March 26, 2012
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Aftermath…
At the last minute I go wash my face and change clothes to go out. I still feel like shit but I can just as easily feel like shit with friends. J arrives at the restaurant the same time that I do. He confesses that C also knows about D and I. I throw up my hands, exasperated, “Is there anyone D didn’t fucking tell?”
C arrives about an hour later. We drink and laugh. I tease them when they check out our young and pretty waitress. We take silly photos. We text the others, but only one more will join us (and only after she finishes her shift at another restaurant). Mostly, we’re boisterous and obnoxious. We eat and crack jokes. I giggle at the guys checking out the women. I even join in, gasping wide-eyed at some hideous creature to make them turn and stare.
J checks his phone often and relays the texts. He snatches up his phone and looks at the screen with a critical gaze, eyes narrowing. C and I grow silent. J looks at me momentarily, “His dinner out was cancelled.”
I shrug. C shakes his head. He reiterates a lot of what J told me. He adds to it, “He said he didn’t like dating a woman with kids. He said you were looking for a daddy,” he looks at me, “I told him that wasn’t the impression I was getting from you.”
Lies. But the guys know me well enough to know when someone is feeding them a line of shit. Still I’m distressed and they know it. C puts an arm around me and gives me a squeeze, “It’s not you. We know that.”
J told me that C wasn’t at all happy that D showed up last night. He didn’t like the way he acted in Leesburg. My heart sinks. J waves it away, “C said that D drank a lot of hard liquor and didn’t want to hang out. He only wanted to go on specific rides. He told J that he suspected D was seeing me then because he acted very peculiar”. One of the guys mentioned that he would be glad when my divorce was final because he was going to ask me out. D reacted quite openly to that. C watched his reaction carefully. D was obvious. I’m sure C wasn’t the only one who knew.
I would calmly tell my side. Exposing all of D’s lies, without effort, but it was heartbreaking. When J told me what he’d told D in the bar, “You need to make up your mind about how you feel about her. Then you need to tell her,” tears threatened. C shook his head, “He said he was an asshole. He is. But the things he said about you were untrue.” I looked at him sadly.
I couldn’t find words. The lies rolled in like a tide. D claimed I was looking for a daddy for my kids. He claimed that I sought to live with someone (especially puzzling since everyone knows I own a house). He scoffed that I was wanting more of a relationship than was necessary. He joked that he should call me, but J told him to leave me alone because it was cruel to continue the cat and mouse game.
Eventually I couldn’t respond. I realized that it was beyond salvage. He didn’t want me. He never would. He even admitted that he would tell me that he loved me to get more sex. I know I must have looked completely sad, because J stopped telling me things.
I didn’t cry, but the emptiness was painful. I realized that it would be there for the long run. It won’t go away.
I really can’t trust anyone now. I realize that now.
So now it’s just me and my kids. I won’t venture into the world and give my heart again. My heart is gone.
The text arrives when I’m pulling into my driveway. D texts that he nearly went to the sports bar when his dinner was cancelled. I send a scathing sarcastic text back, “Too bad you didn’t. I picked up the tab. Had a great time!” I stop short of suggesting that his friend may give him a raincheck. I probably should have, so the sarcasm wasn’t lost on him.
Part of me is happy that he didn’t get to go out. That was a dig to begin with. J saw that when D sent him a text saying his dinner was cancelled. He was looking for an invite. J wasn’t biting. He didn’t answer. Then D texted me and I didn’t respond.
I dropped his birthday card in the mail today after work. Simple card, signed “Best Wishes” with a broken heart.
Closure.
Now off to bed. I have to work 12 hours. We’re waiting on a dozen transfers from another trauma center. It will be ugly.
