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“I’m still married.”
“Sign the papers.” Keegan’s voice drastically turned somber, her eyes visibly hurting. It wasn’t a joke anymore. She was serious. “It’s been long enough. She isn’t coming back.”
“I know,” Julia whispered as her eyes fell to the planner below her. “I know.”
***
When Julia arrived home later that day, she dropped her belongings at the door and made her way straight to the bedroom. Her heels were still on, wet and muddy from the afternoon rainstorm. She picked up the crisp envelope that was sitting on the bedside table and slumped on the edge of her bed.
The adhesive seal wasn’t even broken. It’d been six months, and she hadn’t even had the nerve to open the envelope, regardless of how many times she studied the package. She tore it open now, ripping a jagged line through the return address. She pulled out the pages from their sleeve and carelessly tossed the envelope to the side. It fluttered to the floor as if caressed by stagnant air.
Marin’s name stared back at her from the plaintiff line. Julia didn’t bother reading the rest; her reasons didn’t matter anymore. What Marin wanted from the divorce didn’t matter. She could have it all for all she cared. When she left, it wasn’t just a walk out of their marriage; it was a piece of Julia that left her being entirely. Materialistic items no longer had meaning. They wouldn’t fill the hole inside her.
She flipped right to the last page with Marin’s signature scrolled across the bottom. Julia rubbed her finger over the letter M, picturing how Marin’s hand used to move when she would flourish that letter–her red hair tucked behind her ear as she leaned over to sign, the wrinkle she got on her forehead when she wrote anything by hand.
I’m not ready.
But did that matter? The choice was made for her, and it wasn’t until that very moment that she truly realized there wasn’t anything she could’ve done to change the circumstance. She felt stupid for sitting in that empty house thinking that a single envelope would bring her back.
Some say it’s better to love and lose that love than it is to never love at all. That’s horseshit. You don’t sit in the happy memories, thankful for the lessons that the bad taught you. You don’t just lose joint friends, family, or a house. You don’t just lose a couple of shared pieces of furniture. You don’t just throw away the ring on your left hand.
What they don’t tell you is that the life you currently live will be gone forever. That you become the sum of every high and low that you had together, and when the one leaves, you have nothing left to fill the space. That person doesn’t just live in the space next to you on the couch or your bed; they live within you. You lose seconds, minutes, days, years of moments that should be cherished in a locked vault in the precious bank of your mind but are now, instead, shadows lurking in the deep.
Watching someone you so desperately love fall out of love with you is worse than never loving at all. Knowing that even after a decade and a half of marriage, two decades of a shared life, there was something about you that was no longer enough–watching each day pass and a distance grow between the both of you–like she’s on a boat in the middle of the ocean floating away and you’re handcuffed to a dock on shore without the keys. Hopeless.
Marin didn’t want to be with her. No, better yet, Marin didn’t want her. At some point Julia would have to stop holding back because that knowledge sits on her forehead–a badge of dishonor. At some point she’ll be able to sleep without a pill lulling her to sleep. At some point she’ll come home and not think of how Marin used to kiss her in the kitchen, dance with her in the living room on rainy afternoons, or lay naked on the fluffy carpet after getting lost in each other’s embrace on a Sunday morning.
At some point everything would be okay again. It would never be the same–the pieces will never fit back together the same way–but it won’t be like it is now. What Julia could do was sign the papers, mail them to the stupid address in the corner, and take the first step. And that’s what she did.
Without giving it another thought, she scribbled her signature on the line and stuffed the papers back in the envelope. She didn’t even care if it looked like her own handwriting, didn’t care if her frustration seeped through every letter’s curve. She ran to the office desk off the entryway, not even stopping her momentum as she grabbed a stamp from the metal organizer. Papers fluttered to the floor–swept up in the whirlwind of her emotions–and scattered like carpet beneath her shaking legs.
With the stamp firmly pressed on the corner of the envelope, Julia dashed out of the front door, sprinting up the driveway and crossing the road in a blur. As small raindrops continued to plop on the ground beneath her, she tossed the package into the black mailbox. Without wasting a second, she forcefully lifted the red flag, directing it upward towards the cloudy sky. She stood there, catching her breath.
It’d taken her months to work up the courage to perform such a simple act–a task that consumed no more than a minute, yet felt like an eternity while holding her breath–but it was done now. The mailman would take the envelope in the morning, and everything would be fine.
She refused to allow herself the time to think, to allow the repercussions of what she just did to sink to the bottom of her shaking toes, and so she pulled out her phone as she braved the wind across the driveway. She walked back to the bedroom and scrolled down in her contacts to Erin, which she added before leaving work.
Julia - 5:28 p.m.
Hey, it’s Julia.
She didn’t expect a quick response, so she went to her closet to scope out her options. The idea of wearing her crumpled blue pantsuit was out of the question, especially since she’d stress-sweat in it most of the day.
This is such a bad idea.
As she swung open the closet door, she pushed down the excitement of having the chance to dress for someone else again. When was the last time she went out with someone other than Keegan? What was appropriate to wear to a no-date dinner with a woman she needed to keep things professional with? What outfit said she didn’t have a stick up her ass, but drew a line at the same time? What could possibly say hey, I find you absurdly funny and attractive, and I wish I actually took you home last night, but can we be civil colleagues? Sexy librarian? Fuck!
Erin - 5:29 p.m.
Hey, there! It was getting late. I thought you were standing me up.
Julia- 5:29 p.m.
I wouldn’t dream of it.
Well, the thought did cross Julia’s mind. She considered faking a stomach bug or headache. That usually worked for people, right? But then there was the fact that she’d see her on Monday, one way or another. Her anxiety-ridden ass had no choice other than to follow through with the plans already made.
Erin - 5:31 p.m.
