She ran her shaking hand over her hair and smoothed away any strays that had come loose when she dressed. Her clothing was reserved-a knee length black tank dress with a baby pink cardigan, and sensible heals-even though nothing about this day was sensible.
D-day. The day her marriage would be officially over on paper. The day she got her name back, her hand back, and her key back.
But what she really wanted to know was when would she get her heart back.
Who would schedule that appointment, what paperwork did she have to file and how long would it take to process. There was no paperwork for the re-acquiring of your heart, she knew, and so she continued somberly preparing for what would always remain as the most awkward and surreal day of her life.
Nothing was ever ‘normal’ with them. There were strange meetings with people on vacations, outlandish signs, pigeons named Susie and theatrical productions by homeless people, of which they always had front row seats.
So it did not surprise her when the courthouse was evacuated due to a bomb threat.
Had this been any other man, she would have looked at this as a sign. She would have used this time to point out that God was trying to stop them from making a mistake and plead with him to reconsider.
But the damage was done, and she saw him for who he really was all of this time when she was blinded by her love for him. And to the sirens she smirked and to her husband, she smiled, knowing this was driving him mad.
She stood in the corner of the town green, watching people mill around anxiously, listening to conversations from deadbeat Dads to uninterested lawyers, and to ex-wives screaming at their ex-husbands. And she stood in the corner of the town green, watching her husband in that sea of strangers until he became one of them.
A while later, the stranger approached, stiff and confused, over dressed in his crisp blue button down and spotted blue tie. He was too skinny, and his eyes were sunken in, he seemed to be losing his hair by the minute.
He was familiar to her, she knew his eyes well, but before they were sunken and when his face was fuller and more alive.
“Hey” said the stranger. “Funny, huh?”
“I guess.”
“My lawyer just told me that we have about 2 hours before the building is cleared and the judge is calling everyone back into court at 2:30.”
“Great. That’s fantastic. What the hell are we supposed to do until then?” She let a little of the stress of the day seep out slowly, as though it found the tiniest crack in her foundation and needed to escape. She could almost hear it hissing.
“Well…are you hungry? We can go to lunch. I’m sure there are places to eat on Main Street. Are you up to it?” He was looking over her shoulder when he asked, as if to say, “I don’t really care if you say no.”
She sighed. What’s the point, she thought? Why bother? She knew he never kept his word, and she knew that unless she initiated it, they would never again be friends.
“Sure. But you are paying.” She conceded, as she walked passed him quickly, so his legs, which were shorter, could barely keep up. She waited just around the corner in front of the restaurant she chose. When he arrived, he looked up as she pointed and chuckled.
“Nice.” Was his only response to the sign that rested high above them.
It’s name: “First and Last Café”
