I eventually heard form Theo again, after around six months. He came back home to pick up some things he hadn't had a chance to take before.
I never changed the lock, so he had the keys, but he was sensible enough not to come and go as he pleased. He asked me before stopping by.
When he arrived, he picked up the stuff quickly, he said he was fine. And went away. With the same blank, absent expression in his eyes.
I never saw him again.
...
But he was "fine".
He had said that himself, and he appeared to be in good health.... Alive, at least.
His family said he was fine. His colleagues said he was fine.
Fine.
I had to force myself to accept that he was "fine"- and if he wasn't, he clearly did not want my help with it. I couldn't do anything about it.
...
And I had cut my hair short: it was much easier, and I liked it.
Theo would have hated it, but Theo wasn't ever going to see it now... so, it didn't matter.
...
And I had also picked up another old hobby of mine: writing.
I could get up on a Sunday morning, and write all day, until midnight, then look out of the window, and ask myself, how has it gotten dark already?? I've just started.
I didn't realize time had passed.
I think I always had a case of maladaptive daydreaming- or intense daydreaming, anyway.
My imagination is a worrisome thing.
I can close my eyes, and be flying over a green Irish hill. I can be walking through the streets of ancient Rome, smelling sweet wine, and maritime pines around me.
And through writing, I find my way to go on.
...
But even after all those months, I hadn't stopped asking myself, why had it all happened.
Was it my fault?
Had I deserved it?
Could I have prevented it?
Some days, I felt like I did nothing so wrong.
Some other days, guilt was crushing me.
I had started giving Theo for granted; work, and responsibilities, and the routine of everyday life, had gotten the better of me.
And the bills to pe paid, and have you cleaned up your beard from the sink? and we've run out of milk, can you make a quick trip to the supermarket after work, thanks.
I thought, sometimes, that I had become the old, boring, workaholic wife.
And maybe this new woman he was seeing, was, you know. New.
Young, fresh, and exciting.
No strings attached.
No responsibilities.
Maybe after Covid, I thought, he had been finding himself in need of that.
But he had never told me! He kept on the plans for the wedding. He read me the vows. He was talking about our future kids, non-stop.
YOU ARE READING
Let's hope for the best
Non-Fiction... but prepare for the worst. When I was a kid, I thought that life was going to be like a Disney movie. Then, alas, life happened. And I found out, I was not ready for it.
