Teri
"Hey, I want you to try this problem, first." I said to my son Griffin, as we were both seated at our home's kitchen table. He asked for help with homework, and I couldn't have been more happy to help guide him through it.
It had been about two and a half weeks since I last saw and spoke to Sherri. Ever since the day I walked away from her, communication between us had been nonexistent. I came home that night and probably cried the hardest I had ever cried. I could've drowned in the all that hurt, but I pulled myself together. I had to.
I had been through many situations that brought along great pain, but this particular situation gave pain like I had never experienced. Truthfully, I never imagined things between Sherri and I going as far as they did. I thought I'd take all those feelings straight to the grave with me.
"Griffin honey," I pointed to his homework, growing concerned about a particular problem. "I don't think you followed the order of operations here."
"Mom, my teacher says--" The ringing of the doorbell precluded his response.
I looked in the direction of the front door. My heart dropped below my chest. Something told me it was Sherri, and if it was, I definitely wasn't ready to see her just yet.
My eyes shifted back on Griffin, and I could seen the curiosity tugging at his pupils. "Hey, I'm gonna be right back, okay?"
He shook his head up and down.
I marched to the door, breathing exceptionally deep breaths. What if it was Sher and she wanted to discuss what happened a few weeks ago? Should I agree to speak with her?
The door flung open and a soul swimming in waves of hurt stood at the entrance. A lengthy, navy blue dress covered her body. Her curls played at the top of her head, as her eyes blinked rapidly. I'd seen trouble surfacing each pupil, and pain screaming behind each hair resting through her brown skin. This was hurting her too, and it showed.
"Hey." The broken soul greeted me, speaking softly.
My eyes left her body, then stumbled upon the ground. I wasn't ready to speak, yet make eye contact. "Uh--hey, Sherri."
"Can we uh--can we talk?"
I pointed to the gray painted chairs stationed on my porch, indicating a spot for us to discuss things, then closed the door behind me.
The both of us took a seat, speaking absolutely no sound. Silence--an awkward silence, happened to be near and dear.
I felt Sherri's eyes on me, but I didn't place mine on hers. I had never taken place in such a meaningless time with her. Before all of this, we cherished every moment spent together. Now, I hadn't known if I should've praised this occurring silence or suppressed it.
"Y'know, not speaking with you on a daily isn't the easiest." Sherri broke the quietness.
I sighed, taking in those words she slipped through my ears. "If this is your way of saying you miss me, then I miss you, too." I meant what I'd said. Sherri made me feel awful, but I missed her like crazy.
She barely smiled. "I'm uh--I'm sorry for hurting you...and I'm sorry for saying or doing anything that might've hurt you, as well."
"Thank you for that—apologizing—I mean. I'm sorry, too."
"Why are you--" I watched as a puzzling expression ate at her face. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"No, no. I think I uh--I was hoping or wishing...you'd love your husband a little less, and maybe love me just a tad bit more, I guess." My shoulders went up and down. "I should've accepted what I couldn't change. I could never change the way you feel about your husband. That's--that's impossible."
