Scattered Landmines

eleven

Before Poppy and I say our goodbyes, we plan our next run for this Friday morning, followed by coffee and clothes shopping at her boutique. She informs me that she has a few different outfit options in mind that will look fabulous on me for her dinner party on Friday night. Our morning jog and coffee date have set the tone for a cheerfully buoyant day, except for the missed call from fuck-sake Jake.

I had already decided that on the walk back home, I would return his call in hopes of reaching him. Not to my surprise, he doesn't answer. He is most likely asleep, so I will try him again on my way to get Brooks after I am finished with work this afternoon.

Most of our recent post-divorce conversations haven't been exactly harmonizing. I wish there were a way to view Jake as a part of the past and not the present, but I have hope that one day we may come to the point of peace and serenity.

As soon as I found out about the affair, I tried to erase him from my life or on the web, so to speak. I unfriended him on Facebook. I unfollowed him on Twitter and Instagram. I only kept the essential phone number of his in my contacts. I removed his email address from my contact list and never respond to an email from him (unless it related to the children). I also stayed away from places that I knew I might run into him, and I stopped calling his family, extended or otherwise. I don't talk to anyone who can carry tales back to him.

The lonely nights back home by myself in Texas weren't easy ones, and the temptation to reach out to him would overwhelm me at times. I surprised myself by managing to stay steadfast and unyielding in my communication with him, knowing that nothing positive would come from it. I was wrecked, for fuck's sake.

The drive out to the Murphy estate was exquisite. I threw on a driving playlist Cami had put together for me and sang aloud to some of my favorite songs at the moment. As soon as I pull up to the house, I check my makeup in the rearview mirror. Today I put on slightly more than usual just in case I run into Theo. Not that I am expecting to, but it doesn't hurt, right? I also planned on wearing a tank top underneath my sweatshirt instead of an immodest cami since I had removed my shirt yesterday, not anticipating how hot I would become while cleaning. I start where I left off with the bedrooms upstairs, but it doesn't take me too long until I finish, as it's only the floors and the interior windows that need cleaning. By that time, I check the time on my phone, and it's nearly lunchtime, so I retrieve my packed lunch of a turkey wrap and apple from the Bronco and wander into the theatre room to eat my lunch.

As the music plays through my AirPods, and I am devouring my wrap, I notice all the details put into a room that will consistently be dark. Navy wallpaper with a paisley imprint covers every inch of the walls, providing a sufficient amount of darkness to the space. The chairs in the room are meant for only one person but are spacious enough where two would be more than comfortable. They are a gray crushed velvet fabric that reclines to an almost to a flat position. In between each chair is a small white marble table used to set your drinks and snacks on. The screen that sits in front of the large recliners takes up the majority of the wall. I couldn't imagine having a room like this in my house. I am not sure I would ever see my kids again, as I am confident this would be the room they would disappear too the most. In some ways, it would be unnecessary attending an actual movie theatre with this monstrosity in the comfort of your own home. They didn't spare any expenses when designing every aspect of the house, especially this room.

After consuming my lunch and completing the upstairs (celebrating the completion within the confines of my head and adding a private dance party to the mix), I work on cleaning the master bedroom and bathroom downstairs. Just as I thought, there is nothing short of luxury about this suite in particular, including his and her walk-in cedar closets, or the fact that there isn't a spare space of lavish white marble in the bathroom. My dad had given me explicit instructions on what type of product cleaner to use on the gold plated fixtures, and if I veered off using something other than this specific cleaner, they would possibly need a replacement.