Perfect Last Date

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It's my day off, it's raining buckets, and I've got a date with my soon-to-be ex-husband

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It's my day off, it's raining buckets, and I've got a date with my soon-to-be ex-husband.

To sign the official end of our divorce.

So that he can marry someone else.


The wedding is scheduled for 4pm this afternoon. I have to meet Simon at a café in town at 1 o'clock. I glance at my wrist watch. It's 12:36 right now, and my plane has just landed.

I hurry through the airport terminal. My carry-on bag is swinging beside me and hitting me in the legs. I nearly stumble more than once, and seriously consider just chucking it. There's hardly anything in there, the bag only holds a few bare necessities, but it also has the outfit I had planned on wearing today. I was really hoping to look decent for my final tete-a-tete with the man I was married to for 6 years. Maybe I can change in the cab.

I glance at my wrist watch again. It takes nearly an hour to get to where I'm supposed to meet Simon, if the traffic isn't too bad, and I've got... 21 minutes left. Guess I'm going to be late.

I grind my teeth together. Simon and his fiancé will have another laugh at my expense. Once or twice, I've overheard her comment on how unorganized and uncoordinated I am. How he came to love a woman like her, I'll never know. But then again my opinion is probably biased.

Me? Uncoordinated? Please.

I stomp my way through the crowd in my heels, head held high. I can spot the cabs lined up outside as I near the doors. I burst through and throw myself towards the nearest one, but not before my legs slam right into my bag and I land face first onto the sidewalk.

My elbows catch most of my fall, wet dirt and pain, but I don't stop. I scramble back onto my feet and into the cab. I yell at the driver and slouch backwards into the seats as he takes off. I'm soaked, my flight attendant's uniform is ruined, and my elbows are bloody. Even more perfect.

It's 15 minutes later before I realize I've left my bag behind. Thankfully I have one of those cell phone cases that doubles as a wallet, so I've got the important stuff with me. I try not to feel too badly about the fact that I'm going to look like a wreck.

The fact that we're meeting at the same café where we had our first date is just the cherry on top. Have you ever had a perfect date? Well, my first date with Simon was better than that. It was a blind date that made me believe in love at first sight. That was the story we told everyone."It all started with a perfect date."

And now I'm driving full speed towards the end of our marriage. A small part of me is fantasizing about ruining their wedding, but I'm not going to. Why? Because I love Simon and I want him to be happy. Even if it's not with me.

Also I'm a masochistic idiot.

I sigh, just as my phone pings with a text.

"Where r u?!" It's from Simon.

"On my way." I text back. I bite my lip, knowing he's probably pissed. I am beyond late right now, like usual. "Flight got delayed."

I press send on my perfectly valid excuse, regardless of how sick I know he is of my excuses. These divorce papers were supposed to be signed a long time ago, after all. But one thing happened after another and now we're down to the wire. His fiancé probably firmly believes I am trying to sabotage them, and I honestly can't blame her.

"I have to go." Comes the reply. "Can you meet me at the house instead?"

I know which house he means. It's the one near the church where they are getting married. He's going there to get ready.

I can't see him in the tux he's going to wear to marry someone else. I just can't.

"Damn it!" I shout at my phone as I type yes, then give the cabbie the new address. This cab is going to cost me a small fortune.

It feels like an eternity later when we're nearly there and suddenly the cabbie stops and declares he can't go any further. He points at the pothole-riddled driveway before us.

"You can walk the rest, no?" he says.

It's not exactly a short driveway. We can't even see the house yet.

I groan and pay the fare, then begin the march up to the house.

I look like I just crawled out of a swamp when I stomp in and follow the sound of voices into the foyer. Simon is swearing and shouting, "Where is she?"

I want to laugh and cry all at once. Gosh, I love that man.

As soon as I barge through the doors everyone shuts up. I'm standing there, panting and dripping onto the hardwood floors, while Simon looks like a greek god in his tux.

The divorce papers are already laid out on the table, ready for me to sign.

"Give me a pen!" I croak out, and one is thrust into my hands.

I don't think. I just lean down and scribble my signature onto the line, then I pass the pen to Simon. My hands are shaking, my whole body is shaking, and there are tears on my face. Simon leans down, pen in hand.

Then our eyes lock and we freeze. The clock ticks.

He's not signing. Why isn't he signing?

"I can't do it." He whispers.


"What?" Someone else says, reading my mind.

"This is stupid." Simon shakes his head, dropping the pen. He looks at me and says the most perfect words ever. "I still love you."

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