Driven to Distraction

I spend the day waffling back and forth from believing that Scott is dumping me to rationalizing that after two years he'd never do anything like this. And then there is the third thought. Maybe he'll not dump me like this but it really does look like I'm getting dumped, not matter how he eventually does the deed.

Hil is all over my sense of angst. I tell her that I think Scott and I are having some trouble and maybe we are not going to make it after all.

Her little girl heart can't really imagine how people who are talking about getting married suddenly don't work out. Frankly, I am with her. It is baffling under the best of circumstances.

I am thankful that Scott lives 90 miles away and that I have my kids with me. It prevents me from getting in my car and driving to his house to force a conversation.

Hil decides the thing to do is to pamper me. She will come to my hair appointment with me and we'll go buy some pretty things for ourselves...makeup and new clothes and dangly earrings. I am sure there is just as much in it for her as there is for me, but who cares?  We get to spend some girly time together. It will distract me and give me quality time with my budding teenage daughter.

I attempt to rally and quell my stomach pangs. I have to put on a brave face. And maybe a little lipstick. I have to go out in public so I should try to uncurl from the fetal position sometime soon, too.

I sit in the waiting area of the spa waiting for Liz and wishing they'd offer me a glass of wine like they do when I go at night. Mama's nerves are shot. I look through a fashion mag and try to ignore the surfing ones Scott used to read when he accompanied me there. The first time I left him alone in the waiting area he ordered a $500 Merino wool-lined wet suit on his phone. The story seems distant now. Like one I'd tell about a stranger. Someone I used to know.

Eventually I sit in Liz's chair. We make small talk while she shampoos and conditions and when I am in front of the mirror at last, she asks, "So what are we doing today?"

I look up at her reflection and say, "To be honest, Liz, I think I am about to be single again.  So I think I need to think about something different. I don't want short hair, but let's give me a new look. I might just need it."

She nearly plotzes. We decide what to do with my hair and then she wants to know the whole story.

It is nice to confide in your hair dresser. At this point, she is the only adult I can share any of this with. I certainly can't burden my kids with all the details, and I can't start boo hooing to Charlotte and Joy and Kate without knowing something for certain.

And I realize that that is exactly what is so unsettling. I don't know anything for certain.