Take Your Cat and Leave My Sweater

By the next morning, I've angsted off the entire birth weight of my first born child. Leave it to me to shed every last excess fat cell at the first sign of trouble.

I tighten the belt a notch and head to work. Reality is sinking in, but I am still finding it hard to believe that Scott would just exit my life without a trace after two years in a committed relationship.  We are each other's best friends.  He doesn't think a conversation is warranted?  At a minimum?  What is he afraid of?  That I'd cry?  Of course I would. I think a few tears can be expected. Man up and face them. It won't last forever.

I need confirmation. I have a plan.

I am going to call when I get home. When he ignores the call and it goes directly and rudely to voicemail AGAIN, I will push the send button on the following text message and draft e-mail at the same time.

"Scott, please be reasonable. I am not interested in drama. I simply need to make arrangements to get my things from your house. Saturday or Sunday morning. You  don't need to be there. Leave my key on the dresser. 10 minutes and I'm gone."

Having a plan, however doomed, gives me a dim sense of peace.

I drive home, barely breathing. It's been days since I've taken more than a shallow breath.

I greet the kids. I start dinner. I dial Scott.

One ringy-dingy. Two ringy-dingy. Voicemail.

Oh. My. God.

Send. Send.

He text back almost right away.

Please please please let this be a text telling me that I am overreacting. That I have it all wrong.

"Seems silly for you to drive all the way down here because of me. I will get your things to you."

There it is. Confirmation. I am single. Dumped. In the worst way possible.

I keep my composure.

"I have things of yours to return also. And I have no idea what you may have in my garage. I also need to get some of the art I've had hanging in your house. They are things that were from my Dad's house and I am not ready to part with them yet."

I sit and patiently wait for his game plan.  But nothing comes.

A few hours later I decide to play tough.

"My sister has offered to drive with me to your house just to get this over with."

That gets his attention. I am sure he knows Charlotte would disembowel him on sight.

"No. Please stop," he writes.

"Well I'm not hearing any other alternative plans."

He writes that he'll mail my things on Saturday.  And asks if that is soon enough.

I reply that yes, it is soon enough and I will do the same with his things.

And then, considering that is apparently the last order of business, I simply write, "Goodbye."

And as though he's insulted, he writes, "Nice."

And I am wild.

"I don't think you are in a position to judge my ability to communicate!"

"You vanish. You don't call. You don't answer. You don't text. You don't reply to texts. You just walk out. At least I had the courtesy to say goodbye.  NICE!"

And then nothing.