I spent many nights comparing myself to Robert’s past lovers. All of them, appearing before me in perfect formation. Slender elves, with long hair that partially concealed pale breasts. Round dolls, with too much stuffing, ready to offer their sex.
I spent many more nights placing unanswered phone calls, desperately hanging on to the receiver as a pre-recorded message played, unprepared to speak words that would never truly reach him. Never mind food. Never mind sleep.
I know all the lies he ever said about us, about me. I heard every compliment he paid me to gain an advantage, to weaken a position of power he imagined I held.
I was taken from, and left empty. I do not care to write today, but to lie on soft earth, and have her soak up my confusion.
How this leads to the realization that should have been obvious long ago, I do not know. I lack something basic and necessary. A family. What I have is a lie. Not a mother, not a father, or a sister, or a brother. A lie.
Without reason, or a plan, or a hint of malice, I pulled in what I had eliminated with effort. I contacted Robby to tell him I would marry soon. Perhaps, I wanted him to feel the enormity of what it would mean to lose me forever, in a way neither one of us had felt before. I wanted to be in the arms of the person who had done me great harm, but had still been the kindest love I have known. And if it isn’t truly love, it is still a substance that keeps us bound to one another, loyal to one another.
As expected, he immediately responded, and we speak as if we never stopped.