And for once, I didn’t
feel the need to rush.
I was learning that my life didn’t have to revolve around a relationship.
I could simply enjoy being myself.
Then, one evening, Gary called again.
“Debbie, I heard you’re seeing someone.”
I sighed.
“Who told you?”
“Emily.”
“Richard and I have had coffee a few times.”
Gary sounded irritated.
“Already?”
I laughed.
“Gary, we’ve been divorced for months.”
“I thought you needed time.”
“I did need time. I took it.”
He went quiet.
Then he said, “I suppose you never really loved me.”
That old
accusation.
The one he had used whenever I disagreed with him.
I felt no anger.
Only clarity.
“I loved you for twenty-two years, Gary. But I don’t owe you the rest of my life.”
He whispered, “I miss you.”
I closed my eyes.
“I miss the man I thought you were.”
