Me: Babe, I’m getting used to this…
Him: Oh really?
Yeah, I’ve slept alone more in the last couple weeks than I have in the past year or so.
What are you doing down there?
I’m getting my apartment together.
I think you’re playing… down there partying, playing poker with the boys, getting messed up.
He laughs, says I’ll be home in the morning (yeah, right… I’ve heard that before).
Can I stop by and pick up that ten tomorrow?
Babe, I’m coming home, I’ll bring it with me.
Blah blah blah, sweet dreams (oh… goodnight at 7:30?)
Yeah I love you too.
I hang up and dial my kid. Hey, what are you doing bright and early tomorrow morning? I need to go shopping… pick me up at 8:15?
Maybe he will conquer whatever has taken hold. There’s something toxic going on. I might be wrong, but I’ve known enough addicts to recognize the behavior patterns. Something takes all his money and wrings him out. Whatever it is, he tries to hide it from me… doesn’t do it around me. And if I flat-out asked, What’s your poison? What are you doing? Smoking woolies? He wouldn’t tell me anyway.
I feel like a break-up is inevitable… the man avoids confrontation at all costs, so he will just slide out slow, spend more and more time at his place and less at mine… he’ll wander in and out, slowly taking his stuff out, time will pass, two days, then four, work up to a week… and all the while, we will continue to say I love you and pretend all is well as it ever so slowly fades away. In the end, it will be like we just drifted apart, floated off with the fallen leaves. We will break up without actually breaking up. It will just gradually happen… one day it will be like, oh… it’s over, been over for a while.
I can see it play out like that. I can see myself singing this song… I’m just not ready for good.