We sat in the sunroom for a while, you and I, and you spoke of your travels. You worked long days remodeling houses but the job was satisfying. When you asked about my divorce, I didn’t mention the cheating scandal, instead, I said, “My Ex is in rehab. Everything fell apart so he’s trying to pick up the pieces.” Your sharp eyes seemed to run all over me then and I found myself looking away to the birdbath focusing on the red cardinal lingering there.
A sense of regret soon followed. I wanted to tell you that I was wrong, the path I chose was rocky. I wanted to tell you that I shouldn’t have let you slip away but a lump formed in my throat, and my eyes became misty so I floated into the kitchen for a fat glass of tea as I fumbled for the vodka.
We drank for a while in the cozy nook until the room seemed too warm, tight. I needed some space. I needed air.
So we walked. We walked on, down by the magnificent waterfall. A group of crows cried out, as flashes of lightning burst between the clouds above us. When the air shifted and the rain fell down-down, like teardrops. It washed all over me.