“Oh...” Mel's vindictive laugh echoed off the cream walls of my small apartment. “You love her?! You’re so weak.” She spat with a grin.
The last thing I felt was weak. I felt strong, in command of my life and my future. I felt better than ever. “Get out.”
“Always running.” She shook her head. “Do you fuck her here? Does she sneak in your door late at night because you're too ashamed for the entire town to see that your mid-life crisis comes in the form of a silly college girl?” She turned and swiped a stack of books off the kitchen island, then stormed across the room and shoved at my mountain bike without care for broken parts or the three hundred dollar price tag. It clattered with a tinny crash before she kicked at the wheel and spun to land eyes on the bookcase that was freshly stained and waiting for a second coat. Auburn’s bookcase.
“No.” I lunged to stop her. Mel pushed it to the floor and a few pieces splintered.
“Fuck!” I roared and tore my hands through my hair, pulling to feel the pain to distract from the anger.
“Wait a minute.” Mel’s eyes cut to me. “Is that for her? Did you build her a fucking book case?!” I didn’t answer her as I stood the shelf up and examined the few broken pieces of pine.
“Oh my God. You built a fucking bookshelf for her?!” She turned and launched herself at me, palms out, shoving me into the wall. I collided with an oof and with eyes shut I sucked in deep, calming breaths.
“We both need to cool down. You'll be hearing from my lawyer.” I grit as I opened the door for her.
Her breathing shallow and quick, she narrowed her eyes before a slow, manipulative smile lifted her cheeks. “Not if you know what's good for you, I won't. Don't forget who's on the school board.” She breezed past me and was gone, leaving utter destruction in her wake.
nineteen
The weeks following the confrontation that would eventually be the beginning of the end went by slowly. Mel and I didn’t talk. The cold war had officially begun but still the thought of divorce twisted my insides. I had thought I'd found the right person with Mel, but now I knew I'd forced her into that role. Looking back, she'd always been selfish. I couldn’t count the number of times she'd pulled me out of bed sick or weak, to attend a town function or party. Mel had always been all about appearances, it'd just taken me leaving to recognize that.
As time passed things had become more strained between Auburn and I, too. I wanted to talk to her every single day about the fucked up things running through my head, but I didn’t. I was conscious of keeping it as it had been, the last thing I wanted was her caught up in my bullshit anymore than she already was. But still, not being together took it's toll.
We texted and emailed a few times a week. My contract had finally expired with my cell carrier so I took myself off of Mel's account and insisted she put all the bills in her name. It was time. They were little steps, but they were steps all the same. Mel's parents had been feeding her money for years, paying for Christmas getaways in Breckinridge and summers on sandy beaches in Fiji. Mel had lived a blessed life, with parents that caved to her every whim, I should have known I could never maintain the lifestyle she required. I'd just been foolish enough to think love was enough.
Auburn and I stayed up late on the phone one night a few weeks after she'd been gone talking about her classes, what we were reading and writing–she was still zip-lipped about her story–and when we could meet. I was terrified to leave the area. Mel was a live wire, and I knew people were talking around town. I could feel it in my bones, that sideways glance you get when ordering coffee. The way the teachers hush up in the break room when you walk in. I’d taken to spending breaks in my classroom, thinking of Auburn.
Us.
Drive-ins and books and lighthouses and cherry trees. I couldn't keep the memories at bay. When it was just me, I thought of her.
September passed and the warm temperatures dipped, turning emerald leaves shades of rust and crimson. October came with a blast of freezing cold, accelerating the death of the vibrant blooms in our small corner of Michigan. Mel eventually started talking to me again, not just seething or screaming or spitting. We didn’t talk about anything serious, far from it, but when something came up, we were cordial. Emotions were still raw, I recognized that. She hated me. I saw that in her eyes too, but I also saw something else, I began to see acceptance. Maybe this was the moment I'd been waiting for; I needed Mel to get to a place of acceptance, a place where we could be amicable, before I filed for divorce.
The chime on my phone beeped on October nineteenth, a Friday. I didn’t remember ever setting an alarm. Maybe I had an appointment I’d scheduled out? I pulled the new iPhone from my pocket and found an alert I hadn't expected.