Welcome back
 
As I walk up to the front of the building, I see him waiting in the grass under a tree.  He smiles and I look down.  I’m glad I have my sunglasses on, and hope he can’t see my expression.  We talk about nothing on the way up the stairs.  We flip the light switch and wait our turn on the smallest couch I’ve ever seen.  He seems like a stranger. He feels like someone from my past who I can barely recall playing with as a child.
 
Miss Suzanna greets us and shows us to her office.  We play with her standard poodle as she gets situated.  It’s all business talking about the divorce.  I have nothing to say and just cry, waiting for our 50- minute session to end.  We always do well with the business aspect of our life together, and it’s not hard talking about numbers.  We both deal with numbers everyday.  There’s nothing to cry about over a 5 or 10, unless you just lost a bet.
 
He asks if I am going to keep his name and my ring.  I want both, but I can’t get the words to come out of my mouth.  I look down and wipe up my tears, the Kleenex shredding into little balls on my face.  You get a mediator, you get a realtor, and you outsource your love life so someone will kill it off for you.
 
I get in the car and stare out the window. I should turn the car on. I end up at the convenience store in a daze buying Tecate and limes.  I need a pack of smokes and damn I’m hungry.  I end up at Miss K’s; my safe haven when thing are out of control.  Get high.  Take a drink.  Have a cigarette.  Laugh.  I look at her as she cleans her apartment, and realize how much time has passed since we lived in San Marcos.  I laugh because we’re exactly the same.  Ten years later and we’re mending broken hearts, cussing men, and trying to get our shit together.
 
On the way home I put the top down on the car.  I think how fortunate I am to have the wind blow the tears off of my face.  How fortunate I am that I married a good guy.  How fortunate I am to have these friends.  At one point in the night Miss K stops cleaning, looks over at me while I cry and says, “You’re life is like a movie!  Anything is possible for you now.  I can’t wait to see what happens in your life over the next 2 years!”
 
Me too, Miss K.  Me too. I just gotta make it through today.