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Sara left me today.
I sit in
the dark of the living room, in her favorite chair, fingering her favorite
afghan. Her dog, Lily, looks up at me, her eyes questioning. How do I
explain to this canine child that her momma won’t be back?
Blindly I
stumble to the kitchen. Once there, I look around, forgetting what I came
for. Sara’s coffee cup, the big blue one with the white S, sits in the
washboard, dutifully rinsed, turned upside down to drain.
Upside
down.
Maybe if
I sleep, when I awake this nightmare will be over. The bedroom, usually our
refuge from the world, is full of memories. The bedclothes are still rumpled
from our early morning lovemaking. Sara’s scent permeates the room.
I lean on
the doorjamb. My world is spinning; I’m out of control. I rush for the
bathroom to spill my guts. Kneeling on the cool linoleum, my forehead
against the porcelain, nothing feels real.
The
jangle of my cell phone rouses me from my stupor. I struggle to remove it
from my pants pocket. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s Sara telling me it’s all a
mistake.
“Kris,
let us in. We’re at your front door.”
My
friends, my dear caring friends, are here to try to dull the pain.
“Go
away,” I say.
“No. If
you don’t open the door, we’ll break in.”
I crawl
to the door, all my strength gone with my guts. I can barely reach the
doorknob, but I manage to get it open. Lacie and Sharon pick me up off the
floor, holding me close as they lay me on the sofa. I close my eyes against
the sad, sympathetic look in their eyes.
Someone
washes my face with a damp cloth. I hear kibble as it’s poured into Lily’s
dish. That was why I went to the kitchen; to feed Sara’s dog. But I saw her
cup upside down in the washboard.
Upside
down.
“Oh, my
god!” I cover my face with my hands and finally the tears begin to flow.
I cry for
what seems like hours, first in Lacie’s arms, then in Sharon’s. What good
friends I have but I would trade them both to get my Sara back.
But she’s
upside down. In a ditch. Off the freeway.
Sara left
me today.
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