Serial no. 17 The Text

I stare at the send button; I know my thoughts are unfounded. There’s been no proof. I had a bad dream, and now that I’m awake, I still feel the pain. The tears.

It would sound ridiculous said aloud, but the images linger with me. I’ve been married to my husband now for fifteen years. My nightmare started off as all dreams do, slow and foggy. Happenings that you can still feel somewhat but would never be able to say what it was. Its the subconscious brain dump. Removing the trash for the day.

Impossible to dredge up in the daylight hours, but it creeps in your sleep. The unsaid thoughts. And as it fades on my wakening, I could still describe the middle and the end.

My long-time husband came home and told me he’s done. Has been cheating for four years (again- unfounded and only in this nightmare), but he’s leaving me.

Then, of course, that’s the middle, and the end was me crying. Big surprise? I think I had also been fired from my job.

Awake now after a jolt like a fire bursting in your face. Sadly, the tears followed me from the dreamworld. While things have gone from bad to worse with our relationship, I delete the good morning text.

I rewrite my text and say what I actually think that one time.

I hit send and close my eyes, still lying in bed. Snoozing comfy in bed, the phone sleeping in my palm. I wait for his reply.

How long has it been? Five minutes? The text tells me it was fifteen minutes ago I had hit send. I reread my message,

WHY DON’T YOU EVER TEXT ME FIRST?

Blinking, I realize I totally just started a fight. At seven in the morning? What the fuck was I thinking? I chuckle to myself and mutter that I’m such an emotional woman.  

My bedroom is quiet save the fan spinning majestically above my head. Giving enough breeze to keep me cool under my weighted blankets. The phone vibrates silently but my eyes spring open as if the ringtone was on loud. I search for the text,

LOL GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL but the words are misspelled. It looks wrong, I’m reading it wrong. The phone vibrates again, the next message makes no sense at all. I furrow my brows and try to focus my eyes. The sick vomit feeling in my stomach is rising as the tone of the response from my husband becomes apparent.

I TEXT YOU EVERY MORNING

I DO EVERYTHING YOU WANT, AND YOU STILL QUESTION ME ALL THE TIME

IM SO DONE

I WANT A DIVORCE AND YOUR CRAZY ASS CAN HARASS SOMEONE ELSE AT 7AM

My brain wanted to believe he was joking but the stress I had put him under and the escalation of our fights recently, I knew he wasn’t.

The texting from my husband stopped but a notification from Facebook- relationship status changed to divorced-

I put my phone down, “Fuck.”

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