"Ditmas"

Woman is working at her desk/workspace on a painting. she faces a window and continually looks outside as she paints.

Woman: The last words I said to him were, “‘this is all I ever was.’” I’ve never tried to trick anyone I’ve dated. Especially not him. It’s been a year now. He and I met almost 10 years ago to the day. We started dating four years into that. Nothing out of the ordinary, two people who knew they wanted to give it a shot finally. Not a fairy tale by any means, but it was kind of perfect in itself.

My friends didn’t think it would last. They gave me 9 months, and he and I lasted 5 years. It’s almost incredible. I keep finding photos, pdf'd tickets, and grocery lists with their menus. Trinkets that allow me to reminisce. I’m finding them now, again, like I “came across those years ago.” Maybe because I can’t help it or maybe because I’m trying not the think about it. Like that phenomenon, you know, where you learn a new word and all of the sudden you’re hearing it and seeing it everywhere, even though it’s been there all along.

We fought hard that last night. I don’t know what it was about. He wanted something and I never listened before I fought back. A vase shattered. It was too close to the edge and I hit the table with my fist. It was like slow motion after that. We silently let it wobble and then crash to the floor in what must have been 500 pieces. He looked at me, back at the ground, and without looking up he whispered, “‘you go too far.’” He packed one bag right then and must've slept at his friend’s place or the gym. For the next two days he kept coming back for more of his stuff until he was done.

No chatting or texting. It was over. I deleted his number, knowing if I needed it in an emergency my best friend had it saved as a last resort. All social media was stripped and people unfriended to get rid of any reminders.

Three weeks ago we ran into each other at a grocery store no-less. He told me I looked good. I returned some compliment, half-heartedly and put on my best fake smile. He knew I felt weird about this encounter and the rules of running into each other. As always, he was sad that I changed throughout our relationship and wished we could go back to the beginning. I had to tell him it was good seeing him and that it was time for me to checkout. Stumbling through the words for the fifty-bajillionth time, “don’t tell me that I’ve changed because that’s not the truth.” Fifty was fifty too many times to use that line. I accept that “now I’m losing [him]” well really that I’ve lost him. He never left me any room to let him back in.

The piece I’m working on is called, “Fragile sound.” It seemed to be the only thing that makes sense as I try to mend my heart. Painting has that effect for me and this window is my favorite place to do it. Right here I get to watch everyone on the outside. See the sun and smiling children. Let the heat seep in. On the other hand, “the world outside just watches as [I] crawl.” Slowly getting up each day and reminding myself that I’m crawling “towards a life of fragile lines.” It all hurts even post 1 year. Reminding myself that everyday it gets just a minuscule amount better. I can do this, I can work through this and I’ll be okay.

So I work on my art. Painting this anger and sadness and our old love so that I can move on. Our love was wonderful, but it was out of place “and wasted time” too.

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