As It unfolded

For years, she had desperately strived to regain the manifestation skills she had done so well with as a child. She cleared her mind, she focused, she directed positive vibrations; her subconscious celebrated her victory.

She had believed in him. Her soul told her, this was the one she was meant to be with. Her mind tried to tell her it was all a sham. She watched the lies roll off his tongue to others. That was the others, not her. He was a loving, kind, good person who had shown her happiness. The others were insignificant; they deserved his deception.

So when he asked that she marry him; she delighted in accepting. Thrilled that he now would know real love; his mistrust obliterated by her unconditional acceptance.

Then their third anniversary came. He left at 6 and all day failed to take her calls or respond to her texts. She spent the day confused. Trying to fathom a reason for this odd, cruel behavior. When he rolled through the door at 8 that night, no explanation, and a grinning mouth uttering the words “was it our anniversary or something today?”; she had to face the truth. He no longer even pretended. He was done. He had a new woman in his life. She said goodnight softly and took her pillow and blanket to the couch.

The next morning, contrite and sheepish, he said he wanted to take her shopping and for lunch. She acquiesced, but knew it was just a practiced gesture on his part. He wanted to keep her emotions on the rollercoaster she had dealt with for years now.

So they had lunch. She allowed him to buy her a single gift. A set of pearls she had always wanted. She thanked him profusely, and as they made love that night, she wore only the pearls.

He left for work the next day, before dawn, as usual. She began making the bed and tidying up, thinking about his dinner that night. As she reached to tuck the top covers, she spied something hidden under the mattress.

The little black book. The one he said he had destroyed when they wed. The one he said he would never need again because their love would last forever.

Tears rolled down her face as she read the notations. It wasn’t just one woman he shared himself with; three bedsides her self. Her dogs tried to cheer her but she knew she was done.

Quietly, she packed her things and carried them out to her car. She had no where to go; no one to turn to. She knew she could not stay and she knew not where she would go. Still, her pride told her, of everything, this was the final straw.

She sat in her car a few minutes. She pictured him arriving and seeing her car gone. He would greet the dogs and then work his way back to the bed they had shared the night before. There he would find his precious book, laid on his pillow, a note beneath it from her, telling her they were done.

He tried calling, sending frantic texts; she did not respond. She had found a safe place to park for the night. She knew she would get little sleep. She knew she had no plan. She hated leaving her girls, but without shelter, she could not provide.

Yeats later, after she had raged and come to terms with it all; she moved on and began creating her new life. He emailed her he had been betrayed by his side chicks and she should come back, they could start again. She replied with a picture of the little black book and another of her tear streaked face. Then she deleted the email, closed the account and went on her new journey to find the peace she sought.