September

Shrugging as she sat down my sister's eyes begged for forgiveness. I picked up my coffee, suddenly wishing it had a large dose of whiskey in it. My head turned slowly to face the pitying eyes of my mother. “Hello, Mom, how nice of you to,” turning to look at my sister, “join us.”

“Taking off work just to haul your sister down your alcohol soaked Yellow Bricked Road?” Now I've never been a religious person, but the praying begins. I'm not sure my boss would be so forgiving about my going to jail. Breathing deeply, trying to sit up straight I smile and set down my coffee cup.

“I hate it when you reference movies, Mother. It never makes sense. But, yes, I'm taking off work today. Yes, I'm hungover like a wino and yes, I was going to get drunk with my sister, as by the end of the week, I will be yet another failure statistic. I have been asked for a divorce.”

“Well, why didn't you say so? I'll buy the first round. When it arrives, I shall toast to your good fortune.” Groaning, I hide my head in my hands and order another coffee, bringing all eyes to me in surprise. “Until today you've drank like you were growing new livers in a lab at home. Today, when you have reason, you stick with coffee?” Smiling sardonically, I shovel eggs in my mouth.

Alternating between quiet tears and slumping in defeat I tell my Mother what happened and how even my evil boss had more sympathy than she did. Unmoved she said that retail therapy was in order. I knew from experience this was an argument I would lose, I sighed my catchphrase and allowed her to buy new things for me that were not needed or welcome. I kind of figured I would return them later for the refunds.

Complaining of a headache, I excused myself. I did have a headache, but I mostly could no longer take the anguish of being outside of my house. Hailing a cab with miraculous speed, I headed home. I told the cabby there was extra tip in it for him if I made it home in record time but without a lot of jostling. Before I knew it I was at my door. Greeted by my dogs, I sank to the floor in the entryway and wept.

Waking up to the dog licking my face, I contemplated just lying there until he started to eat me. How terribly predictable. Looking at the phone to find the time, I decided to actually change the light bulb and check the destruction I caused in the bedroom. There were pillows strewn about and the lamp and clock were on the other side of the room, but there wasn't anything damaged except the carpet where it seems a good portion of wine had spilled. I wanted a new rug for this room any way.

Sitting on the floor, petting the dog, I contemplated the future of things. It does no good to look back wondering how or why. Lingering on the now isn't the place I want to stay either. Best to look forward. Tomorrow is just like yesterday. He's been gone a long time, really even before he left. Considering opening another bottle of wine, I opt for a shower instead. As the water warms me and washes away some of the aches from sleeping on the floor the dogs start to bark. Of course someone would try and stop by just as I get in the shower. The dogs suddenly stop barking as I turn off the water. Frustrated that I would have to start again, I hear the jingle of keys. Putting on my robe, I wander out of the bathroom. Damn you, September.

There, in my living room was the reason for my hangover. Both of them, my pending ex-husband and the one who is the new me. “Can I help you?” Surprise and fury cross his face as he turns to me. “I could have sworn you left that key here yesterday. You know, yesterday when you said that we'd split up any belonging you've left here with the help of the lawyers? So, that begs not one, but two questions. I'll give you four guesses. Whether you guess right or wrong, you're leaving at the end of the game, without that key.” Finally it wasn't me that gave the sigh of resignation. The key was surrendered and I was left alone without a word.

Throwing myself on the couch, I snuggle up to my dog. I've never been so grateful that he is an affection whore. Hearing my stomach growl I laugh and head for the kitchen. Finding something to snack on, I pick up the phone. I start to call someone, anyone just to not be alone in my house tonight. Calling Katy was an exercise in frustration. “I'm sorry, Allison. Want to get a drink? No? You know, I think I'm going shopping, I need a new pair of shorts.” I tuned out after that. Continuing to pet the dog, I wonder if every attempt will be such a fantastic failure. Giving up without another try, I turn on the television on without caring of what's on.

Fitful dreams of keys raining down on my made the night seem really long. Upon waking the next morning, I consider going to work even though I'd been told to stay home. Deciding to call the boss first, he reiterates staying home, telling me I'd be no use today in the office. Hanging up with a
grumble I foresee the boredom of my day stretching before me.

I turn on the radio to find the news and start the coffee. Thinking about what was and what might have been is something I have tried not to do for a long time, but it invades my mind as I sip my coffee. Trying to focus on the radio, I fight the tears that well up in my eyes. I hate crying, I hate doing it, I hate other people doing it. I never know how to react to either one. I succumb to the tears and let them flow. Moving the coffee out of the way, I lay my head on the table and sob. Never wanting to do things halfway, I let it all out, body shaking, wailing in anguish. After a while I don't have the energy to continue. I find my dogs lying in the floor on either side of me, and I wonder if I actually feel better or if I'm just too tired to continue being sad.

“Coffee's cold,” I say to my dog as I get up from the table. Tidying up after myself, I seek the shower. Washing away the streaks on my face, I hum. I smile to myself as I start to all out belt whatever songs come to my mind. I stayed under the shower giving a concert until the water ran cold.

I get out of the shower, still humming, to find I have three missed calls. I don't get three calls in a week, let alone the time it takes me to run the hot water out in the shower. One was from my mother, one was from my sister and one was from him. I skip the voicemails and call him back, assured he was going to try and talk him way around being in the house the day before. Instead I went to his voicemail. His generic greeting always annoyed me, so I hung up without leaving a message.