Page 21 of Rainstorm

These last months have been difficult for us, but never as bad as this. He’s wearing some kind of invisible armor. Something heavy, thick and impenetrable. Quietly, I observe as he gets his leather briefcase from its place beside the door, then produces a blue folder which he carefully places on the table in front of me.

Damn it. He leaves it there without saying one word, and I know this is bad. Whatever is inside this folder is nothing good.

His expression is pained.

But not as pained as me.

He’s just stabbed me.

Fast, hard and in the middle of my chest. Right through my heart.

It feels as if I have a hand on my throat squeezing so hard I can’t think, hell, I can’t even breathe.

This is a lie.

This is not happening.

This is a nightmare.

I need to wake up.

This is a hallucination. Black letters screaming out loud about what’s inside that damn folder. My hands are trembling so much, I doubt I have the strength to even pick it up.

This is like a time bomb no one wants to disarm.

This is a death sentence.

The end.

Our story doesn’t have a happy ending. Our happily ever after wasn’t eternal.

Hesitantly, I force myself to open the folder, as if it’s cursed. Like those explorers who dared to open the lid on Pharaoh’s sarcophagus. Calling something profane, evil.

Murdering our shared life.

“What is this, Chase?” My voice is just above a whisper.

“You can see what it is.”

But I cannot believe what I’m seeing right there in front of me.

A divorce agreement.

“Why?”

Chase has brought me a divorce settlement. My husband wants to leave me, but somehow he’s already gone.

“I want to do things amicably. We don’t have children, so that makes it easier. This will remain your home, and you keep your car. I have also arranged a monthly allowance, regardless of whether you take a job or not. It’s up to you, whatever you want to do is fine by me. You can also take advice from your own lawyer if you wish, I will not dispute that. I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

Time to think.

Fuck!

Time to think about it?

How dare he?

Time. To. Think.

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