Page 7 of Kiss From A Rose

My heart stopped, then raced—her wedding and engagement rings lay on the polished walnut, alongside her credit cards. I snatched up the folded page that had fallen out with them. It wastheletter.

My darling Gray.

I know this will annoy you, or maybe it won't; maybe you've been waiting for me to do this.

I'm leaving. Our home. Atlanta. Mrs. Rutherford. You. Us.

I'll get in touch with a lawyer as soon as I get my bearings and send divorce papers over, or you can start the process.

I'm leaving my phone, the credit cards, my rings, everything I can think of. All the jewelry and the designer clothes are still in the closet. I just took my daily use clothes and things.

I've drawn five thousand dollars from the household account. I know what our prenup says, so please know I'll pay it back to you as soon as humanly possible.

I'll talk to the kids and explain the best I can. Don't worry, I'll make sure they know that this is all my fault, that I walked away without ever talking about how unhappy I was, without giving us a chance.

But the truth is, I've been asking you to see me for so many years, and yet I continued to be invisible. You forgetting our twentieth anniversary was the last straw, not because it was our anniversary, but because it was clear to me that you'd always have something that was more important than me, more real than me.

I’m almost forty. If I'm lucky, I have another thirty or so years of my life left. I don't want to live them as invisible Rose who comes out to play hostess, mother, and lover. I want to be a whole person.

I'm really sorry, Gray.

Take care of yourself.

Rose

P.S. I've left enough food in the freezer for the next week or two. Easy meals that you just need to heat in the oven.

The letter trembled in my hands as shock rippled through me. I felt a hollow emptiness in my chest, like a part of me had been violently extracted.

My eyes blurred over the words again, each sentence a hammer blow. How had I missed the signs? How could I have been so blind to her unhappiness? I sat down heavily, the chair creaking under the sudden weight of my realization.

No. I hadn't missed the signs. I had willfully ignored them.

I picked up my phone and called Jude. He was out somewhere when he answered. I could hear music playing in the back.

"Where you at, son?"

"Out with friends, Dad. What's up?"

"Did your Mama call you today?"

I heard him talk to someone and laugh and then get back to me. "Yeah, I think I have a missed call. Why?"

"She left you a message?"

I heard him work his phone. "Yeah."

"Did you listen to it?"

"Nah, Dad. You know how she is."

No, I didn't know how she was. She didn't nag. She didn't demand. And yet, Jude talked about her like she was needy and controlling.

"Listen to the fucking message and forward it to me."

I hung up and called Willow; it went straight to voicemail. I texted and asked her to listen to Rose's voicemail and send it to me. I was sure she'd left one for both the children, taking the blame for our marriage's debacle and demise.

I picked up the engagement ring and rolled it in my fingers. I never proposed to her—I'd just told her we'd get married because she was pregnant. My mother had bought the rings and made sure there was an announcement in theAtlanta Constitution Journalabout the engagement. I remembered the photo session my mother had organized. Rose had not looked like my Rose. She'd worn makeup and looked so much like all the other Atlanta society girls that I'd raged at her after the photo shoot.

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