Page 9 of Embers in Our Past

Abby

Yeah. Hot double date with Marissa and my hair. You should have seen the looks we got. It was impressive. LOL.

How’s my favorite lawyer?

Abby

Good. She’s dating someone new now. She seems happy.

That’s good to hear. How about you, Abby? Did you find your happiness out there?

I’m pushing her. I know I am, but I can’t help it. I need to hear her say it’s better for her out there than it would be here. She left me, and deep down, I know she’s better off with me. We are meant to be together, and I don’t know what it’s going to take for her to realize it, but I need her to open her eyes.

Abby

I’m as happy as I’m going to be, Clay.

What does that even mean, Abby?

Abby

It means I’m giving you a chance to find a better future. You know this. We’ve talked about this already.

No. You talked, and I had no choice. There’s a difference. You didn’t give me a choice. I chose you. I still do.

Abby

Well, I choose to give you a better future, and that doesn’t include me.

That’s bullshit, and you know it.

I decide calling her is a better option and ditch the texting.

“Clay, I don’t want to fight.” She sighs into my ear. The moment I hear her voice, even if she’s exasperated by this conversation, relief washes over me.

“I’m not fighting. I’m having a conversation, Abby. That’s what couples do.”

“Well, we aren’t a couple anymore. We haven’t been for some time now. I think the divorce papers prove that.”

I don’t know why she has to remind me we’re divorced. Maybe she does it to keep herself in check. I don’t need her to bring it up because I’m well aware of our situation. The lack of the ring on my finger is a constant reminder of what I’m missing in my life. She’s a daily missing piece for me.

“Yeah, I think you’ve done a good job solidifying that fact. Thanks, Abby.” I let irritation lace my tone.

When I looked around tonight, I felt her absence in every fabric of the wedding. She should have been there. Every moment, I wanted to share a memory or a significance with her. I’m close to my brother and Ashton, but the way I felt a pull to Abby was next level.

“Clay, listen, I don’t think this is healthy.” Abby sounds exasperated as she talks to me.

“What?”

“Us talking to one another,” she responds as if we talk on the daily.

I haven’t heard her voice since she walked out on me. And hearing it is instantly soothing my racing heart. I hate to admit it, but she feels like a comfort after a race. I still want to hold her in my arms when I feel overwhelmed by the difficulties this life has to offer.

But she left when things got hard. We never spoke again when she left our home that day, and it took everything in me not to pick up the phone so I could talk to her again. I gave her space, all communication coming in the form of texts or through our lawyers.

I thought she’d come running back. She never did. Each day turned into a week. Then a month turned into six. Now, a year later, and here we are, in a phone call, and I’m wishing I could hold her again.

Many describe marriage as signing one’s life away, but getting a divorce felt more like it held that sentiment for me. I don’t recognize the existence I’m living today. I’m constantly mourning the married life I lived versus embracing the divorced one I have ahead. It sounds pathetic, but the life of a bachelor is absolutely daunting to me.

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