Page 2 of The Problem with Dating
And I couldn’t wait.
The excitement has been buzzing ever since I had gotten the job. After I had left and divorced Marco, I had struggled to build a life from the nothing he had left me with. We hadn’t been married long enough for me to be entitled to anything, and my pride wouldn’t let me ask that man for anything other than the divorce. His taunts and reminders that I’d had nothing wouldn’t let me ask him for even a crumb.
My parents had both been only children, but I remembered my mother had a great aunt who had lived in Carmel. Mom had always told me that the woman was a little on the crazy side and didn’t like people, so we had never visited. But my mom always sent her holiday cards and gifts, even if we had never gotten anything back. So, with both my sets of grandparents long passed, and no other family to speak of, I had reached out to Aunt Charmlee, and had left pride outside the door as I had explained my situation.
I hadn’t really expected her to help me, and she hadn’t seemed too keen on wanting to help me, but then she had asked me how I had managed to wrangle a divorce out of Marco-her words, not mine-and I had told her the truth.
Marco had hit me only those two times. However, the first time had been shame on him, while the second time had been shame on me, and there wasn’t going to be a third time. So, unbeknownst to him, I’d had my phone propped up and already recording when he had barged into the bathroom the night he had hit me the second time. I’d known he would come in because he liked to argue. Marco didn’t stop until you agreed he was right, and he was going to make sure we went to bed that night with him in the right and me in the wrong-again.
After I had put away the medical kit and left my lip to air dry, I had walked into the bedroom with Marco hot on my heels. Placing my phone on the nightstand next to my bed, he’d been too mad to notice how I’d propped it up again. We had fought some more, and the more we had fought, the more he had damned himself until I’d had enough on my phone to ruin him. And as much as he deserved to go to jail for hitting me, I had traded my silence for a quick, uncomplicated divorce, where he could tell anyone whatever he wanted, as long as I was free of him. He hadn’t had a choice if he had wanted to remain a political figure in Bratton, or anywhere else for that matter.
When I had finished explaining all that to Aunt Charmlee, she had asked me, “So, you’re not a victim?’
I had looked her in the eyes and replied, “If I was a victim, I wouldn’t be here.” She had welcomed me into her home after that, even if we did hardly speak or spend time together.
So, after moving in with Aunt Charmlee, I had gone back to school to re-certify my teaching credentials. I had been a teacher when I had met Marco, but between the loss of my parents and letting Marco manipulate me into believing my best choice was having him take care of me, I had quit my teaching job and had revolved my life around Marco and his needs. And for a couple of years, things had been perfect between us. So perfect, that I had married him after only two years of dating.
After finally getting everything up to requirement, I had started sending out resumes to schools all over California. I hadn’t really cared who hired me as long as I could finally get back on my feet and start having a life again. While Aunt Charmlee had never gone overboard with her affections, she had quietly supported me, and she had never made me feel like a burden. She had never asked me when I was leaving or anything like that. She never asked me to pay her back for food and board, though I did contribute with my part-time job as a waitress at a local restaurant. I had been able to work nights and complete my re-certifications during the day.
Shortly after sending out my resume, I had received an offer from Granger High, and I hadn’t even bothered with waiting to see if I’d get any other offers.
I had accepted immediately.
However, life hadn’t been all roses and rainbow after receiving my offer. Three months later, Aunt Charmlee had come down with a severe case of pneumonia, and she passed only a few weeks later. The devastation had been real. She’d been my last family member, and it had really hit home how I was completely alone after losing her.
And it hadn’t mattered how much time I spent with her, during those last few weeks of her life, telling her how much I loved and appreciated her. There was no way she could have truly understood the difference she had made in my life. She had kept brushing off my gratitude, but I still never stopped telling her what she meant to me until I had to; until she was gone.
The biggest surprise, however, had come a couple of weeks after I had buried Aunt Charmlee, when an attorney had reached out to me, explaining that she’d had a will, and I was in it. We had made an appointment, and I still got breathless when I thought back to our meeting.
Aunt Charmlee had left me everything she had, and it had been a lot. She’d had a life insurance policy that had paid out a quarter of a million dollars, and if that hadn’t been enough, she had given instructions to sell her house with all proceeds going to me, so that I could buy myself a home wherever I chose to make a life.
I had cried every day for a week.
So, after the sale of the house, taxes, and going through all of her belongings, I’d had enough money to buy a nice home in a great neighborhood that was only fifteen minutes from the Granger High School. It needed a little bit of work, but, thanks to Aunt Charmlee, I had money for that.
I had purchased the home with the money from the sale of her house and the life insurance had been put into a savings account, untouched, in case another disaster befell me. Again, life had already fooled me once that the second time was on me. I wanted to be prepared unlike the first time.
The house was a nice three-bedroom, two and a half baths, with a big backyard. I was hoping for a pet once I got settled, but that could wait. I wanted a big, sloppy, happy dog that will be as happy to see me as I will be to see him.
The biggest inconvenience will be living out of boxes in the meantime. I didn’t want to unpack only to have to shove everything aside when I finally hired a contractor to repair the some of the flooring in the bathroom.
When I had inquired about the house, the seller had been completely honest about its conditions, and had admitted to some flooding that should be checked out. I had known there was a reason the house had been selling for so cheap, but I’d been so excited, I hadn’t cared about the additional costs. The home belonged to me outright, and that freed up a lot of my teacher’s salary for repairs.
The only problem was that the flooding had begun in the master-bedroom, and the seller couldn’t tell me how far the damage had extended. So, that meant finding a contractor who wasn’t going to snow me with contractor talk and rob me blind.
But even if he did, I couldn’t tap down the emotion that raced through me whenever I thought about all Aunt Charmlee had done for me, both when she had been alive and now that she has passed. I was so grateful for her that I wasn’t even sure if I could get mad at a thieving contractor because I had more than I ever imagined I’d have after that shitshow with Marco.
Thinking of him, I was glad I’d been able to get out that situation when I had. And I was especially grateful that we’d hadn’t had any kids together. Even if I had been strong to leave with my children, Marco would have been someone who would always be in my life because of the children we shared, and that would have been miserable.
It’s been three years, but my life was finally looking to settle into something welcoming and warm. I had my own home, a good job, and even though I had no friends, I couldn’t wait to make some. My house was in a nice neighborhood, and, hopefully, that came with nice neighbors.
I was also ready to date.
Marco hadn’t turned me into a man-hater, and that was another good thing happening in my life. These past three years had been all about picking up the pieces, but now that they’d been picked up, I was ready for a full, happy life.
And while I missed sex, I really missed the excitement of getting to know someone. I missed learning about a person and experiencing new things.
Especially, in the bedroom.
