I slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Save for the setting sun, there was no light in the apartment. The cats were nowhere to be found. I would’ve thought I were alone were it not for the sound of the television coming for our bedroom.
“Here we go,” I said to myself. My heart began to beat faster and faster as I made my way toward Jack, who was no doubt lying in bed drinking Dr. Pepper and watching a “Doctor Who” rerun. I hate Dr. Pepper. I hate “Doctor Who.” I hate my doctor, whose incompetence came between me and my Xanax. And don’t get me started on that stupid doctor who stole my parking space at work the other night. You know, I think I just hate doctors.
In the living room, I caught a glimpse of the sterling silver box I purchased for Jack during my last trip to New York City. Overcome with emotion, I took the box in my hand and sat on the sofa. That time in Manhattan was supposed to save our relationship. When I’d returned, Jack assured me that it had saved our relationship. Jack lied.
When I arrived on Jasper’s doorstep I was a broken man. During the flight to New York, I’d read Jack’s list over and over again. He presented 19 reasons to break up with me. An impartial third party, Jasper helped me work through my hysteria (Side Note- You’ll never believe how female hysteria was treated in the 1800’s—Look it up!) and see the situation from a rational perspective.
A failed relationship is never the fault of one person alone. It takes two people to screw it up. I had my flaws, and I made some awful mistakes. But so did Jack. For whatever reason though, I was not yet ready to recognize Jack’s shortcomings in New York. My only goal was to do whatever I could to appease him. I didn’t want to lose him.
You can call it desperation or stupidity, but I called it love. Regardless of what you call that emotion, it sent Jasper and I on one of the biggest shopping sprees I’ve ever undertaken.
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