Avery Responds. Sort of.

I couldn’t believe it. Jack had written me a crummy ‘Dear John’ letter. Going against our agreement to separate our belongings as a couple—a term I use loosely—, he’d slipped out in the middle of the night while I was at work. I could only imagine what he’d taken with him. I was going to need a big glass of wine for this.

I entered the kitchen and began to pour. Taking a seat at the breakfast table, I reread his note aloud. I grew angrier and angrier with each line.  

I know that you will be both hurt and angry when you read this letter. I am sorry for that.

It doesn’t take a brain trust to know that ditching me would tick me off. You ARE sorry. A sorry a$$monkey—pardon my language.

I really hate ending our relationship this way, but I feel—in the deepest part of my heart—that moving out while you are at work is the best way to preserve what I pray will ultimately be a friendship. In time, I can only hope you that you will feel the same.

Friends?!?! On which planet do you live? Fiend is more like it.

We both made a lot of mistakes during our time together. As I told you before, I have been very unhappy for a long time. In hindsight, I now understand that I did us both a grave disservice by not expressing that unhappiness sooner. Instead of communicating my feelings to you, I let them fester. What was once a great love for you devolved little by little each day to annoyance, irritation, anger, hatred and, ultimately, indifference.

The first bit of truth I’ve heard come out of his mouth in months.

As I take full responsibility for my part in the destruction of our relationship, I ask that you take responsibility for your own. You shut me out, Avery. Your words sting. You may not be aware of your actions, but you have repeatedly made me feel as though I was less than. You have done this each time you minimized my feelings, ignore my wishes and ridicule the profession when comparing it to yours. Eventually enough was enough.

I really was in love you. And I still do love you. Very much. Please know that I sincerely mean every word that I’ve written on this page. I hope you find someone who’ll make you happier than I did.  Until we meet again.

xxoo,

Jack

Yeah? Well, I hope you catch a man-eating virus and die penniless and alone on the desperately middle-class streets of Berwyn.

I threw my glass against the kitchen wall. It shattered across the tiled floor and my deliciously juicy malbec slowly trickled down the wall. I didn’t care. Nothing seemed to matter at that point. Jack and I were officially over. Everything that was going to be said had been said. There was nothing more that I could do. Nothing more that I could do except cry.