"How DID Y'All Meet?" Part XXII

For the first twenty-one posts...

I went through the day in a fog. I straightened the house, folded the laundry, weeded the flower beds, and waved to the neighbors.

I greeted the realtor with as much excitement as a death row inmate ordering his last meal.

"Well Shug, y'all must be so excited to get back to all those Yankees."

Indeed. I guess that's what I needed. Everyone kept saying that I'd be "home" soon. I'd be with family. I'd no longer have to wonder who all y'all were if y'all were you ALL. I could go back to putting my groceries away instead of "up." There'd be pizza, bagels, theatre.

None of it made sense and I just needed to get through the rest of the day. I was flying back home in the morning to begin my house hunt.




BS called as the realtor was leaving and I let the phone go to voicemail. I needed to let my brain decay. I needed to understand what was happening, because truthfully, I didn't have a clue.


I turned on the faucet to fill the tub and walked around the house to be sure the doors were locked. When I returned I sunk into the small swimming pool that F*ckF*ce insisted we have in the master bath. It was the only time I was glad we had it.




I let the jets pound my neck and back and said silent prayers for clarity and guidance.


With a towel twisted on my head and my robe on I couldn't help but laugh at the image I saw. I was wearing a short, ratty terry robe that I'd had since college; not the monogrammed, lush one with my "new initials" on it. I was wearing a perfectly broken in pair of flip flops from my life guarding days that had seen better days. I walked into the kitchen and made myself a spinach omelet and a tossed salad. That's the last meal I ever made in that kitchen.


When I was done, I called BS back. I left him a voicemail and retreated to the bathroom to take the towel off my nearly dry hair. When I did the doorbell rang.


I opened the door wearing above mentioned robe and flip flops.


"Uh. I'm sorry Minnie. I saw where I missed your call and I was already on my way here. I'll just let you get some drawers on an..."


"Dude, apparently we've been naked together before and I'm too tired to run into my bedroom. Come on in and have a seat, I'll be right back."


He blushed.


A lot.


I went into my bedroom and threw on some clothes. When I returned, in a tattered pair of yoga pants and a tee he was standing in the kitchen looking out to the lake.



"That's the view. Right there. That is why I built this house. I wanted to stand in my kitchen and look out the windows or doors and see water."




"Are Y'all rich ?"




"What?"


"Well I opened one wrong drawer last time I was here and there was a wad of cash sittin' there. And this kitchen, and this house..."


"Don't forget to address my million dollar wardrobe," I added while pulling at my yoga pants.



"I'm just wondering if that's why you stay."


"You're probably one of the most honest people I know. Thank you for that. Really. And no, we're not rich. And no, I haven't stayed because of money, we've been married less than a year. "




"Do you love him?"




"I thought so," it was the most honest answer I had. I really thought so. I also was not too sure that I should be trusting my judgement at the point since the man I love sent me for a ride down the stairs.




"You're honest too," (back off kids. He's all mine.)




"Well geesch. You sure do know how to talk to a girl," I half giggled. "We need to figure out this whole naked picture thing though."


"I'm sure my wife is just blowing smoke," he offered.


"I'll bet your wrong," I told him.