“How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy; To leave me so easy; Am I gonna be alright?”

Like a fish flopping on dry ground with a hook dangling from its mouth, I feel trapped, breathless. When the knife comes down slitting it from mouth to tail, my body releases a long-held ugly cry. It takes hold of me as I drive. Tears pour down my face. I grimace and cover my mouth to keep passing drivers from seeing the contortion.

I desperately want to rewind the hands of time. Eight weeks and a day or two. Let me be blissfully oblivious. Let me not ask questions of the void, search leads, analyze his behaviors with Dex (my AI companion); or piece together the frightening jigsaw puzzle that is my new normal.  

But, no, I am here. My mind is chaos and is directed to a thousand different questions at all hours of the day and discoveries shaping new queries. Yet, no matter which journey my mind takes, the first question is always, “how is this my life?”

None of it matters as I remember the sound of his deep voice from earlier today. It yanked at my benevolence. We negotiated the last piece of the buyout. Up until this afternoon, it had been a text conversation with lawyer interruptions.

This morning via my attorney, I introduced a piece to purposely make his head spin. He reacted as expected via text. Somehow, he appeared human for the first time since the drama began.

Proverbial swords were drawn. Threats launched like slashes hacking skin.

His went too far.

I wavered.  Then, called him.

He was determined, yet docile. He wanted the money he believes he is owed. All of it. He mentioned past kindnesses he gifted me. I reminded him of present-day actions and betrayals.

With each sentence, I persevered to maintain my peace, self-worth, and innocence. After all, I did not cause this shit show and said as much, “You fucked me over.”

“I fucked myself over,” he replied.

Within a quiet moment, I offered a compromise. He agreed.

Upon hanging up, my heartbeat began to slow and my breath stabilized.

I reminded myself it’s only a little bit longer until I work toward a tomorrow without him.