The Possum of DiscontentPosted: April 18, 2016 Filed under: Writing | Tags: divorce, fiction, fight, marriage, possum, rabies 2 Comments
I think it all started with the possum.
Our yard backed up on actual nature, so naturally, we had a lot of wildlife show up in our yard. Raccoons, possums, even deer. And so I made friends with them. Polly was a possum that came to see me the most; she would even hop on my shoulder, and when she did, I would give her a kiss. Well, I’d let her give me a kiss.
Patrick hated that. He would spend hours ranting and raving about rabies. I didn’t care, of course. I knew Polly was fine. It got to the point where I let her kiss me just to spite Patrick. This was one of those times.
He screamed and yelled at me. I have no idea why he had to do that. I mean, he hated me by then anyway. I don’t know why he didn’t realized he would have been better off had he just watched me get bitten and contract rabies, or make friends with an armadillo and end up with leprosy. At that, I’m lucky that I never did get Lyme disease. There were so many ticks in our yard. I can’t stand ticks. So disgusting.
Anyway, Patrick screamed. And that day he did something he’d never done before: he threw coffee in my face. Fortunately, Patrick is a little bitch who drinks coffee with so much milk in it that it’s barely lukewarm by the time it gets to his shitty little mouth, so it didn’t physically hurt me. But only physically. I swore to him that if anything like that ever happened again in our lives together, he would lose an integral part of himself.
Yeah, I stay up nights thinking of threats to hit him with. In my room. Which is separate from his room. You may ask why, if things are so miserable, if our marriage is so miserable, if we’re both so miserable, why we stay together. This was the first and last day that I actually asked myself that question. I know it’s hard for someone outside the situation to understand, but I promise, it’s different when it’s your life and your marriage.
For us, those vows that we promised in front of our whole family, in front of the masses of our friends who had assembled for the sole purpose of hearing us speak those vows, well, that meant a little more than it apparently does to the average person. For me. I know the vows meant more to me.
I’ve finally realized that it was always and only me. Just me. Patrick never cared enough to start divorce proceedings. He never cared about anything. He never cared about the vows, or the marriage, or me. He only ever cared about himself. I married the most selfish man I have ever met.
But I‘m getting ahead of myself right now.
I’m trying to tell you about the possum, and how one wild possum ended my marriage.
The possum that never gave me rabies.
The possum led to harsh words, the harsh words led to coffee being thrown, the coffee led to threats, the threats led to anger, the anger led to pain, and the pain led to divorce.
Patrick took his empty coffee cup, and he put it in the sink, without saying a single solitary word. Then he turned around and he picked up his briefcase from the table next to the front door, the place where he always kept it, and he opened the door and left, slamming it shut behind him. I faintly heard his car start in the driveway, followed by the sound of his tires screaming against the road as he left in furious anger.