Wreckage Part III

I have learned my lesson. I can't ever see Simon again. I knew it was going to be a bad idea to see him in person.

I found yet another box of his stuff in my apartment. Honestly, you'd think I live in a sprawling 2000 sq.ft. condo with the amount of crap I keep finding. Just when I think I've cleared it all out, whammo! I manage to find another box.

I had plans to be up in the Dufferin/Steeles area to pick up a baby shower gift for my coworker, so since I would be three quarters of the way to Simon's parents' house, I figured I do him a favour and drop the box off.

I left a message on his cell phone letting him know that I'd be up there around 6:30pm. He called me back and was sickeningly sweet with me on the phone. It pissed me off so much that I threw the phone down and forgot it in my apartment as I left for Vaughn.

I didn't make it to the store before it closed - damn rush hour traffic! When I went into my purse to grab my phone, I realized I'd left it at home. So I drove to a gas station around the corner from his parents' place and called from a payphone. I asked him to meet me at the gas station. I really didn't want to see his parents again, and I wanted to meet on neutral ground.

Five minutes later he pulled up in his dad's car and the moment he stepped out, I started bawling. He came up to me and started hugging and kissing my face. I was completely paralyzed. The only thing I could do was cry. He kept asking me what was wrong? Why was I crying?

I managed to wiggle out of his arms and grab the box from the back seat of my car. I gave it to him, and then just blurted out, "What did you tell Jordan?"

The answer: nothing. He hasn't told his own daughter that we have split up. That made me cry even harder. I asked him to tell her I love her and to let her know that it's not her fault in any way. To which he said that Jordan wouldn't think such a thing. I reminded him that all kids think bad things are their fault. I thought it was my fault that my mother got cancer and died when I was 9 years old.

I got back into my car and he knelt down at my driver's door and started telling me that he still loves me, and that he will always love me. This of course made me bawl even harder. He said that we should talk and work things out. He said that he's changed and he's got his anger under control. I should call him if ever I need anything.

For one second I believed him. And in that second, my life was good again. And in the next second, I heard my therapist's voice screaming "NEVER AGAIN".

I told him it was too late for everything he was saying. It's over for good.

He got up and walked towards his car and then turned around and said, "We're still married".

I remember thinking "THAT DIDN'T STOP YOU FROM BONING SHANNON". But my brain couldn't get my face to stop crying long enough to scream that at him. I just shut the car door and drove home.

Needless to say, when I woke up the next morning, I looked like I'd been hit in the face with a shovel. Feel free to refer to the post called "Wreckage Part II" to see the effects of crying all night long.

Never again. Never again. Never again. Never again. Never again.