The rest of the day passed quietly.
I finished another section of my accounting lesson.
I cleaned the kitchen.
I put away a few things that had been sitting on the counter.
Nothing special.
But I noticed how much easier it was to move around the house without feeling that I needed to consider someone else's routine.
I could leave my notebook open.
I could make lunch whenever I wanted.
I could sit in the living room without wondering whether the television was too loud.
It wasn't that Gary had controlled every part of my life.
It was that I had become so used to adjusting that I rarely noticed how often I did it.
That evening, I was preparing something simple to eat when I heard a knock.
I opened the door.
Linda was standing there with a grocery bag.
"Hello."
I smiled.
"Back again?"
She lifted the bag.
"I brought something."
I stepped aside.
"Come in."
She walked into the kitchen and placed the bag on the counter.
I looked inside.
There was cheese.
Crackers.
A bottle of sparkling cider.
And a small cake.
The cake had pink frosting.
I looked at it.
"What is all this for?"
Linda smiled.
"An occasion."
I laughed.
"What occasion?"
She carefully placed the cake on the counter.
"You finally got your porch back."
I looked at her.
Then I laughed again.
My porch.
Such a simple thing.
But I understood what she meant.
For years, that porch had been the place where Gary came and went.
His shoes.
His golf clubs.
His keys.
His complaints about the weather.
His questions about dinner.
Then, four months earlier, it had become the place where he announced he was leaving.
And yesterday, it had become the place where he expected to return.
Now it was simply my porch again.
Linda opened the cupboard and found two plates.
"Don't tell me you already ate."
"Not yet."
"Good. Then we're having cake."
I looked at the pink frosting.
"You're suggesting cake for dinner?"
"I'm suggesting we celebrate something."
I smiled.
"All right."
We arranged the cheese and crackers on a plate.
Linda poured the sparkling cider into two glasses.
I cut the cake.
The pink frosting wasn't perfectly smooth.
One side was slightly higher than the other.
It looked homemade.
I liked it.
We sat at the kitchen table beneath the blue cabinets.
Linda raised her glass.
"To Debbie."
I lifted mine.
"To what?"
"To having your life back."
I looked at her.
Then I touched my glass against hers.
We drank.
For a while, we talked about ordinary things.
The neighborhood.
Her sister.
My accounting classes.
A few things we had planned to do.
It felt strange to talk about the future without automatically including Gary.
But it also felt good.
At one point, Linda looked toward the hallway.
"Do you think he'll come back again?"
I considered the question.
"I don't know."
She nodded.
"Would you let him in?"
I shook my head.
"No."
The answer came more easily than I expected.
Linda smiled.
"Good."
I looked at my plate.
There was a piece of cake left.
I took a small bite.
It was sweeter than I usually liked.
But I didn't mind.
Then Linda asked whether I had heard from our son.
I told her we had spoken recently.
She asked how he was doing.
I answered.
We didn't spend long discussing him.
He was twenty-four now.
He had his own life.
And I was glad he did.
I didn't want to involve him in the arguments between his parents.
He had grown up.
He deserved to have his own relationships with both of us without being asked to choose sides.
Linda understood.
She didn't press the subject.
We finished the cake.
The plates were almost empty.
Then I noticed that I was beginning to cry.
I put down my fork.
Linda looked at me.
"Debbie?"
I shook my head.
"I'm all right."
She waited.
I wiped my cheek.
"I don't know why I'm crying."
She moved her chair closer.
"That's okay."
I looked at the blue cabinets.
The same cabinets Gary had complained about.
The same kitchen where I had once saved dinner for him.
The same table where I had spent so many evenings trying to understand what had gone wrong.
And now I was sitting there with my neighbor, eating cake and drinking sparkling cider.
I wasn't crying because I wanted Gary back.
I wasn't crying because I regretted closing the door.
I was crying because I had finally understood how long I had spent putting his happiness ahead of my own.
For twenty-two years, I had made excuses.
I had adjusted.
I had waited.
I had convinced myself that keeping the peace was more important than saying what I really thought.
And when he left, I had believed that losing him meant I had failed.
But that wasn't the truth.
I had not failed because he chose to leave.
I had not become less valuable because another woman had taken his attention.
And I did not have to accept him back simply because his other relationship had ended.
Linda reached for my hand.
"You don't have to explain."
I nodded.
For a few moments, neither of us spoke.
Then I looked around the kitchen.
The cake.
The plates.
The glasses.
The blue cabinets.
Everything was ordinary.
But it felt different.
Linda smiled.
"At least you can choose what color the kitchen is now."
I laughed through my tears.
"That was the first thing I chose."
"And a good choice."
I looked at the cabinets again.
"Yes. It was."
Later, after Linda left, I washed the plates.
I wiped the counter.
I put the remaining crackers away.
Then I turned off the kitchen light.
Before going upstairs, I walked to the front door.
I checked the lock.
It was secure.
I rested my hand on it for a moment.
The porch was empty.
No suitcases.
No golf clubs.
No man waiting for me to change my mind.
I switched off the hallway light.
And for the first time in a very long while, I went to bed without wondering whether someone else was going to decide what happened to my life.
My home was quiet.
My kitchen was blue.
And I was finally comfortable being the person who made the decisions.
Source: kaylestore.net
The End
Read more original stories on Feel Every Story.
He Arrived With His Suitcases Expecting Dinner, Never Realizing the Woman Waiting Behind That Door Was No Longer His Wife in the Same Way
Part 8 of 8
