On The Mend

I wish I could say that that was the last time I spoke to Adam other than our final goodbyes after the divorce. I wish I could, but I can’t. I should have known that Adam wasn’t going to make getting a divorce easy -- nothing was ever easy when it came to that man (except all the women he slept with). Especially considering that now, two years later, we’re still married.

Yeah. I know.

The night I left I went straight to Patrick’s and slept there because, unlike Adam, when I have a responsibility (my job) I take it seriously. Thankfully the next day was a Friday and I headed over to my lawyer’s office as soon as the final bell rang. I told her that I wanted nothing from Adam except the apartment in the city because it was mine before we got married. She said that it would take a few weeks to get into contact with Adam’s lawyer and draft the papers and after we signed them it would take another three weeks to finalize. I didn’t care how long it took as long as it got done.

I guess my naive mindset came back to bite me in the ass.

When I got back to the apartment, Adam was gone but Princess wasn’t so I knew he’d be coming back. I kicked my heels off and walked into the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. Walking in, I noticed that the bed was still unmade (of course) and that the drawers had been pulled out of Adam’s dresser and thrown all over the room. The mirror in the bathroom was cracked from an obvious punch and a trail of blood drops led from the sink to the shower where I assume he cleaned up after expressing his rage.

Sighing, I walked back towards the closet and stripped down to just my bra and panties. As soon as I pulled a tank top over my head I heard Adam enter the bedroom. He came over and stood in the doorway and I stood in front of him, motionless, wearing no pants. His eyes didn’t trail down, they stayed on mine.

I knew he knew. There was no way he couldn’t have known where I’d been that afternoon. I told him from day one that I don’t tolerate infidelity in any form even if it’s something as simple as stealing money from the bank in Monopoly. Maybe he had more faith in me that I wouldn’t end it as soon as I could, but I had enough faith in him to think that he wouldn’t force me to end it at all.

“How’s your hand?” I asked.

“Could be better.”

And the conversation ended. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and left the room, I put on a pair of sweats. I spent the rest of the night on my bed reading the first set of final papers from my students and watching the Food Network.

The weekend passed without any conversations. On Monday afternoon, I came home from work to find Princess gone and a note on the counter.

Soph,
I’m sorry. For everything. I hope you can forgive me and until that day, I’ll be waiting. When I said “I do” I meant forever.

- Adam

P.S. I’m staying with Kaner.

I probably should have been more upset than I was. I don’t remember ever crying myself to sleep or falling into depression whenever someone would ask me why I wasn’t wearing my ring -- I didn’t even lie and say that I left it at home, I told them the truth: Adam and I were over and I filed for divorce.

The school year ended and Adam’s team entered the final round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. I watched them win the Cup from the apartment in Milwaukee where I ended up after Patrick Kane kicked Adam out of his apartment and back into the one we shared in the city. In all honestly I didn’t expect them to win but I also didn’t expect the Flyers to give up the fight so easily. I watched Adam hoist the Cup and saw no trace of anything but happiness in his eyes.

Why shouldn’t he have been happy? He was able to fuck anyone with legs without guilt now that I was gone. That’s what I thought, at least. I wouldn’t find out until later that that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I was never really friends with any of the other wives and girlfriends -- they were too caught up in their husband’s lives to create lives of their own. When Adam and I were together, I was always hanging out with the guys. Eventually I began to act like them. If we went out to dinner with Brower and his wife, his wife would order salad and fish and I would order steak and potatoes. If the guys won a game and we went out to celebrate, I drank beers instead of margaritas. And if for some reason I needed someone to talk to, I’d call one of the guys and talk to them.

That’s how I found out about Adam being traded to Dallas.

The divorce wasn’t settled and I was being kept in the dark as to why. My lawyer told me that his lawyer was taking forever to get back to her about finalizing things. I was assured, however, that as soon as his lawyer got off their ass and sent the papers back that I would be officially divorced. But more about that later.

It was Kris Versteeg who told me. Adam and I had switched places by that time so I was back in Chicago going through my lessons from the previous year and weeding out those that didn’t work or held no value to the students. The last time I talked to Adam was two weeks before when he told me he was sorry (the word was bound to come out at any point in any conversation we’d had) and that the pipes were leaking at the place in Milwaukee. I asked him what that had to do with me and he said he just thought I should know.

I was at a diner with Kris on his final morning in the city before he had to leave for Toronto. We were cracking jokes about his pancakes that looked like penises and talking about how different our lives were going to be this season when he asked me if I knew about Adam.

“What about Adam?” I asked, thinking he may have been hurt. Adam would call me about dumb things such as a pipe leaking but not about serious things like an injury. He’d always been that way -- a “manly man” who could take care of himself.

“He got traded. He didn’t tell you?”

The guys all knew about the divorce. It was obvious by the way I didn’t show up during the playoffs and how, when the Redeye (a local Chicago paper) stalked me in Milwaukee and took photos of me walking around I wasn’t wearing my rings. The entire hockey community probably knew thanks to fan sites and Tumblr.

“No.” I didn’t know what else to say. It’s not that I didn’t care, but what reason did I have to care? We obviously weren’t going to be one of those divorced couples who stay friends after everything is final.

“He’s going to Dallas.”

I’m an English teacher: I went to school for five years and did nothing but read books that I hated and write twenty page papers on how good they were. But I knew where Dallas is in comparison to Chicago and I knew that it’s far. I also knew that since the divorce was still unsettled it was going to take longer to finish things off than I’d hoped. What was originally five or so weeks would become seven or eight but, again, I was willing to wait as long as it did get done.

“Oh,” I remember replying. “Well, I hope he gets there what I couldn’t give him here.”

Kris then went into a rant that I don’t remember because it was the same thing all the guys said when I’d finally let my guard down by blaming myself for Adam being stupid. Adam didn’t deserve you, he wasn’t ready to grow up, and he’ll see were all common words found in these rants, words that I should have taken comfort in but instead grew to resent.

I know Adam didn’t deserve me. I’m a hot bitch and he, well, he’s…Adam.
I know Adam wasn’t ready to grow up. I’m not sure if he’s ever going to be ready. He’s got the worst case of Peter Pan Syndrome that I’ve ever seen.
I knew he’d soon realize his mistake. I’m sure he realized it the moment he walked in on me in just my underwear the day I filed for divorce.

But Adam being Adam didn’t decide to act on it until now -- when I’m standing in front of the door to his apartment with another man’s ring on my finger and unsigned divorce papers in my purse.