“Tara, you can have the house,” I said. “You can have it all.”
Tara looked down and away. “You sure?” We’d been on the verge of divorce for the better part of a year. I’d hoped the trip to Mexico would change things — light the spark again kind of thing. No such luck. She was leaving, or I had to leave the house.
“Maybe it’s better this way,” I said.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Tara said. “It’s not like I’m innocent either.”
“Don’t even go there.” I waved my hands. “Just don’t even–“
“If you would have made love to me like you did back in Spring Lake, things would be fine.”
“Oh, so now all of this is my fault?” I tapped my chest. “How dare you turn this around on me.”
“You wanted the truth — that’s the truth.”
“I wanted to hear you loved me and were sorry.” I teared up. “I just wanted to hear you say you were sorry.”
Tara wrapped her arms around me. It wasn’t a sympathetic touch; it was a sensual ‘I can’t live without you’ touch.
“Where’s all this coming from?”
Tara brushed tears away with her finger. “I don’t want to break up.”
“But we signed the papers, and the moving truck is waiting.”
“Fuck em,” Tara said. “Make love to me, but like you did in Carolina, not the drunk quickie kind.”
“Shut up, and make love to me,” Tara said, removing layers of clothes. She shook her jeans off. And I couldn’t fucking believe this was happening.
We signed the divorce papers, and the moving truck waited in the driveway to take me to some shitty apartment.
She wrapped her nude body around mine, and with each thrust, her eyes rolled harder. “I love you,” Tara said. She kept saying I love you to make up for all the times she said she hated me.
(Dusting off Dreams currently #12 out of 167k in poem)