Space (noun) continuous area or expanse that is free, available, or unoccupied.

School started with bright blue September skies and sharp winds that captured the first fallen leaves, whipping them into tight circular patterns across the ground. I would watch the leaves dance as I drove to work that first week, thinking about him constantly, missing him with a throbbing ache. I’d drive to work in silence; no radio, no sound, just the company of my thoughts that swirled endlessly in my head like the leaves I drove through. Tears would sneak up on me during those drives, spilling down my face, dripping down my chin … I wouldn’t even bother to wipe them anymore. They were constant, and I could only let them escape in the privacy of my car. Because, the moment I would pull in to the parking lot at school, it was showtime, and Shannon the Great “Everything is Fine” Champion of the World would get out of her car with her big smile, a spritz of perfume, and the most cheerful and sparkling presentation you’ve even seen. Special needs children require close attention and endless creativity, and also, they require love and patience. I had to be on my game, and I was. Nobody knew my heart was wadded up in the corner of my bedroom, with barely a pulse. I was proud of my deception. I really was.

Thursday night, 17 days after he left me over text, I was standing over the sink, washing dishes. The t.v. was on, providing the background noise I needed to give me something else to think about other than him. Then, as unexpectedly as anything had ever been, from behind me I heard the crisp bright strum of a harp. I stopped cold, eyes forward, my stomach launched up into my throat where it took my breath away. That was his him. That harp was his text tone that I hadn’t heard in what felt like months, and the visceral reaction to hearing it would become my Pavlovian response to him, from then on, to this day.

With my heart thumping, I picked up the towel next to the sink to dry my hands, still looking straight ahead. I dried my hands, breathing through my nose, an absolute bundle of nervous anxiety. I had never reacted like this with him before. I took a deep breath and blew it out my mouth as I picked up the phone and swiped it open. “I hope you’re ok”, he texted. With shaking hands, I answered, “After 3 years together, I wasn’t even worth the respect of being dumped face to face. You dumped me over a hurried text you crammed into your busy day. Then you promised to call me and you didn’t. 3 years together, family holidays, ten million memories and I don’t even deserve to hear your voice tell me you don’t want me anymore.” My jaw was set, as I walked into my bedroom, feeling triumphant at my sudden bravado.  But with every step I took, I dissolved back into the broken and hurt woman who looked at her phone every day and all day, waiting for him to reach out. I sat on the end of my bed, hands folded in my lap, head hanging, emotionally spent. The harp strummed again. “I know. I can come over tonight, if that’s ok. We can talk if you want. I owe you that much.” “Yeah, you do,” I murmured out loud. I answered back, “Ok, you can come over.” “Alright, I’ll be there in less than an hour.” I stood up and closed my eyes, holding my phone against my forehead, feeling the butterflies banging into each other, swarming throughout my chest. I get to see him. … I get to see him! Sudden realization that he was coming over made me so excited that I was actually bubbling over. I was so sure this nightmare was over and I just knew he was going to tell me he lost his mind for a while, that’s all, and that he’s back. I pulled a brush through my blonde hair a few times, put on a sexy top that I knew he liked and fixed my make up. I went to the kitchen and began making a snack platter for him, because he really liked those; and I made a pretty glass pitcher of iced tea, because it was his favorite, and then I lit a few vanilla candles to make my house warm and cozy. I wanted everything to be perfect. I quartered a lemon and slipped a wedge on the edge of his glass, laying a long handled spoon on a napkin beside the pitcher. Beautiful. He loved when I make things special for him. The minutes melted away and before I knew it, I saw headlights through the curtains. He’s here.

A few moments later, the door opened and he walked in. He looked taller and broader and more beautiful than I had ever remembered him. He was never more wanted than he was at the moment and I thought my heart would burst right then and there. After he closed the door, I walked to the center of the living room, my fingers laced together against my chest. “Hi,” I whispered … but he made no move to greet me. He stood by the door, without moving, and without looking at me. We stood there, motionless and silent, in the same room but with a thousand miles between us. When he finally lifted his blue eyes to look at me, I understood that this wasn’t a reunion. He came to say goodbye.

To be continued …