Thursday, August 05, 2004

Part Seven: Short Trips (short post)

Eric and I took Friday off work and drove up to Mendocino County. It was a fantastic ride up the coast. The weather was perfect and we laughed at nearly everything; I can’t remember much of the drive up, but I have these still-shots in my head from the drive and just remember it as being full of joy.

One of the things I do remember talking about was the baby. It was clear by this point that I had beat the odds. I was actually going to have a baby! We discussed her in great detail—her hair (red & curly), her eye color (blue, like both our fathers), her eye shape (Eric’s; he has very sexy eyes), whose lips she would have.... Everything. We didn’t even know if it was a girl, we just assumed. When I was 11 years old, I decided that I would grow up and have a little girl with curly red hair and her name would be Emily Antoinette. It never occurred to me that it might be otherwise.

The weekend was utterly enchanting. Like no “lovers weekend” I’ve ever had before or since. Like it ought to be. Like the movies. Walking all over this darling little town, window shopping together (yeah, he loves to window shop!), fabulous candlelit dinners on the deck, hours-long love-making sessions, interspersed with giggles and tickles and baths and backrubs. Absolutely magical. The last night we were there, the day before my birthday, he gave me my present: Two tickets to see my favorite band at a very small venue in August. Wow!

The next morning we headed for home. The closer we got, the quieter he got, until he was completely withdrawn. Completely unreachable. I didn’t want to go back home either; the tension in the house was undeniably killing us, but I also didn’t wholly understand what was happening in Eric’s head. After we got home, he told me.

He said he couldn’t do this anymore.

It’s been four years and I still can’t tell it without crying.

On my birthday, after the most wonderful weekend of my adult life, he broke my heart.

The next day, he moved out.

Damn it. Sorry. I’ll have to finish this later.