Tuesday, May. 05, 2020 @ 10:07 am
The Ring
I look at an old photo of him, and my eyes flash to his hand, poised above the jagged carved opening of a Jack-o-lantern. Is that a wedding band?
Heart racing, I take a moment to count across his hand to his ring finger. The same hand, the same fingers that touch me gently and carefully and lovingly. I double check the orientation of the photo and determine that the ring is on his left hand. He is wearing a wedding ring.
I emotionally collapse, triggered into the harrowing place inside of me that is dark and shaky. I am a teenager standing on the edge of the football field, and the popular girl just told me to go away.
He never told me that he was married.
I am angry. I feel betrayed. A lie of omission.
I kneel on the floor and press my forehead into the gritty hardwood.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Everything hurts.
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