The Stunted Pine

Sometimes I drive past (y)our house–the one I had abandoned to save my life–and see that the trees we’d planted together as saplings continue to thrive. All but the pine Nicole had brought home from school; it lives, but only measures four feet–strange for a tree more than ten years old.

The stunted pine–a proper symbol of our relationship. Or maybe a symbol of you, alone. You are unable to maintain relationships. You’ve let a couple of good ones go, and that’s saying a lot, I think, coming from me. But, those women are better off; and I’m thankful they got out a lot sooner than I had, because I know the real strength of your poison. Our years together total what? Fourteen? For awhile it bothered me to divorce you after nine years of marriage. Because odd numbers make me uncomfortable. OCD is a bitch. But not as big a bitch as calling you my husband.

That fucking house. I know I’d pushed you into buying it, but I did so believing you’d update the motherfucker. Fuel oil heat, and propane stove. Without fail, the propane ran out in the middle of cooking a dinner you wouldn’t even show up for in the first fucking place because you had beer drinking to do after work. But I had to feed our daughter, didn’t I? Changing tanks wasn’t difficult, just a minor inconvenience. Until winter. Out in the country, snow drifts made it nearly impossible for me to maneuver a dolly weighed down with a twenty pound tank. Nearly impossible. I did manage to change the damned things in knee deep snow, even if the process took a goddamned hour in the dark–because I was a tough ass bitch, pre-Fibromyalgia onset. Do you have any idea how pissed off I was, driving past your house after our separation, to see that you had finally gotten a fucking proper propane pig installed?

You’re a selfish man.  Do you know that when you asked your (then) school-aged daughter to give up her bedroom at your house so that your girlfriend’s daughters could have their own rooms was the equivalent of kicking her out? Do you know she cried? But Nicole loved your girlfriend, and her daughters. Nicole was happy you were moving on with with your life. But now your house is empty because you don’t know how to treat people. You drove that lovely woman and her girls away with your honesty.

Your honesty is cold. You make people feel less than you. Like you’re so fucking superior! Look now. See where your superiority has gotten you. Alone.

You’re all alone. Stunted. And goddamn it, I feel sorry for you. Because I have a heart.