He didn’t want the coat as we were standing in Macy’s. We were there for business casual after all for his training weeks in Texas. A coat wasn’t on the shopping list. Luckily I was there to break it down for him. “It’s grey. It’s plaid. And it’s form fitting.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need a coat in Texas.”
He was divinely blessed in that moment to have me there to explain the situation. “A happy marriage is dependent on this coat Tyler Wayne. Try it on.” No buts.
It was pure magic, that coat.
Transformed him into the sexy hunter I knew him to be- he was getting the coat if it was the last thing I did. And he did. I did. We did. We marched out that unsettling white blinding store with a buffet of mediocre business casual clothing that did nothing for my chacha and one incredible, magical sexy coat for a real Man not afraid of growing gruff or serving heart shaped pancakes for a rainy Sunday morning. That coat was a whole new level.
And I hated myself for it when he was sitting there wearing that damn coat while we parted ways again.
He looked perfect.
Well. As perfect as he could be in my blurred teary vision. Saying goodbye was never easy for me, but I was hitting my breaking point as we sat in the ferry terminal counting down the minutes until his cab for the airport was there. Two nights wasn’t enough.
Coat or not, he didn’t have a chance of leaving that terminal without me coming a bit undone. Hungry…on the edge of real physical starvation that comes towards the end of a forty day fast. Emotional x1000 (aka, period). And terrified and shaking over my road trip to Vancouver/Portland later that day to tie loose ends with our property. It was my first time driving in seven months- and the car wasn’t working until the day before.
I needed my husband to stay.
But he wanted to take care of me by going. Finishing his training so we can move forward and start building a life beyond what the college years could afford us. Tomorrow, I’ll be thankful for that, but right now my bed feels cold and empty.
I’ve never seen him walk away from me. Drive away from me. Fly away from me. He tells me to leave first so I don’t have to see that. And thank goodness, because seeing him in that coat walking away would have destroyed my raging crush on this man I’ve known since I was six. He's sensitive to that.
It didn’t stop me from bawling my head off as I walked away- right there on dock 52, waiting for the ferry to wash ashore and float me back to our island. I found my secluded spot once I boarded, looking out over a grey wash Sound, and sipped my water between sniffles and hiccups. I traced the bracelet he gave me, a gold change with a small dream catcher, "so you can sleep anywhere." I wanted to sleep right there, between the waves and take a break from emptiness. He, gone. Tummy, hungry. Home, bare.
With a pen to define, and only a planner left in my purse, I scripted, “God, this better be the last f’ing time.”
I think the definition of ‘last time’ is still pending. Last time spending extended time apart? Having our lives filled with endless details that never match up in our favor? Last time fasting? Last time feeling like I’m required to give up everything for nothing in return? What I do know, however, is that I haven’t gotten to spend much time with this man I’ve known almost my entire life….and I’m done with that. I thought marriage would keep him close by, but I suppose the universe had different plans.
I also feel done with this fast. I’m quite literally starving and it makes me want to punch anyone who says they are too when I just watched them eat a few hours prior. I know it’s semantics….but is it really?
I have 4 more days to burn out with water, tears, and snot before I can weave some salads to break fast. and in perfect timing, as he seems to be a devout follower of, Tyler said his plane will be in at 11pm in four days.
Food & husband. A hot meal, and a warm bed, and a sense of belonging that I didn't realize he brought.
I feel a feast coming.
with a physical nature.
especially if he gets off that plane in that coat.