I told my dad today. I rehearsed what I’d say in the shower this morning. He would ask, “Why? What’s wrong?” And I would say, “Cautionary Husband and I didn’t have a strong intimate connection before we got married, and in the years since then we’ve drifted. I realized that I don’t want to live that way, and we began counseling in May to try to establish intimacy. Since then it’s become clear that with all the hurt and anger built up, the best way we can do that is by living separately.”
As I got ready, I noticed in the floor-length mirror that my legs look old. The skin directly above the knees appears to be sagging. Aren’t the legs supposed to be the last thing to go?
At lunch with Dad and his ladyfriend I waited until the bill came and said, “I need to tell you both that CH and I are separating.” My dad said something like, “Well, why would you do that?” And I sputtered and said that we’re going to keep working on our marriage, but the best way we can do that is by not living together. I guess I wasn’t really up for giving any sort of explanation, though they probably deserved it. I asked my dad if he was freaked out, because he was acting freaked out, his eyes darting around, fumbling with his credit card and wallet. He said no. His ladyfriend said that she was sorry and that both she and my dad have been through it. My dad said whatever makes me happy, and that they still love me. I said, well, I should hope that they do.
He thought the marriage was a mistake, and I guess now he thinks the separation is a mistake.
I began moving today. Using one box, I packed all my books into the trunk of my car, and then I moved them all into my apartment. They’re on the floor there now, in two huge separate piles on either side of the archway that leads to the tiny breakfast nook. I took pictures of them in the trunk of my car and then in the two piles in the apartment.
CH told his parents today too. He said his mom said something about how he needs to go to church in reply.
CH has said our relationship is like a puzzle that we’re trying to put together upside down, so we can’t tell what it’s supposed to look like. Today he said that we can’t seem to find the border pieces so we keep working on separate clusters of the middle part. I said that we should buy a puzzle and put it together tonight, listening to music and drinking wine. We’ll do it on the floor of his new apartment. It’s carpeted. We’re not used to laying on the floor. Funny, when carpet feels like a sort of luxury.