… OK. Here’s how yesterday went:


Ok, I’m off to work. See you tonight. You better have supper on the table when I get home!


What?!?! I wouldn’t see you tonight

(high-pitched squeal)

Are you going to leave without hugging me goodbye?!?!?!

Jessica fled back to New York yesterday. I came home for lunch at 11 a.m. and the apartment was empty. All the boxes Jessica had been packing and stacking in the living for the last two weeks were gone. I walked down the hall to her room. I stood in the doorway and stared into the empty room. I remember standing in the exact same place when we moved in, trying to take a picture of a sweaty Jessica as she painted her room pink and brown. We need to document this occasion, I said. NOOOOOOOOO! She was pissed, I mean totally pissed. Why would I want a picture of her like that? I took one anyway.

I walked across Jessica’s empty room. I opened the drawers on her build-in desk and remembered the sound her make-up brushes made when she dropped them into the plastic tray and the fizz of hairspray being released from a can. I opened her closet doors and looked inside. A few hangers left but nothing else. Empty. Gone. I turned and walked out of the room. I thought about closing the door, about shutting that room up until I moved out. But I left it open, the cool breeze drifting into the room.

I walked down the hall and made myself lunch.