Plan B

Business lunch. Discussing different directions. Picking up pieces. Boss already pursuing Plan B. Bad news from last week already leveling off. Customer request increased from four in April to 8 to 10. Week in April might still need me. Bookstore fate unknown but haul of 96 from Hilton Head to enter soon. No immediate plan in case of KY trip other than week vacation setting. A month up there would be helpful. Kept the thought in the back of my mind if things went wrong and I needed to get away for a while. Bookstore I want to keep if I can. Reasons.

They wanted barbecue. Home Team or Swig n Swine. I wanted Home Team because it had only been 8 hours, and the only Valentine’s Day I’d ever enjoyed just wasn’t that long ago either. Left it to chance, and of course I ended up staring where we sat that night. Another day after a blow up where we were in limbo. I didn’t care. One of those stupid holidays came and I had anyone, let aloe her, no friend zone was going to hold me.

Corner of the warehouse was cold. Had never used the term ‘filled with emptiness’ but no other terms would suffice. Seven books to go out. Her Google page still logged in. Logged out instantly. Not my stuff. Signed in as myself. Dolphin wallpaper still there. Wasn’t going anywhere. Just books. Shelves. Envelopes. A message of someone claiming their book never arrived. A response of the tracking info showing it was picked up at a Mississippi post office. Nothing I hadn’t been doing for a year. Cold though. Not cold, just… cold. A warm cold. Her hands had placed them there. Looking over each with care. Held each of the seven she’d entered and there was a warmth in the cold. Not warm, but… warm.

First wave hit hard. Folded in as needed. Nothing I haven’t gone through before. Waves ebbed and flowed. Sadness. Hope. Anger. Warmth. Cold. Frustration.

Placed call to resolve issue with vendor that had me frustrated the day before that set me up for my side of the blame. Took eight minutes. Eight. Eight minutes of patience might have kept me more calm last night. Add blame to frustration. Anger rippled across all day. Anger at her. It bounced off, just as her daggers did upon the new armored heart last night. Like shells splintering on a battleship’s hull, shattering with fragments flying off towards their true enemies, those who made the hull so damned thick over so many years.

I have not held her hands for the last time.

God, please give us wisdom, grace, strength, but most of all… time. For whatever purpose we are meant to have in each other’s life.

And thanks for the cats.