A Ghostly Lie

I sat staring at the divorce papers sprawled out on the table in front of me. What a mess we’ve created.

“This is going to take a while,” I swallowed, the past 10 years fighting to come back up my throat all at once.

“It’s for the better,” he promised, inching forward to grab my hand, but I pulled away, biting back words I wished to scream out, and it felt like every wall around me was caving in.

I knew this is what I wanted. A fresh start, a new life. After Joan’s affair I couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore, like the man I loved had died right in front of me. I just couldn't shake the feeling, the way he looked and trembled while he admitted his fault, but all I could think about was how glossy his beautiful brown eyes were all the same as the day I said “I do.” Like all he ever saw was love. I’d never seen the other woman, and maybe that was for the better. I tried stalking every social media he had and every girl he followed for days, surviving off 2 hours of sleep and microwaved meals, but I was never successful. I didn’t want to know, but something in my soul would ache to see what she had that I didn’t.

Five days later I asked for the divorce. He mustered up the papers as if he’s been waiting for me to initiate it.

“Is this what you wanted all along?” I choked. “Why torture me forever if this was how we were supposed to end? Was it just a lie?”

“It was never a lie,” he answered so fast I barely finished my last breath. “I’d never lie to you, Mia, you know that. I’m doing this for you. You need to go, live your life, start over,” I saw him slowly pick up the pen and scribble his signature down. “I won’t ever stop thinking about you.”

That was the last day I saw him. It’s been almost a year, and I’d like to think I’m doing better now. The house still feels empty now though, like a piece was taken away forever and I just couldn't shake it. There's still pictures lying around of us, like the ghost of a memory is hidden in my shadow forever. Impatiently, I tapped my foot against the mahogany floor waiting for Liana to finish dressing.

“We’re going to be late,” I warned.

“Oh, calm down,” she whined from upstairs, but I could hear her smile creeping in. “I know how to drive.”

I hadn’t been to a party in years, and I hadn’t seen myself dressed this nicely since Joan. I wore a skin-tight burgundy dress that hugged me, yet fit just right as to not to fully show the weight I’d lost the past few months. My hair was clipped back neatly and I had to re-teach myself how to do makeup, but for the first time in a long time I felt good. The pressing consternation as to where I went wrong and what was wrong with me finally settled down into a state of peace. While I waited for her, I ran out to the mailbox to grab yesterday’s mail I forgot about. Shuffling through stacks of bills and spam, one particular letter caught my eye. It was addressed to Mia Bentley, my name before I’d gotten divorced, and had no mailing address. Weird, I thought, but assumed it was a family member who’d never heard the news, or maybe a letter that had gotten lost way before. My finger slipped under the fold to open it when Liana appeared on my porch in her fancy Mac Dugal dress.

“You look beautiful,” she said, pulling my hand into the car with her. “You ready? We’ll have a great time.”

The envelope fell out of my hand and onto the steps with the rest of them while I pushed it to the back of my mind and left for the night.

Yet, it lingered around me like a sour aroma throughout the entire party. Every drink was so potently poisonous I couldn’t really focus on the evening anymore.

“Letsss go Miaaa,” wailed an old friend I’d lost long ago. He was drunk now.

“I’m not a dancer,” I remarked, but he insisted and took my arm anyway, yanking me into the infinite void of the dance floor.

Nothing felt right that night no matter how hard I tried. Every love song was like another boulder crushing into my chest. I didn’t understand why I felt so wrong when I was doing so okay. Even the cold arms of the man I was dancing with felt wrong, everything felt like I was falling further down a hole. It wasn’t right.

And then the song had changed and Joan’s favorite song filled my ears, and with that tears filled my eyes. I looked at Liana through the shoulder gap between me and my old friend Christan.

“I need to leave.”

Solemn and heavy, my footsteps carried me towards the front door of a house filled with everlong purgatory and a constant reminder of what was. I swiftly picked up the pile of envelopes, tossing them onto my kitchen table while removing my heels and jewelry. Then I remembered the mysteriously nameless letter. I didn’t feel like looking at bills I needed to pay or seeing anything from anyone for that matter, but curiosity killed the cat. I sat down on my couch, feeling the chill of the leather cushion against my exposed thighs, and gently tore it open.

My lovely Mia,

I need you to know this before I go. The guilt has eaten me alive, but I wish whoever I hand this letter to is able to get it to you when I’m gone. So if you see this, my cancer won. I’m sorry I never told you, you weren’t supposed to see me like this. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself without letting you know the lies I told you, so here it is. This is my apology, and this is my last chance to tell you that I love you. I will always love you. Thank you for everything.

There was never an affair.

Sincerely,

Joan