That bouquet left my hand with the typical comic book "swoosh" and landed with a very gentle "thud" before skidding across the gravel in the driveway. My arms went up in frustration and I stomped back to my step where the neighbours were waiting for me. I was met with the obligitory "are you okay?" and I just shook my head. I couldn't tell you if it was up and down or side to side but it was shaking.
The situation is comical to me now and I wish I could've seen myself but at the time I was so mad. My brain was swirling in a fit of "how dare you!" and ... well, that was about it. It would be so liberating to just blabber it all out here but I really don't want to. We'll just say that Big Cranky (the ex) came by with flowers, presumably from the kids for Mother's Day but a slight, quick conversation happened that ended in a way that made me feel as though I still had a special place, that I still had a piece of his heart in some weird way. It was nice to know that I was still cared about and thought about. A couple of weeks earlier I was shown something else by him and told a little story that made me think that all those years weren't in vain after all and that we both still held onto the good memories.
No so much.
I walked outside with him thinking I was walking him to his car, flowers in hand, smelling them and smiling, feeling special and like I was still an important part of his life aside from being the mother of his children. When I looked up, there she was. The Icky Pixie. Smiling at me in that too-young-to-understand coy "I've got your man bitch" kind of smile. He knows that after the name-calling, the midnight hang-ups and the emails of the two of them together from her and her friends, that I didn't want her around. I didn't want to see her, meet her, know her. Not yet, I'm not ready. Don't get me wrong, I don't want him back but seeing the girl who was (from what I am told and don't know if it's true) sleeping with my fiance while I was pregnant with his son, hurt like a sonofabitch. Even if it's not true and he didn't cheat, I find it odd that they were together in a serious relationship only a week after I left ... fishy fishy.
Insert Alanis Morrisette here: It was a slap in the face, how quickly I was replaced ...
I'm standing there feeling ambushed by reality. My own little world crumbled and my newly found confidence dwindled away. My self-control supply depleted and I gripped those flowers to keep from screaming. I looked at my neighbour and she looked at me, we were both thinking the same thing and I turned on my heel, ran my chubby ass to that driveway as they were pulling out and swwwwoooossshh. It was slow motion, watching those flowers fly through the air and plop on the gravel. Oddly enough, I watched the bouquet and not their reaction. I can see them flying, petals falling off and floating to the ground below them. Beautiful at first and then falling apart, much like our relationship had been. That analogy is almost ironic isn't it ...
Maybe I would've been less angry if it was any other day and the visit was for any other reason. Maybe it would have been easier if I knew what I was going to see. Maybe I would have reacted better if I had been given the chance to decide when my first glimpse of her would be. If I had known she was there that day I would have declined the visit until another time, when I could gather myself and be a little bit more open to the idea of meeting. In any case, showing up like that, saying what he said to me and doing what he did only to have her in that car waiting was inappropiate at best. That kind of surprise would only lead to an emotionally charged situation and I honestly don't know what either one of them were thinking.
Now that I think about it ... they're lucky I still had enough self-control that I didn't pick up a rock. But let me tell you, I have my biffin' arm all warmed up and I'm ready for the big Flower Chucking Competition. And, in an odd sense, I feel relieved. The flowers are in the dumpster and it felt good to put them there, watching them fall apart as I dropped them in felt like letting go. Sometimes getting that proverbial kick in the teeth makes you realize that being alone isn't all that bad, makes you take stock in yourself (again) and realize that rebuilding your life on your own can be an amazing journey. We all do stupid things like chucking flowers but in all honesty, I don't think I was throwing them at the Crank and the Pixie, I was throwing them at my own hurt and the situation as a whole.
With that said, I'm off and running to clean my house. Smile on my face and a skip in my step. Will I throw flowers again? Only if it feels as good as the last time ...
