Conversations 02 - Two Halves

I watched that same beat-up pick-up drive into the lot. My handsome husband exited his truck and entered the building. I waited a few more minutes so he would be well-settled into a booth and waiting for his order before I confronted him.

My mission was simple, do whatever it took to get my family back. As I marched through the door. I could see him across the diner in a booth by the big bay window, totally engrossed in his phone. He never saw me approach until I was sliding into the seat across from him.

Looking up, I could see the surprise and fear in his face as he recognized me.

"Oh, uh, July! What are you doing here?"

"I've come for my husband. I'd have been here sooner, but you were tough to find."

"Not tough enough, apparently." He sat there looking at me, then a smile broke out across his face. "It's so good to see you baby. You look as beautiful as always."

"And you dear husband haven't changed a bit," I looked away from him for a second, turning back to him I saw Kathryn sitting there next to him, "Oh Kathryn, where did you come from?"

I smiled at my husband, "Are you ready to come home?"

I heard a baby crying; somewhere in the diner a kid was crying loudly, interrupting my reunion with the only man I've ever truly loved.

"Yes..."

I startled wide awake. A cold sweat glazed my sleeping form. The insistent crying was real, and it was coming from down the hall. I slid out of bed, careful to not disturb the sleeping man lying next to me. I made my way into the baby's room and picked up our five-month-old baby boy, bouncing him in a soothing rhythm. I started to rock him and walked him out of his room and down the hall, stopping along the way to check on his big sister. She was sleeping peacefully, swaddled in her bed.

We made a quick stop to close the master bedroom door and watched Daddy sleep for a moment. My son quieted down as I closed the door and continued into the den. We made this trip several times a week. He was growing again, and the pains often woke him late at night.

I rested against the couch's armrest. My son lay across my chest so he could snuggle into my bosom and sleep. I grabbed my iPad, opened Facebook and I clicked on the search bar. Victoria (Byrd) Keye was the first name on the list. It should be, I've searched for her profile many times in the past. Opening her page once again, I saw she had added a new picture. There she was with her two little boys smiling at the camera. Next to her was Allen's smiling face and a rambunctious Kathryn hanging from his neck, just barely able to see over her daddy's shoulder.

I was looking at a happy family. Victoria's text wished her amazing husband and partner a happy third anniversary. She touted all his attributes and proclaimed him to be both the best husband and the hero that saved her life during the darkest period that she had ever experienced.

I've stalked Victoria's profile enough to know the story after my PI discovered that Allen had remarried and to whom. Victoria's first husband passed away from a genetic heart condition at the age of thirty, leaving her with two small boys. A single father who worked at her uncle's machine shop spent a lot of time with her and guided her through a grieving process he was doubly familiar with. He was grieving both the death of his first wife and the loss of his second marriage. Somewhere along the line, they fell in love and married a year later.

A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek as my chest heaved, threatening to wake my little boy. I certainly didn't want him to wake his daddy, Luca, sleeping in our room. I remembered how devastated I was when Allen and Kathryn left, and how I fought the divorce until I found out I was pregnant. I wasn't willing to abort my baby and reluctantly let my family go. Evidently, my last tryst with Luca left me with a parting gift. She's four now and soundly sleeping in her room.

Luca offered to marry me after my divorce was final. Afraid of being alone and not knowing what to do with a newborn, I accepted his offer. That was just under five years ago. Knowing my Allen would never be coming back, I made the best of a bad situation. I've been locked in a revolving nightmare ever since, unable to find a way to escape. I just keep getting in deeper. The latest anchor was drooling on my tits.

I remembered what Allen had said, "We only get one or two big loves in our lives." Looks like he has gotten more than his share.

I was only granted one. I miss him every minute of every day.