I realized that even if things were ever to go back to normal with me and Eric, I was gonna need some distance. I knew I had to get away. I decided to go home.
I guess that is the usual thing to do -- go home after your marriage falls apart. But I didn't have time to worry about being clichˇ. I was in pain and I needed familiarity. Greg was going through so much lately, he was hardly what someone would call "dependable." I'd gotten time off work. John Daniel, my boss saw what I was going through and understood completely. In fact, he insisted I take a week and just "go away."
So, I had bought a ticket home to Atlanta. Who knows? Maybe a week by the pool at Mom and Dad's would bring some closure to this whole horrible mess. I called my sister Cynthia since we were always the closest. She still lived in Atlanta and of course, was thrilled I was coming home for a visit.
"How's your fabulous husband?" she asked and I fell apart.
"Drew, come home. You can stay with Derek and me. Your nephews are dyin' to see you, darlin' and you an' me'll stay up late and get drunk. Drew, don't say another word, my brother. I can feel what you're goin' through and you don't need to explain. Jus' come home, darlin'. No more, get on a plane and be here!"
It's so strange. People can be mean to you, they can be mistrustful, they can lie and cheat and steal-- and somehow you're all right. But the second someone is nice to you... you fall apart. I heard my sister's voice and I lost it. I realized how hurt I was by what had happened, I realized how much I'd been trying to be strong lately... and I couldn't speak.
I agreed that I would come home. Cynthia even bought my ticket, said it was waiting at the airport.
So, I started to pack.
The bell rang.
It was UPS.
A package.
God. A package. I thought I'd never again be able to receive a package without thinking it was from... "him."
I signed for it as the phone rang. It was Mark.
"Hey, it's me -- did you get my present?"
I froze -- was Eric right? Was this package from Mark the same thing as the stalker? I stared at the box, but the address was typed, not handwritten....
"Uh, yeah. Mark, I can't talk right now..."
"Open it!" and he hung up.
I did...I had to.
It was -- it was a bathing suit -- a pair of my Speedos from Atlanta U. God, where did he find these? And a note under them, that read:
