Stars Fell, Love Faded
Three years married, but Jake hadn’t officially made me his wife. Today was his thousandth successful flight milestone, and, get this, it was supposed to be the seventeenth time he
promised to get our marriage license. But at the celebration party, while his boss was practically force–feeding me drinks, he was over there, all lovey–dovey, sharing food and shots with his student pilot, Tiffany.
I was running a fever, practically passed out from drinking, and Jake didn’t even glance my way. Most of the people from work were giving me those pitying looks. Anyone could see that I was knocking back the drinks for him, but he didn’t seem to care.
And when the party wrapped up, Jake, who was supposed to be taking me straight to the courthouse, bailed again. He pulled the car up to the restaurant entrance and, hand up like a
stop sign, blocked me from getting in.
“Tiffany had too much to drink, I need to drive
く
her home. You can get a Lyft, right?” he said.
“We’ll have to do the license thing another day.”
He didn’t even wait for my reaction before
rushing out to help her into the passenger seat.
Eight years of dating, three years of being
married
—
this was the seventeenth time Tiffany
had derailed our license plans. Usually, by now,
I’d be a sobbing mess, screaming at him: Who’s
his wife? Who was just chugging drinks for
him?
But this time, I just smiled softly. “Okay, drive
safe.”
Jake looked surprised, a little thrown by my
calm. But the shock faded fast, replaced by
that cold, detached expression. “I’ll get you
something tonight to make up for it,” he said,
before hurrying off. He even made sure to close
her window, so she wouldn’t catch a chill.
It used to be, Jake hated any lingering smell of
alcohol in his car. After I’d drink for him, he’d
roll down the windows, even in the dead of
winter. But of course that only mattered when I
was in the car.
<
The midday heat of Phoenix was making me
sweat like crazy, but inside, I felt like an ice
cube. I took a deep breath and put my ID and
birth certificate back in my bag. I knew, it was
time to finally let go of those eight years.
