What Happened to Eden

By the end of the weekend, The Cop found me perched on the kitchen counter. He thought I was trying to be sexy, but I was using the cold granite as an ice pack. Our chemistry remained intact until the moment he left. It had gone better than I’d expected, and my house was no longer just the House of Lies. Other memorable things had happened there now, and I could move forward worrying slightly less about the future. Even if he never talked to me again, I knew it was at least possible to have good sex after getting divorced.

Every interaction with my husband was stilted and bitter. He had the balls to be mad at me about all kinds of shit when I had just found out he’d been having an affair. If I were in his shoes, which I never ever would have been, I would have the decency to give my jilted spouse whatever the fuck they wanted as an apology for my abhorrent behavior. Instead, we were back to blaming me. And Covid – can’t forget that.

Covid was so hard on him. I wanted him to be present for his family on major holidays and not on his phone. I asked him to please try not to fall in love with other women. And all that drove him to cheat. I was the monster. Whenever I’d try to work through details of our split with him, he’d threaten to trap us all in the city we hated just for spite. He suggested I would disappear and never let him see his children – you know, because, of the two of us, I had a problem with the truth.

Everyday I got angrier. Why couldn’t he just lie and say he was sorry? Just tell me he was sorry he hurt me, even if he wasn’t sorry he did it? Who the hell was this sociopath without empathy? Lie and say you’re sorry because it’s the right thing to do. If you’re going to be a liar, use some of your evil for good.

Our lawyers were threatening each other and an ugly court battle looked likely. He wouldn’t negotiate at all because he knew I wanted to leave town more than anything else, so nothing I suggested was even considered unless I promised not to leave. When my lawyer called and informed me her rate would double if we didn’t work something out by the end of the day, I broke down and called my husband from the school pickup line.

“Tell me what it is you want. What will you agree to? I can’t stand to be married to you another second. I can’t sleep in the bed where she slept anymore. What will it take to let us leave?”

It was ridiculous. I could have taken him to court and taken all kinds of shit from him because he was a cheater and we’d been married an eternity. It would take months, and I wanted it to be over. We stated our terms and signed on the dotted line.

The Voice called to check in and give me a good-natured hard time about cancelling our date to go out with a cop. He said my voice sounded different – I sounded happy and bubbly – and I told him I’d submitted my paperwork to the court and we were essentially divorced minus the waiting period. We talked while I packed, and then the doorbell rang.

On my porch was a massive bouquet of flowers. The Voice said “of course they’re from The Cop, right? He’s a smooth operator, that guy.” I wasn’t expecting anything from anyone, so I hauled the vase inside and searched for a card. They were indeed from The Cop, to commemorate the day and celebrate my bright future.

The Voice decided to exit stage left with grace and humility. He suggested I call and thank The Cop, and he hoped we could still meet for a drink when I moved to town. He wasn’t looking for anything serious, but he did want to meet me in person since we’d gotten so close over the phone the last few weeks, so he said he’d give me time to think. I didn’t really need time, I wasn’t interested in being exclusive with anyone and wanted to see if our in person chemistry was as good as our phone chemistry, but he was right – I needed to call The Cop and thank him.

I bought my own flowers most of my life. They made smile whenever I saw them, but I rarely got a bouquet for any occasion. The Cop remembered the day I would be submitting my paperwork and had the foresight to send an embarrassingly large vase of roses without saying a thing. I was stunned.

Maybe nice people did exist.