I cried as I drove home but again for me
for my emotions, not Elliot. Safely in bed relief swept me, pleased it was over,
my life simplified again. It occurred to me maybe I loved no one but myself. It
didn’t matter. Sleep took me and in the morning I awoke refreshed to start anew
the rest of my life, pleased its first day included picking up hubby at the
airport, a man I did admire.
Elliot called only once, a month later to ask if he should bring by my things from the apartment or if I wanted to get them. I told him give them to the Salvation Army. We kept no contact but eventually at my husband's request I dined at the cottage restaurant. The hens were happy and clucked and cooed while taking our orders. When the bill came the waitress handed me an inflated Salvation Army deposit receipt for $1,000, never filed with IRS.
He had observed us afar during our meal.
I never went back but my ears perked up whenever others talked about him.
Years later my daughter-in-law went to the golf course with a girlfriend.
they told me about an old guy who wanted to give them golf lessons, a guy who
got too close telling them how to hold the club, a space invader. He never
married, kept his privileged life of dissipation, professor golf to the end,
his life laps on a golf course with nothing to admire.
I’m sure many trophies were added to his upstairs pad but mine’s not there.
Passing the apartment I always looked up. One day the Venetian blinds were gone, replaced by pull down shades. I accepted my secret place for people watching was gone then wondered if someone was there eying me and quickly moved on.
The couple of times we met by
accident. We pretended not to see one another. The last time I saw him, two
years ago, I was shocked how old he appeared and expect he was shocked seeing