1995. Nearly a century ago. I was married, and figuring that the end was near. The wife had already “forgotten” my birthday in October, and I was half-heartedly shopping for a Christmas gift that would ultimately disappoint her.
I can’t recall what I bought - doesn’t matter, really - but I do remember what she had for me. It is forever etched in my memory, unlike so many other Christmas gifts past.
Our tradition (such as it was) was to open gifts on Christmas Eve, supposedly to save us the fuss of the Christmas morning ritual, I don’t know, really. We had a tree. A real one, because she insisted, so OK, we went out and I cut down a tree. The reward was pine needles in our living room. That is beside the point.
Whatever I had gotten for her was brought out. I suspect it was a sweater or some other conservative, concealing article of clothing. I wouldn’t dare buy her anything suggestive like a negligee or anything from Victoria’s Secret. She had her own secret, which would become obvious as the years passed. But, that is beside the point.
Under my portion of the tree were four boxes, each identically shaped and sized. My suspicion turned-out to be realized - that they were four boxes of alcohol. Two bottles of vodka, a bottle of rum, and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Truth be known, she would have been better-off with four bottles of vodka. Puzzled, I thanked her (in my way) and went about my business.
Less than a week later, I was on my way home and I could see from the road that the light was on in our condo. Customarily, she would stop at her mother’s house after work, so seeing her at home before six was odd. Nevertheless, I proceeded to my regular gym routine, not really thinking much of the light. At around six-thirty, I got home, and the lights were out. Hmm. That’s strange, right?
When you are accustomed to a certain environment, you know that something is wrong the second you walk in. I could see through to our back room, and noticed that a framed photo that was on the wall was no longer there. Immediately, I noticed that several other things were not “as usual.” After looking around a little, I saw a note on the bedroom dresser:
I know that I will never be able to fill your needs. Take care of the cat, He is very special. - Robin
So there it was. Perhaps the most cowardly way to exit. Obviously, she had faked going to work, and had instead spent the day packing-up and moving - bit by bit - back to her parents’ house. It must have taken at least until six o’clock, and I always wondered what would have happened if I had trusted my instincts and, instead of doing the gym thing, I had turned around and just went home. Spilled milk.
Back to the four bottles of alcohol. As we agreed, in order for her to agree to return, I would attend counseling sessions with her. We met with the counselor for an hour or so, and toward the end, the counselor said, “I don’t think you two should be married to each other.” I found that odd, since (I thought) the counselor had only known us for an hour or so, but how can you argue with logic?
During the session, I brought-up the alcohol. I said, “I suspected that the reason she bought me four bottles of booze was that she knew she was leaving, and wanted to give me something to drown my sorrows.” The counselor turned to her, and she said, “Yes, that’s right.”
Little did I know, she had seen the counselor previously, on her own, but I didn’t know that until months later when I found a receipt for payment that was dated a month prior to my first meeting. Pre-meditated. And yes, she came back, but by March of 1996 she was gone again. This time, bravely in person, leaving me and the cat in her wake.
Prior to the Christmas of 1995, I wasn’t very excited about the holiday. The stress, and ultimately its anti-climax usually left me wanting. I discovered that wanting was a wasted emotion. To this day, I’m not very good at accepting gifts or asking for help. It’s part of my nature. But that Christmas soured me on it completely, irreparably and with nobody to struggle over buying a gift for, I was left orphaned from the holiday. We never had children and I have had girlfriends over the years, but the last ten years (at least) have been bereft of physical or emotional contact. The holiday comes and goes. I don’t blame her, but she certainly did not contribute to my overall happiness. You can research this blog for the Amazing Stories of My Marriage.
But, I did take very good care of the cat.
