* The following piece of writing is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
I am working from home, waiting for my morning client, my Ring door tells me they are here, I open my front door, greet them warmly as I always do and let them in, just as I am about to close the door, I see someone else rapidly approaching, it’s Jason. Oh my, what is he doing here, he’s not supposed to be here. I gently ask my client to go into the therapy room and apologise that I need to talk to Jason briefly before we can begin our session. My client is more than happy to oblige, they make themselves comfortable in the therapy room, the door to which they have sensibly closed. I am conscious of the possibility that my conversation with Jason may be overheard by my client, so I’m not quite sure how I am supposed to remain professional when a car crash is potentially about to happen. Jason isn’t moving from my front door, he wants to be invited in, I don’t really want to invite him in, but I also don’t want my overly nosy neighbours hearing our conversation either, so reluctantly I let him in, with the front door slightly agar, to signal that this will be a very brief conversation. I hadn’t ever expected to see him again and he has thrown me by being here – he looks somewhat distressed and although it is not my role to feel concern for him, I can’t help it, he was such a huge part of my life for so long. I open up the dialogue by saying, “Jason what are you doing here, you can’t be here, I’m about to go into a session”. He looks at me with those oh so familiar hazel eyes, eyes I used to get lost in, and says, “oh gosh I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise but I just had to see you”. I feel a flash of annoyance at this because it signals to me that he is not dealing with what is going on for him, and I feel as though he wants me to rescue him, again. I reiterate to him that “Jason you have to go”, to which he says, “please, I just need 2 minutes”. I relent and give him the space to speak – he starts talking in almost a rushed, manic manner about how he can’t seem to move on, he’s struggling, he didn’t think we’d ever end up here and he’s not coping.
In an almost whispered yet urgent tone I display my dismay at what he’s telling me, my annoyance levels have risen so my words are to the point, “Jason we’re in this situation because of your actions, because you broke us, you broke my trust, you broke everything we built, so I don’t actually understand how you can come to my house and tell me how much you’re struggling! I have spent the last 20 months rebuilding the life that you shattered, I have picked myself off the floor, painfully put myself back together to finally feel whole again and you want me to have some sort of sympathy for what you’re feeling. You did this!! There’s nothing more to say, you really must leave”. Jason is somewhat shocked at the forcefulness of my words, as throughout our 10-year marriage I was always the calm, collected and zen one, I rarely raised my voice and I most certainly had never shown him any anger. He doesn’t know what to say, I can sense that he is looking at me with new eyes, as though he has come to the realisation that I am actually not the same person he knew all those years ago, something in him seems to click and I see how his brain is desperately trying to comprehend that the person standing in front of him, is actually someone he doesn’t know anymore. He drops his gaze from my face, and I feel relieved that I don’t have to say anything else. I motion for him to leave and without saying a word he heads out of my front door. Hopefully this time for good because as much as I had loved him, as much as I had thought he was the one and that we would have stood the test of time, I let him go - so now I hope he can move on just as I have moved on.
Comments