Sorry, Yes

Oops, I’m sorry and fk you.

She asked me about the reading glasses she found in her bed. Our former marital bed. They were one of two pairs of glasses I owned while we were married.

“Do you recognize these glasses I found?”

Holy crap, my mind screamed, she’s going to wonder what… Wait, she doesn’t recognize my glasses? Um…

“Yes, those are mine.” I waited for the deeper question.

After a pause, I continued.

“Um, I was wrestling with Ella and they must’ve fallen off.” Ella was our ancient Boston Terrier. I had been by our old house, her house, earlier in the week, dropping off our kid’s weekend bags. I always wrestled with her when I was at the house.

The obliviousness of my ex felt horrific, funny, and devastating at the same time. As in, perhaps there were several men in and out of her bed these days and she didn’t recognize her ex-husband’s glasses to the point she had to ask.

I asked her to leave them out ten days later when it was time to pick up the kid’s weekend bags again. She forgot.

“Did you hide the glasses, I can’t find them. I just picked up the kid’s bags.”

“Sorry, yes.”

Read more Short-Short Stories from John.