As I sat at the cluttered dressing table putting the final touches on my makeup for my date with Erroll, I prayed that Harry wouldn't call-not tonight. I didn't know what I would say if he did; I was running out of excuses. I yelled for Emily, my middle daughter, to set up the ironing board and plug in the iron. Late as usual, I grabbed a skirt and blouse out of the laundry basket and was headed down the stairs when the phone rang.
"Hi, babe," Harry, my ex-husband, said in his sexiest voice. "What's going on?"
My brain was racing "I'm just getting ready to leave, Harry. I'm going to the movies with Colette." Lying was becoming too easy for me these days.
"Oh, really?" He didn't mean it as a question, I knew. "Got a hot date, huh, D.J.?"
"Come on, don't do this." My voice sounded whiney to my own ears. "You know I don't have a hot date. I just wanted to get out and I haven't seen her for a while."
"Don't worry. I understand perfectly." Then the line went dead.
I gritted my teeth. I'm not going to let him get to me tonight, I thought, and went downstairs to iron my clothes in the kitchen.
As the iron glided over the fabric, I thought of the tightrope I'd been walking on with my ex-husband since that day in court over a year ago. Why am I still torturing myself? I thought I hadn't done anything wrong by divorcing Harry. The marriage had become unbearable. Neither one of us was happy and it would have ended sooner or later.
Then whydo I feel so guilty? I
thought for the thousandth time.
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