"Maybe she knows something I don't…"-Jack Johnson

The tires squeal as I round the corner. I check the clock.

4:05

"Crap!" I'm late. Nothing new, just something I'd rather not be right now. Pulling up, I see her. She's already pacing out front. Not a good beginning. I park the car, and check myself in the rearview.

As good as it gets.

There's a quick hand through the hair to smooth it down before I get out to smooth things over. Looking my way, she gauges my approach. What does the look say? I can't tell; she's wearing sunglasses. She wears enigmatic well . What do I say? This is so awkward. Should I have brought something? Oh I did….it's back in the car. Too late for that. The first impression is everything, and I've already blown it.

"Hey!"

Silence.

"You ready?" She turns and walks inside. I take that as yes.

It's been 2 months since I've seen MyUnwife. We're gathered here today to get through some paperwork on the house.

You want to know the first thought that ran through my head when I saw her? She's shorter than I remember. She used to seem 8 feet tall and luminous. Now? She's short. And sad. She took off the glasses when she entered Kinko's. That's what I saw: sad. Not in a pathetic way, just sad, as in "Not happy." Something's bothering her, and I don't know what it is. It's not my place to ask. I suppose it could be me, but I've never been a good judge at that type of thing. My first girlfriend stalked me for 3 months before she hit me with a brick to get my attention.

"oh, you like me huh? Couldn't you have said it with a Wiffle ball bat?"

"Tried that."

"Taser."

"Yup."

"Thank God I got the brick then."

"Yeah, my dad's gun is already in my locker."

"Cool, I'm gonna black out for a bit, but when I come to I'm all yours."

"You better be…"

Yeah, that'll be a chapter in my upcoming book, Love and Felonious Assault: A game for two players. I'm kidding. Don't rush your local book store. It won't be there. But if you do go in and whisper my name as you pass a book club meeting that would be great.

"Rob Blogwriter. He is like the greatest author of the twenty-first century."

Anyway, back to our story of MyUnwife and reading moods...

I'm great at reading people, except when it comes to their relation to me. There, I'm oblivious. Standing in Kinko's waiting for a Notary, MyUnwife is white noise and a static screen. I read nothing. I check my cell

4:11

Miss Cleo is on speed dial. Does she still have a number? She apparently was a real psychic, she saw how people would give her money and make her famous. That's 75 bucks per person for her fifteen minutes of fame. That kind of tenacity made Kato Kaelin a household name. Who saw that coming? I bet even Cleo didn't see Kato in the stars. Yet there he is…

"I am a bright and shining star…"

It's weird. We used to talk, (MyUnwife, not Cleo or Kato. C'mon! Keep up!) now there's nothing to say. I throw out small talk topics like life preservers, but they don't help. I've done everything to put on my best face. I'm OK; no need to worry about me. See? All smiles. Besides, Now that I'm no longer your concern, there's nothing to worry yourself about. Relax. Her face isn't relaxed. Well, it's not tense, but it's just so sad, and worn. I want to ask, but she's rescinded my rights. Instead all I can do is wonder. And that's the most insidious punishment of all. She might as well be wearing a sign around her neck, "Look but don't touch."

While she shows her ID and the Notary scrawls in her little book, I remember something she said back in February. It helps.

"I'll miss your parents. I like them. [as opposed to how I feel about you.]" This was while she was still "making up her mind." yeah, the subtlety didn't escape me either.

Crash!

I remember that, and it's a splash of frigid reality. I don't worry so much about her. It always brings me back to the "If I can't stop hating you…"

Yeah, right back atcha babe.

In the parking lot, I ask her about the divorce paperwork. She's waiting on a reimbursement check from her employer. I'm concerned about her spending. I do my best to let it go without harping. I just get worried. Bad things happen when you wait on things like this. We're friendly now. Let's end it this way. It's a perfect snapshot moment. Let's take the picture before somebody snarls. That's not the memory we'll want to carry in our wallet. Get out while all is semi-amiable.

"…I like them."

Click.

I want to say "Take care," but it sounds inappropriate echoing off the inside of my skull, so I fallback onto "See ya." It's the biggest lie I think I've ever told her. She repeats my words like hypnotized mantra.

"I must kill the Frank Drebin."-Police Squad. Use that as your voice print reference.

Click.

It's all wrong. She's done it all wrong. Walking around the house later, I remember all the things she's done wrong. I'd tell you, but then I'd have to list all the things she's done right. I don't have that kind of space in my blog.

I'll just say this: Despite the fact that it's all over but the fat lady, and she's only holding out for a better idiom, MyUnwife is the only woman I ever saw myself marrying and growing old with.

At least I got it half right.