I shake my head. Doesn’t matter what I say though, you’ll think I did.
Not true, I’m open to a new narrative.
Oh please, I say – putting up my hand. You’re not above a self-serving narrative, G, no matter how ‘woke’ you are.
He doesn’t disagree.
I was checked out before you proposed, I admit. And I don’t think you proposed with thoughtful intentions. I dunno that I’ll ever stop feeling skeptical of that.
Why do you keep saying that? That I didn’t propose with the ‘right’ intention? I loved you and I wanted to marry you. Whatever that meant. Even if it meant battling your family for the rest of our lives.
I roll my eyes. I dunno, G. Knowing what I know now, I think you felt guilty. And you got scared so you did the big grand gesture. The big ole proclamation of love.
He looks over to me from the closet. That’s your narrative?
How could it not be? I say. Gave it all of what? 2 seconds of planning before you’re standing around ass naked proposing on a whim? I even had to pay for half the weekend.
I pause as he groans.
You are your fucking money, Linds. I won’t miss that.
You didn’t think it through, I say again, with more conviction. Just bulldozed your way into an engagement with no thought to timing, to money, to plans, to –
Fuck you, he says.
I look at him from the living room floor. Nice, I mutter.
Don’t tell me what I did or didn’t feel, he says. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.
Fine. No point anyhow.
No, there is. But, not right now, he pauses. Right now, let’s just get the living room packed.
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