An iStory

"Broken"


He was in line behind me. The baby was strapped to my front; I was jiggling to keep her calm.

“Oh, hello,” he said, “How are things?”

His voice was bright, like he expected good news. He didn’t notice my face. People don’t usually look that closely.

“Well, Mack left us,” I said.

He smiled.

“Last week, before we got the house.”

Grabbing my hand, he sat me down.

“Where are you now?”

“In the house. Alone. He’s gone.”

I shrugged. She chortled. He patted her head and then my arm.

“Listen.”

I had never known much about him, just small talk, café chatter, so I did.

From him I heard how injured one can be, and how long bitterness remains. That’s what determined everything, in the end, and how I ended up here, finally happy.

I didn’t ever want to be like that – so broken, so destroyed.