The Breakup

I walked with my girlfriend into an old house with high ceilings and old wood and windows, the old style, rectangular with a semi-circle on top. The front door opened on a entrance foyer and then to the right, a dining room. There was a lot of angry activity going on. My brother-in-law John arrived and seemed very surprised to see me there. His daughter was with him, but not his real-life daughter. This girl had dark scraggly hair and a pointed chin, looking almost crone-ish in a young girl way. I was speaking on the phone to John’s sister, my ex-wife. The girlfriend also seemed to be my ex-wife. My ex-wife on the phone and I were trying to negotiate a timing where she wanted me to be available to take care of something and I was describing to her how, due to someone else being sick and unable to mind Ian, I wasn’t able to do it (whatever it was). I felt very self-satisfied in the strength of my alibi. My girlfriend/ ex-wife in the house was arguing with her mother (my mother-in-law) over getting supper ready. I had a round casserole dish in my hand, about four inches in diameter. It had some treat in it with cheese and rice on top. I offered it to her to temporarily try to make some peace out of this situation. She whirled on me and said, “Shut up!” Her mother said something to her and was told the same thing, “Shut up.”

I had a clear moment of, “Fuck this.” I could walk out the front door with no explanation and just be gone. This would be the perfect break-up. Besides, I had another girlfriend, so really, who needed this one?

And so that’s exactly what I did. Without a word to anyone I walked out the front door into a beautiful sunny summer day, where, on the raised land at the top of the wall next to the sidewalk, Phil Mickelson was practicing driving golf balls.