The One Who Destroyed My Flowers

I trekked two and a half hours from Long Island to Connecticut to meet my friends outdoors for the very first time after COVID.  I overprecautiously masked myself to protect my precious 2 month old baby girl fetus.  We met at a crowded vineyard, but secured a wooden picnic table away from others.  I remember feeling nervous as I hugged Audrey and Kate.

Audrey handed me flowers because she’s thoughtful, but also because we hadn’t seen each other in what felt like forever.  She also knew there was trouble brewing in my marriage.  What she didn’t really know was that that trouble had been brewing since the inception of my relationship, but I didn’t want to admit that to myself let alone anyone else.

My two and a half year old son was home with his father and my nanny while I took some time with my college friends.  I returned to find my son in his bed and his father passed out on ours.  Upon shaking him awake, after a few angry words, his father stomped to the kitchen, slammed some cabinets open and shut, and toppled my vase of freshly gifted flowers, water spilling all over the floor and sunflower residue staining the beige tile floors.  

The next day when I asked him why he did this, he simply replied, “I thought you’d bought yourself the flowers.”