“ I want a divorce.”

It seemed as if it was in slow motion. I didn’t need to hear her say it. I knew that’s what she wanted. All I could do was watch as her mouth formed each word. It was if they had no meaning to her. Those words that brought my world crashing down around me. Those words that so easily rolled from her lips.

A divorce. She wanted a divorce. She was done with our marriage, she was done with us and she was certainly done with me. Five years we had been together. Five fucking years and this is how the fairy tale ends, divorce. I knew we were having problems, what couple doesn’t. I should of taken her moving out as a sign everything was over. Especially when she moved out with her new boyfriend. I just didn’t want to let go.

A divorce. I always thought we were better than that. That we could get through anything. Especially something as miniscule as this. Okay, so maybe me wanting a child and her opposing it every step of the way isn’t so miniscule, but it was definitely something we could of worked on. She didn’t even try, the moment we disagreed she packed up her stuff and walked out. Next thing I know I’m sitting here reading over the same 4 words over and over again.

“ I want a divorce”

Divorce wasn’t something I had even considered. I wanted to get through this, I called every specialist, every counselor , hell I even called every voodoo doctor in the LA phone book. Apparently divorce was definitely something she had considered.

I can’t believe this is how it ends. This is what it all comes down to. Me sitting here in my living room surrounded by empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, reading a coffee stained letter over for the 12th time this morning. As if the words were stereo instructions written in Chinese. Five years all comes down to this moment right here. Either send the paper’s back and refuse to sign them until she at least tried to fix this, or give in and sign away the last 1,825 days of my life.

With shaky hands I reached over the half empty bottle of Bud and picked up the pen from the coffee table. Bringing it over I flipped over the papers to where there was a purple sticky pointing next to her signature as an indication to where my name should be. We should be doing this together, we went into this marriage together, the least we could do was get out of it the same way, now all I had was a purple fucking post it mocking me with my soon to be ex-wife’s signature splayed out on the paper in perfect cursive. She even dotted the fucking I’s with hearts.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Clearing my throat I scribbled my name over the line and placed the pen back on the table. The man sitting across from me stood up and plucked the paper’s from my hand glancing them over before putting out his hand in front of me, as if I just finished signing a business deal rather than the end of my marriage.

“I’ll be sure to get these paper’s filled right away Mr. Chasez. I’m sorry we had to see each other on such circumstances.” I placed my hand in his and shook it briefly before reaching for the remote and clicking on the TV.

“ Thanks. You can see yourself out right?” I could feel his eyes on me. More than likely telling himself how sorry he felt for me and what a pathetic sight it was to see a grown man in his pajamas sign his divorce paper’s with an unshaven face and pizza stains on his shirt. Not sorry enough to cut me some slack on his billing sheet, but sorry enough to lock my door his way out.