The mail came that afternoon and coincidentally there was a letter from Jack Harrington’s offices in Hollywood. Ignoring the other bills that came that day demanding payment, I ripped his open and unfolded the paper. There was my photo card for my camera along with his scrawling handwriting that simply said: “I thought you might like this back. Thinking of you, Jack.”
There was no revelation of missing me. Just the card. I plugged it into my computer and they were all there. That anger came back and I thought I might pitch them to the media. I thought I might sell my story to the news. I thought I would write him a good thanks-but-no-thanks letter in response. And then I flipped to the photo taken on the couch and I realized I missed him a lot but I was growing to hate him at the same time.
My fury spun out of control and I cleaned my house. I made plans for what I wanted to do in restoring it. I would spend every last cent he gave me just so he couldn’t have it back.
When the boys came home, we went shopping and bought clothes. We bought new furniture. We went out to dinner. I spent money on food at the grocery store like I had never spent before. We had so much fun together and then spent the next several weeks painting the house and doing remodeling projects from off the internet. That was our Christmas, buying the things we never could before and I had a glimpse into Jack’s life. Acquiring all those things, but not having anyone to come home to. Oh wait! He had some beautiful blonde on his arm now. I growled in frustration and hoped she would spend all of his money in careless, frivolous ways until he was broke and too old to be the sexy hero in the movies any longer.
Several more months passed and summer approached. Daniel graduated from high school and I bought him a new car to take to college. He was accepted at a school in Utah so I wanted him to have some reliable transportation. Okay, I wanted to spend more of that money that I had earned with my life. I wanted to erase Jack from my life. And as hard as I tried, he wouldn’t just leave.
So I decided to just make him visible to me the way I wanted to see him. I took the photo of him on the couch and removed the color from it. Then, I printed it out and put it out on my pretty new dresser. I suppose I felt a little bit better.
With the weather turning for the better, I hired some guys to work on the house and spruce it up some. I was nearing the end of my bucket. I knew I would have enough to pay the bills through the end of the year so I decided to use the summer to take photos that I could sell once again.
I started going to the gym a few miles away and in two months, I was back into a size 10. Feeling better about myself, I started getting out. Daniel and I bought him some things for his apartment and began to prepare to say goodbye to him as well.
When I made it into a size 8, I celebrated with a new wardrobe. It wasn’t where I wanted to be, but I could be content. I wasn’t as small as I had been, but I was showing some definition at long last. My waist was slimmer and my legs were strong, but I still fought the flab around my belly.
I started to go back to my hairdresser and had him bring back my Hollywood hair, short and sassy.
After one year, I put makeup back on my face.
“I’m not so ugly,” I reasoned to the mirror.
It had taken me a long time, but I did it. I was myself again.
We made it a point to stay busy and in truth, I hardly thought about those men in my life that I mourned. They grew to be ghosts of my memories.