Weeks passed without much mention. One morning I woke and he was gone. Gone for good she said. Too much pot, apparently. She liked me then. We cooked together, every Sunday afternoon after Sunday School. Breakfast on Saturdays. Life was fun again. Puzzles were a favorite in front of the old coal stove on cold wintry nights. A year had went by before I had realized.
He started phoning her. I hated to hear his voice on the other end of the phone. They went on dates. I acted like a child and kicked and screamed and begged her not to go. She said "Quit being jealous". Was it jealousy? Did I not want her to be happy? No, that wasn't it. I was scared. Scared he'd return and hurt me again. Scared I'd disappoint them again. Scared to feel dirty again.
Only a few phone calls and dates later he was back. This time, he only rarely touched me, though many times in front of her. How did she not see? Maybe she did? The puzzles were permanently put away, the Sunday School Brunches stopped. No more Saturday breakfasts for us. I felt myself spiraling back into the darkness, desperately wishing for someone, anyone to care.