Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 48

           Letitgo."

           "ButIwishmeandDavidcould-"

           Hecutsmeoff."See,nowthat’syourproblem.You’rewishin’toomuch,baby.Yougottastopwearingyourwishbonewhereyourbackboneoughttabe."

           Thislinegivesmethefirstlaughoftheday.

           ThenIaskRichard,"Sohowlongwillitbebeforeallthisgrievingpasses?"

           "Youwantanexactdate?"

           "Yes."

           "Somethin’youcancircleonyourcalendar?"

           "Yes."

           "Lemmetellyousomething,Groceries-yougotsomeseriouscontrolissues."

           Myrageatthisstatementconsumesmelikefire.Controlissues?ME?IactuallyconsiderslappingRichardforthisinsult.Andthen,fromrightdowninsidetheintensityofmyoffendedoutragecomesthetruth.Theimmediate,obvious,laughabletruth.

           He’stotallyright.

           Thefirepassesoutofme,fastasitcame.

           "You’retotallyright,"Isay.

           "IknowI’mright,baby.Listen,you’reapowerfulwomanandyou’reusedtogettingwhatyouwantoutoflife,andyoudidn’tgetwhatyouwantedinyourlastfewrelationshipsandit’sgotyoualljammedup.Yourhusbanddidn’tbehavethewayyouwantedhimtoandDaviddidn’teither.Lifedidn’tgoyourwayforonce.Andnothingpissesoffacontrolfreakmorethanlifenotgoin’herway."

           "Don’tcallmeacontrolfreak,please."

           "Youhavegotcontrolissues,Groceries.Comeon.Nobodyevertoldyouthisbefore?"

           (Well…yeah.Butthethingaboutdivorcingsomeoneisthatyoukindofstoplisteningtoallthemeanstufftheysayaboutyouafterawhile.)

           SoIbuckupandadmitit."OK,Ithinkyou’reprobablyright.MaybeIdohaveaproblemwithcontrol

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