Wednesday, January 27, 2010

A Letter to My Pretend Wife

I changed the name and address of this letter. Not sure why, it just felt like the prudent thing to do.

Dearest Jane,

How are you? It's been so long. I remember playing tag with you and your sister like it was yesterday. This was back in South Bend, when we lived across the street from one another. I wish I was seven again, and could go knocking on your door to see who was home. Neighbors along the boulevard of Childhood, I'm sure you remember the day when we became more than just neighbors, more than just friends. Of course, I'm talking about the day we pretend got married.

They say that love sometimes isn't enough. Sometimes money gets in the way. Sometimes people just grow into different versions of themselves, with different dreams and diverging paths. Still yet, sometimes people's Dads get better jobs and they move out of the neighborhood. Sadly, such was the fate of our young love. You left in such a hurry, though, that I feel we never really got to say goodbye. Also, we never got pretend divorced.

Listen, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but I've met somebody. She's great, she's a lot like you. She's white, and likes ice cream. We've decided to get married. Look, I never meant to hurt you. Sure, I could have found you earlier and made a better situation out of this, but let's be honest. That spark died a long time ago. We're getting married this summer, and I just need to know that you won't show up and make a scene. I would invite you, but my fiancee is adamant that you not be there. She's a fiery girl, and jealousy can sometimes leap from her Irish blood. You understand, don't you?

Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I think you're a fantastic girl. Well, you were a fantastic girl. You may be a horrible woman by now, I wouldn't really know.

Goodbye Forever,

The Correspondent

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