- 5.
I ignored the buzzing in my hand and just shut
the phone off.
Right then and there, my five–year marriage
to Frank was officially over.
Back at the hotel, Frank went ballistic when
he saw my message, texting me like crazy.
[Divorce? Stop messing around, there’s no
way those “Doghouse Cards” are all used up
that fast!]
[Didn’t you like the gift I sent? I can pick out
something new!]
[Ashley, answer the phone, we need to talk.]
[Why’d you turn it off? Are you really mad?]
The dude just couldn’t believe I was blowing
him off, calling me over and over.
After getting the cold “leave a message” tone
for the thirty–ninth time, he started to panic.
No way… no freakin‘ way… everything was
fine before I left…”
His mind raced back to when I mentioned the
“Doghouse Cards.” I was so damn calm.
Calm like I’d given up hope.
That thought made him grab his clothes and
throw them on.
Г
Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck,
snuggling up to him.
“Frank, you promised you’d spend the whole
night with me…”
He pushed her away impatiently, without
explaining, and ran out the door.
He was dialing my number the whole way, over and over, but I never picked up.
The second he walked in the door, he
stepped on broken glass.
It crunched under his feet, and Frank finally
noticed the mess.
Our wedding photo.
L
The shards had slashed across our faces in
the picture, like our broken marriage.
He slowly crouched down, picking up the
photo.
He carefully wiped the glass off.
Looking at the two young people in the
picture gazing at each other, smiling so
sweetly, Frank’s eyes started to sting.
After putting the photo back, Frank started
searching the house for me.
When he saw the empty closet, he finally
realized I was gone.
He slumped down in the living room, staring
Г
The proposal video playing on repeat was the
only thing left in the house that reminded him
of me.
He dropped his head, running his fingers
through his hair, racking his brain for where I
might’ve gone.
Then his eyes landed on the trash can.
That pile of pink paper looked way too
familiar.
So familiar it took his breath away.
He crouched down again, not caring about
the cream smearing on his sleeves.
He picked up the pieces, one by one.
く
He painstakingly pieced them together.
Exactly ninety–nine “Doghouse Cards.”
He remembered five years ago, when he’d
looked at those cards and promised me with
all sincerity.
“Ashley, don’t worry, I’ll never give you a
reason to use these.”
He remembered all the times he casually told
me to use a card.
All the emotion he’d built up had been
carelessly thrown away in the last two years
since Jessica showed up, until it was all gone.
A guy who was usually so good with numbers
suddenly had no c cent of “aq” anymore
く
Every time, he’d smooth things over with a
“Doghouse Card,” then try to make up for it
with a gift.
He never thought there was anything wrong
with it.
Every time he bailed, he bought me a gift to
apologize, so what was there to complain
about?
His eyes drifted to the display case in the
living room.
He froze again.
The wall of shelves was crammed with gifts
he’d given me.
く
But if you looked closely, there were three
identical sets of jewelry right in the middle.
The receipt for one of them was dated
yesterday.
He suddenly remembered the Chloe wrap he’d
sent Jessica yesterday.
He had someone fly it in from Italy right after
he saw Jessica shivering.
It was way more valuable and thoughtful than
all the jewelry.
He was struck by a realization.
When had his once unique love for me turned
into cheap, repetitive gestures?
L
That night, he sat in the living room, drinking
all the booze from the liquor cabinet, but he
still couldn’t find the answer.
