End Flashback

Only degrees of losing, yeah.
Divorcing is a mess.
It seriously is.
When grudge and mistrust and disappointment take over, you start acting like you’re not you anymore.
And the person you loved the most becomes the person you love to hate.
The one who must be put down on her knees.
And it doesn’t matter the shallowness, the baseness and the vileness of your actions; you still want to win.
You want it all.
And every little action, purposeful or not, becomes a mess of biblical proportions.
So, yeah…
It’s only degrees of losing.
And Shane and Carmen, at that point of the story, were staring to learn this basic, simple rule.

Flashback – Carmen

When somebody knocks on the door of my bedroom, I am combing my long hair in front of the mirror and I am ready to go to sleep.
It’s past midnight and tomorrow is going to be a very important day – I have a catering set for noon and I am really excited about the idea of making new contracts, of meeting new people able to push my career in the right direction.
Everything is ready and I am fucking proud of how hard I worked for it.
Three huge cool-boxes full of appetizers and cakes are already strategically positioned right outside the garage. The delivery guy will draw them in less than six hours and he’ll not need to disturb my sleep.
I’ll wake up at nine o’clock, perfectly rested and fresh and totally ready for my big day.
Absent-mindedly, I get up and motion towards the door.
Jenny’s face appears in the doorframe.
She looks tired, sleepy and embarrassed.
“Uhm… Mrs. Carmen, I am sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if I could borrow a sleeping tablet…”, she whispers, glancing at the guest room at the bottom of the hallway.
I look at her, squarely.
“Did Shane send you for it?”, I ask her in a flat tone.
She immediately blushes, shaking her head.
“No, actually no”.
I just stare at her and she looks down, finding something interesting on the Persian carpet on the floor.
“Alright, you got me there…”.
She looks up, widening her already huge hazel eyes.
“…Which is good, because I am uncomfortable with the charade”.
I can’t help but smile.
“It’s nice to see somebody still caring for somebody in this house”, I mutter, starting to close the door.
“Good night, Jenny”.
“So there will be no pills?”, she calls me out behind the door.
I don’t answer.
I turn off the light and slide under the sheets, feeling lonely, and empty.