Chapters

Last night, for the second time, I dreamt that my ex's phone number appeared on my cell. Neither time, did I pick up. I just stared at the digits trying to decide what I wanted to do. I knew that if I answered, things would start all over again. And eventually end all over again. On the other hand, the in-between time would be wonderful, at least until it wasn't.

A writer friend once suggested that relationships are like books. They have however many chapters - the exact number you never know until you get to the end - and even if you want to, it's impossible to skip to the last page.

On one hand, it's a comforting notion: things run their course. Like what happened to this acquaintance of mine. She'd hadn't seen her ex-boyfriend for more than a year, when one night, right in front of her house, she was robbed and stabbed. Who was the first person she called? Her ex. Immediately, he came over, took her to the hospital and sure enough, one thing led to another, and now they have two kids.

On the other hand, are the two of them happy? Not from what I've heard. Which gets me thinking about fate, as well as whether my ex would show up if something cataclysmic happened to me.

Truthfully, and I hate to admit this, but I don't think so. I think he'd be busy with one thing or another -- a terribly sad thing to admit, but also the reason I broke up with him.

A therapist friend, who lived through my relationship and its many reversals, says my dream was a good one. It showed I'm making progress. That I'm getting over my ex and finally ready to leave him behind.

Maybe. Probably even. But today at least, I wish this book would have gone on for another thousand pages