Yours, Ours, Hers And Mine

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I can't compete with her ghost!

Submitted: June 08, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 08, 2017

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A A A


Yours, Ours, Hers And Mine.

 

I’m taking too long over this. I’d wanted to get things all sorted and be packed, ready to go almost as soon as you arrived home. It shouldn’t be taking up so much time; after all, there’s pathetically little for two years.

 

From the kitchen I have taken just one thing; a picture that I loved and decided to hang. You didn’t like it but I was defiant and hung it in a corner of the kitchen that you rarely even looked at. That would definitely be considered mine. Everything else was either ‘ours’ or ‘hers’.

 

The lounge wasn’t much different. A couple of c.d.’s that I’d brought with me, never played since moving in because you thought they were rubbish. Where are they? Huh, right down at the bottom of the pile, hidden away beneath the more acceptable ones. And, what do you know, it’s the same with the dvd’s. My two, ‘total trash’ are buried behind ‘Yours’ and ‘Ours’. I guess she took ‘hers’ with her.

 

Books, well that’s easy. You never read and have never wanted me to clutter up your space so there are only a few. All mine, obviously. No need to even look at the covers. I wonder, did ‘she’ read or did you constantly have her undivided attention. For someone who has been so effectively haunting my last two years I know surprisingly little about her.

 

The bathroom is easy. I just need to grab all the bottles that have been pushed to the back of the shelves. As I’m doing that I can’t help but stare at the two pill bottles still standing there with ‘her’ name on them. Are you really expecting her to come back and want -out-of-date medication? I don’t know; you’ve always refused to discuss ‘her’ with me.

 

My laptop......that is mine! I’ll just go through the files later. Remove anything that so much as hints at your existence. It’s going to hurt because I did, still do, love you!

 

You, on the other hand, are still totally committed to and besotted by ‘her’. Well, she’s won.....or you’ve won – I don’t know which. I cannot fight against a ghost of pure perfection. No matter what I do you are always going to find something to pick at and pull apart.

 

Clothes! Well, there’s very few of those I’d consider to be ‘mine’! After all, didn’t you choose most of them for me. And you might deny it but I’ve seen those photos of ‘her’ you’d secreted away. You have been trying to make me as much of a replica as you possibly can! I’m taking nothing apart from the ones I brought with me when I moved in. Give the rest to charity, if you want. Or perhaps you’d rather keep them for ‘her’ return.

 

A couple of odd bits and pieces here and there and that’s it. All my life for the last two years, all neatly packed in to one bag, zipped up and ready to go. And just in time for I hear your key turning in the lock.

 

"Hi, Rachel, how’s.......What’re you doing?”

 

I have to give credit where it’s due – you certainly sound surprised. Are you really unaware of what a strong hold ‘she’ still has on you? Maybe you are, but I’m not, and I’m just not prepared to second place any longer.

 

"I’m sorry, Jeff.” I sound really calm to myself, almost detached. “You don’t love me, you still love Tina. And I can’t live with her ghost hanging over my shoulder any longer. You are still living with her inside your head and there’s just no space for me!”

 

"But.....”

 

"No! No ‘but’s. I’m not discussing it. I just.....” What did I want to do? I certainly did not want him to ask me to stay. “I just thought I owed you an explanation in person and.....”

 

The car horn outside gives me my escape route. Without it I’d have tripped myself, might even have been talked round. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

 

And I almost run, out of the door and down the path. I quickly climb into the car and ask my dad to go. Quickly! I’m not going to look round to see if you are watching me leave. Maybe you’ve come after me but I doubt it somehow. There’s still too much of Tina there for you to really care.

 

Don’t cry, I tell myself, but the tears still make their way out from my eyes to trace their way down my cheeks.


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