Rouf

Rouf

I’m not doing it, I’m not getting up, I’m staying right here I tell myself as his dark marble eyes pierce through my shaggy bangs and charcoal sleep-deprived eyelids. “Rouf!” “Fuck you!” I yell. “Errer,” yeah I bet he wasn't expecting that, I say it again, “fuck you,” this time with more zeal, more authority in my tone. I’m in charge here and I won't be walked on by some golden, curly hair bag. Then he does it, he leans his head down, places both paws on top of the other, and sniffles through the carpet. Now I’m the bad guy and Sammy is the victim once again. I ease out of bed, carefully place a pillow where my exhausted body should be, I slowly cover it with our Goose Down Feather Comforter, I shimmy my boy shorts just below my navel, I’m ready.

The instant I release the doorknob he says it, “Ha. Daddy Sammy wins again!” My eyes are like bullets, they explode through the crack of the door, simultaneously landing on my husband's back where he is cozy and snug, hogging all four of our five pillows. Look at him, he has his right leg crossed under his left leg making a soft triangular P shape. One warm cozy pillow over the top of his head while his heavy arm overlays it, forcing silence in the room. He shore has the nerve, I roll my eyes, take one last look at my sorry attempt at pretending to still be asleep, “hm, my one pillow.” He has two under his head, one under his fluffy P, and one halfway hanging off his side of the bed. I slam the door.

Somewhere between Sammy's leash yanking against my wrist and frost flakes slapping me in my face I realized, I’m an idiot, downright push over. I took my stance right then, this time I was serious. I stopped and took a seat, in the middle of grey concrete and snowy grass, my legs crossed, and my hands released Sammy's leash. “Ummmmmm,” what the hell was I doing? I did it again,”Ummmmmmmm.” He looked at me, I peeked at him, “ummmmmmmm.” I was taking time for my self and Sammy couldn't say a word, every time he tried, “ummmmmmm.” Before I knew it he joined except his attempt at meditation was,”ahooooouhhhhhh,” I don't think he knew what he was doing, but just thought it was fun because he never stopped, the whole walk home, over and over, “ahooooouuhhhh.” In that moment I realized something, something very important, I wanted a divorce.

He started having an affair at the beginning of covid and he didn't think I knew, well I knew, and I know he still is. I’ve been his doormat for way too long. When I got home hell broke loose, I grabbed the end of his comfy triangular P and pulled him off the bed. He looked at me in disbelief, “get the fuck out” I said, I meant it. Shortly after his flat-screen was meditating on concrete instead of me. Broken, cracked, smashed in both large and tiny shards. I say it again, “get the fuck out.” You see it wasn't Sammy I had the problem with, it was my husband. He left slammed the door in my face and called me Rouf. What a dog.

Today I woke up happy, I meditated, I wrote in my journal. I hit the treadmill for an hour and finished with some weights. By the end of the night, I grasp the fact that I had been vegan for five months now. Good for me, I love me.