Too Much Boos

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Chapter One – Gutter Talk

With a name like Autumn, I suppose I was predestined to love all things fall. Apple cider, changing leaves, Halloween—especially Halloween. I’d had a blast as a young girl, dressing up as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz one year, Tinkerbell the next. Now, as the mother of two middle schoolers—Lila, age 12 and Landon, age 10—I loved Halloween even more, if that was possible.

In previous years, my husband and I had always dressed in some sort of couple’s costume. Woody and Bo Peep from the “Toy Story” movie. Frankenstein and his bride. Barbie and Ken. But there would be no couple’s costume this year, and I’d never be Dakota’s bride again. He and I were knee-deep in divorce proceedings. Turns out my high-school sweetheart felt like he’d missed out sleeping with only one woman, and had begun a workplace affair with Kayla, the manager of the athleticwear department at A-Game Sports, the store where he was also employed. Two months back, when Dakota texted to say he’d have to work late for the fifth night in a row, I’d become suspicious. How long does it take to count inventory? Isn’t everything automated these days? I’d gone to the store, slipped through the swinging door marked STAFF ONLY, and caught Dakota in his office with Kayla, rounding third base and sliding into home.

I’d stormed off, leaving his door open so the two would have to scramble to cover themselves lest an employee go to the kitchen across the hall to take a break. I’d promptly driven home, tossed Dakota’s things into garbage bags, and threw the bags out onto the front porch. I’d also changed the passcode for the door so he wouldn’t be able to come inside to beg for my forgiveness.

As it turned out, changing the code was a waste of time. Dakota hadn’t begged for forgiveness, or even attempted to apologize. He just grabbed his things and moved them over to Kayla’s apartment. In fact, as I’d watched him through the peephole, he appeared relieved. Happy, even. I’d only made things easier for him by gathering and bagging his belongings. I’d married a turd. At least I had the excuse of being young and naive at the time.

Though the ease with which my husband left me had stung like a hornet, once the initial shock wore off, I realized I felt freer and more content than I had in years. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders—a one-hundred-and-eighty-five-pound weight with a litany of bad habits ranging from leaving his dirty underwear and socks on the bed to minimizing my achievements in an attempt to make me feel small and beholden to him. Needless to say, I don’t miss him at all.  

At any rate, with Halloween just two weeks away, I’d better get busy. The kids would be home from school at four o’clock. I’d surprise them by having the house decorated when the bus dropped them off.