The UPS Store

Sitting in my silver Subaru in a parking lot, windshield pointing out toward the busy road so that I can see when he arrives in his bright blue Hyundai, I take a slow breath to ground myself. I look down at the mountain of pages on my lap, the bright January sun highlighting the stark black ink against the smooth white paper.

“WHEREAS, certain unhappy and irreconcilable differences have arisen between the Parties, as a result of which the Parties have agreed to live separate for the rest of their natural lives; ”

I put music on and look up at myself in the rearview mirror. How will I look to him when he comes? The sun lights up the red in my hair as I catch a subtle smile on my lips. I’ve worked so hard to get these papers signed, enduring what felt like relentless abuse to get here.

I wave him over when I see his car pull in. Still, he chooses to park a distance from me, walking over to grab the papers, without even a brief connection to my eyes.

I show him where he needs to sign, and explain the steps of the notarizing, which I completed on my own prior to his arrival. He hurriedly grabs the stack of papers and walks quickly into the UPS Store.

As I sit and wait in my car, I stare at the storefront of the UPS Store I had just stood inside of, signing the ending of my marriage in front of the friendly UPS manager who was also a notary public.

Unlike twenty-four and a half years ago, he and I are the only ones present for this bookend to our wedding day. No family and friends, no church, no flowers. No tuxedo, no big beautiful white dress.

As he emerges from the UPS Store, he hurriedly walks to my car window and tells me he will go initial each page in his own car. He does not even want to sit beside me in my car to initial pages.

I can see him flinching in his car as he feels me staring at him from mine. With his car door ajar, I can see him turning each paper clipped page, knowing those pages will soon fall. I resist the urge to walk over and warn him. And then, the pages fall just as a wind sweeps the parking lot, carrying multiple notarized pages under his car.

For an instant, I almost laugh, and then think, “Maybe this just isn’t supposed to happen.” Within seconds, I remember all the horrible things he has said and done to me this past year and a half, and I jump out of the car to help catch the flying pages.

 He gestures me away after he thinks he caught all the pages. When I see one more under his car, I start to approach, and again he rushes to grab it and gestures for me to stay away. I walk to his car and gently try to show him how I did the initialing without fully turning each page. He meets my gesture with anger, finally glaring into my eyes, saying he knows, he’s done it before. Then he closes his car door to further shut me out.

So I walk back to my car to wait.

I look at him. I look at the sun suddenly shining through the cloudy windy grey skies the day had started with. I glance at all the people coming in and out of stores and cars. I see a woman walking through a parking lot across the street with a limp, dragging one foot. For an instance, I alarmingly think, “Walker!” Then I laugh at myself realizing I’d been watching too many Walking Dead episodes with my kids. That genuine laugh helped me more than the breathing exercises I had attempted earlier.

As I see him coming out of his car to bring me the papers, I think to myself, this is it. Will he look at me warmly this time? Will he say anything to me? Touch my hand or ask me for a hug? Tell me this was all a big mistake, that he is genuinely sorry for all the pain he’s caused, and that he will finally get the help he needs to do whatever it takes to make things right? That he will finally fight for me, go all in?

I look down at my lap nervously. When it feels too long, I look up and see he had approached the wrong car.

When he finally approaches my window, instead of walking around to the passenger side, he hands me the papers through the window.

I ask him if he has anything to say and he explodes in anger again. He storms off to his car and I just sit and watch him.

I cannot bring myself to drive away.

He comes back to my window and aggressively asks if I’m just waiting for him to drive away first. I tell him I don’t know. He speaks to me briefly and then blows up again, storms back to his car and aggressively drives away.

I feel the tears coming, and for an instant, I think of following him in a big romantic gesture to stop this from happening, but I quickly recognize that pattern has ended.

I can’t fix this or him. I can’t save my marriage or keep my family “intact” no matter how hard I try.

So here in this UPS Store parking lot, my marriage legally ends.