Chapter 1 : Good Grief
I gave my little sister one last bear hug for some time; I can’t believe she’s finally becoming a contributing member of society. I sigh and close the door, then pull out my phone from my back pocket and scroll through my contacts until I find the contact named Monica.
When things weren’t as complicated as they are now, her contact was named my wife, but I don’t even know what that word means anymore. My phone dialled the number and held my phone up to my ear; it rang and rang and rang, but all I got was her voice mail.
"Hey this is Monica, I can’t seem to get to the phone right now, so please leave a message after the beep." It irritated me how happy she sounded in her voice mail, but what annoyed me, even more, is that she can’t even answer the fucking phone when I call her.
“Monica, it’s been 3 weeks and you still haven’t called me back, or even shot me a quick text to say that you’re alive, goddammit Monica, you have two kids it isn’t just me, they need you, I needed you.” Monica please just-” I was cut off by the beep, so I sighed and relaxed my back against our front door, then dragged it down the door then sat on the floor while holding my head in my hands.
I hear a noise coming from the stairs and I look up to see Josiah, mine and Monica’s son.
“Hey, Joe,” I say getting up Josiah dashes up the stairs, and my attempts to converse or connect with him are crushed.
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3 months later
After some back-and-forth, I finally convinced Monica to sign the divorce papers; being with her was such a pain because she was so undependable and impulsive, and I am sick and tired of cleaning up for stupid messes; from now on, she is no longer my problem.
I am washing my hands of that hoe.
So I decided to throw a little party to celebrate, I left my kids with my mom and dad and I’m inviting a bunch of my friends and I think I should invite my sister, too. I haven’t seen her in a long time and I miss her, even though I’m happy that she’s moving forward with her life, it’s not the same just talking on the phone I want her around.
And pulse this is a much as a celebration for her too, she had to take her bullshit for 5 years.
She’s coming over today, and I can’t wait to see her, and she’s apparently bringing a friend. Just then, the doorbell rings, and I get up from my kitchen barstool to open the door.
