Amanda holds the pen tightly and pauses, she could go vulgar; an f-you or drop dead? That is not her style. Love or hugs, both would be sarcastic. She scans the words, a Dear John letter of sorts, hastily scribbled telling him farewell, adios, and good-bye.
Her cell rings. The screen says it is John, not the real John, her John. Seconds before the call transfers to voice box, she picks up.
His raspy voice says, “Amanda, I’m so sorry, Jimmy got stopped, a DUI, I went to pick him up. He was so messed up I didn’t have a chance to phone, I know I said this wouldn’t happen again, please say you’ll forgive me.”
Amanda takes time to respond thoughtfully, with patience, “John, that’s what you said last time you were a no-show. What happened then? Was that the time your mom fell in the driveway? I have trouble remembering. Perhaps it was the time you drove that woman who was attempting to transport $500 of groceries in a baby stroller, home.”
“Amanda, you know I love you. I’m just no good about calling. I start getting caught up in their problems and the next thing I know I’m in trouble with you. Please you got to understand.” His voice is soft and genuine, sincere.
She clears her throat and states firmly, “John, let’s be candid.”
“Amanda, why are you calling me John? And candid? You don’t love me. Never could accept me for who I am. You want me to be perfect, show up when I say I will, phone when I can’t. I’m a sloppy careless stupid person who loves you. But that isn’t enough! No never enough. Guess what Amanda, we are so done.” John hits the end call button.
Amanda picks up the pen and writes a valediction, Sincere Regrets, before signing her name on the bottom of the letter.
. . . . Seriously Just Saying