Free One Day Soon by A. Meredith Walters Page A

curls, too much facial hair, and a bright orange T-Shirt came in like a whirlwind.
    “Close the door! The heat’s on!” I called out.
    “Okay, Mom ,” Lee chuckled, quickly shutting the door behind him. “Nice footwear. I see someone has decided to embrace their inner six-year-old.” He pointed at my slippers and I gave one a little shake.
    “I can get you a pair,” I offered with a toothy grin.
    “I’ll pass,” Lee remarked mildly.
    Lee Cutler, my neighbor and friend, handed me an envelope with a sour look on his face.
    “What’s this?” I asked, noticing my name in big block letters on the front, but no mailing address. Whatever it was, it had been hand delivered.
    “Chris dropped it by earlier. Said he wanted to make sure you got it so it wasn’t lost ‘in the pile of junk you keep on the table.’” He used quotey fingers and an overly dramatic masculine voice.
    “Must be the final divorce papers,” I said, tossing it on the pile that Chris was so worried it would get lost in.
    Lee peered at me speculatively. “No signs of meltdown. No justifiable curse words. You’re handling all of this remarkably well.”
    “What’s there to be upset about?” I sidestepped the overly ornate footstool I found at the flea market two weekends ago as I made my way to the kitchen. Most of my house was decorated from the flea market. I could afford better, but call it sentimental attachment. Chris had hated every single piece I’d brought home. He had no way of understanding the reasons I kept going back to buy useless junk.
    Wine. That’s what I needed. After the day I had, alcohol was definitely in order.
    I pulled down two glasses and filled both before handing one to Lee who was looking at me as though I had sprouted a second head. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re getting divorced. That’s something that would make most normal people at least a little upset.” Lee had spent the better part of our friendship trying to analyze me. He was one of the most sensitive and empathetic people I had ever met.
    Which made sense considering he made his living as a counselor. We had met when I had referred a client to him for support services. He specialized in end of life grief management and was the perfect combination of compassionate and no nonsense.
    We were only a week into our acquaintance when we had discovered that we lived down the street from one another. He had been a constant in my life ever since.
    Lee had latched on to my lack of emotional unavailability like a leech and hadn’t let go. He was tenacious in his love for people. Unwavering in his desire to make everyone feel better. It’s why he made such a wonderful therapist.
    “Don’t start psychoanalyzing me, Lee, I can do that myself,” I warned, downing half of my wine.
    “I don’t know how you ever married him. Was it a bad acid trip? Maybe beer goggles that never went away? I don’t get it. You’re a good-looking woman. You’ve got legs for miles and boobs that won’t quit. Please explain how a sexy, smart lady such as yourself ends up married to Mr. Pencil Pusher.” Lee made a face and polished off his wine, holding out the glass for me to refill it. I didn’t feel uncomfortable with Lee noticing my boobs and legs. I knew that I was no threat to his three-year relationship with his boyfriend Kevin.
    But he asked a good question.
    How had I ended up married to Chris O’Neil?
    I hadn’t even taken his last name. That should have told me something.
    The answer was simple.
    Because I hadn’t ended up with Yossarian Frazier.
    “Life is funny like that,” I muttered, grabbing a frozen dinner from the freezer and popping it in the microwave.
    “Well, that was deep,” Lee snarked better I ever could. “You really are the worst at talking about things. As a social worker, you should know the importance of unloading. Bottling things up leads to deep seeded rage and possible homicidal explosions.”
    I rolled my eyes. “If I need to unload,