He said, “I’m sorry those kids decorated the Christmas tree without you.”
He didn’t say
“I’m sorry I don’t care to know you well enough to think you might want to participate in this.”
“I’m sorry I assumed you wouldn’t care.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t think to even communicate this event.”
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”
“I’m sorry I don’t know you.”
I’d like to believe this is what he meant, but can’t be sure, just making light of it. I’m not sure he understands that he was making light of it, denying himself the realness of the folly.
I try to imagine it was a purposeful slight, or that I am just not trying hard enough to understand his unspoken languages, but have given up thinking anything more ripples under the surface. This is painful to think. I am horrible.
I am the tempest that happened to him. A lust so obsessed with consuming him I didn’t check to see if he was fully awake (could’ve I even handled such a mate then). I am the monster that ten years ago ate the man that sheltered her from emotions too big to comprehend, and again the fiend that spit him out. I am the bitch that breeds and bites. So far from loyalty. I am my own wretched reality tv show.
“Mama, we saved the birds for you to hang on the tree. We know they are your favorite.”