Thanks for taking the time to meet me at Cuppa-Joe today.
Here is a quick recap of our discussion and actionable items:
Deposit – For two years, six months, and thirteen days we have amicably split the monthly rent and utilities, as well as groceries and Wolfie’s vet bills (vaccinations, exams, heartworm, tick and flea treatments), plus other sundries. However, we still owe two months’ rent, which we agreed to pay Mr. Henderson when we turn in our keys. Since we are not getting our deposit back due to the extensive hole you punched in the bedroom wall, plus the kitchen chair and dishwasher you broke, you have agreed to pay what is left on our lease.
Packing/Moving Out – Mr. Henderson has kindly given us until next Friday to move out, so I will go to the apartment on Monday, my day off, and pack up my things. You will need to go at a time convenient to your schedule. We both agreed we should not be in the apartment at the same time, especially since Brian has offered to help me move. At that time, we will both sign off on the rental agreement, though again (sorry to repeat myself here), remember we will not be getting our deposit back.
Division of Property – As agreed, I will take the Sam Church and The Killers vinyl records (your gifts to me), plus the plum-colored IKEA pillows, which I bought. The record player and other albums are yours, as is the Danish-inspired desk lamp. However, since we both chipped in to buy the IKEA drawing table, and since it would be impossible to split, and because it was your fist that made the hole in wall, we decided I will take possession of it as compensation for my half of the lost deposit.
Smaller, Jointly-Purchased Items – i.e., bedding, linens, kitchen appliances and utensils. We agreed I will take the bedding and linens, you will get the appliances (except the Bullet Blender) and utensils. While you were in Bogota doing research on your important article about street art, I did have to buy a new toaster; so, the toaster is mine. It is not the only thing that fell apart while you were gone. If you recall, I had to call Brian to come over and fix the clogged drain. And the shower head, which broke, had to be replaced to the tune of $45.
Wolfie Arrangements – Obviously, Wolfie is not something that can be divided. Therefore, we decided to make “parenting arrangements,” like our parents did years ago when they split up. We agreed I will get Wolfie on MWFs, you on TRSs; we will alternate having him on Sundays. We also agreed should Wolfie be confused or exhibit behavioral problems, as he did when you were in Bogota, we will consider taking him to Megan Jones, my sister’s best friend who is a dog psychologist (with a college degree, not, as you claim, a woo-woo New Ageist Animal Communicator). I assure you, Megan comes with very high recommendations at the dog park. Though we did not talk about this, one caveat: If you remember, it was my idea we get a dog, I was the one who dragged you into the pet store on Mulberry Avenue, and it was me who talked you into purchasing Wolfie—plus crate, dog food, bed, collar and leash—which we split equally (see: vet bills, above).
Other Items –
A.) You will no longer stop in at Cuppa-Joe while I am employed there. Likewise, I will not stop and browse at Book World while you are employed there. Though I know you loathe Amazon, I will undoubtedly have to order some books online if I cannot find them at Barnes & Noble or Jenkin’s New & Used Books. So, please, no lectures.
B.) We will no longer be “friends” or “follow” each other on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, or YouTube, and we will not stalk each other or any new relationships we may begin; e.g., Brian McHenry. I know you think Brian and I have been fucking behind your back, but I can assure you our relationship has been strictly platonic; he was a good friend to me when you were in Bogota. As you recall, you were the one who told me to give him a call when the sink backed up and the shower head broke. The few times he stopped in at Cuppa-Joe’s we chatted, and once, because I was getting off my shift, we shared a table and had coffee, which I felt I owed him for fixing the sink and shower head. Even though you don’t seem to think men and women can meet for coffee and chat, that is all we did.
C.)We will maintain our respective friendships with Diane, Curt, Lisa, and Bill, because we knew them separately before we met, but should any of them have a party or other social event, we agreed only one of us will attend and said person will refrain from discussing the other to our friends. (I know, big promises.)
D.) Finally, when my new short story comes out next month in The Paris Review –The Paris fucking Review! – you agreed to read it as “fiction” and not be concerned if some details seem vaguely familiar (e.g., the young woman, Antonella, who works at a museum in Bogota where the American student is doing research and who is overhead whispering in the background when the man calls home to his girlfriend, is strictly creative license; similarly, the part where the student meets the famous street artist he’s writing about, and ends up vomiting on the man’s shoes, should in no way be misconstrued for real life). Geoffrey, please remember we are both serious writers, just as I will remember that you are a master of hyperbole, having once told me you would love me forever.
Please, let me know if you have any questions.
DS Levy lives in the Midwest. She has had work published in New World Writing, Bending Genres, Bull Men’s Fiction, Atticus Review, X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, and others. Her flash chapbook, “A Binary Heart”, was published by Finishing Line Press.