Angela
I watched the clock as the big hand hit the hour mark. It was a big clock, and I'd bought it because I couldn't stand the quiet in my apartment, but now it was just annoying. I couldn't help but be aware of the pas—sage of time, even when I didn't want to be.
The ticking sound it made as the second hand moved grated on my ears, though there were times when I let the sound lull me to sleep because I wasn't adapted to being alone at home, yet. I'd probably get rid of it eventually or dump it on whoever I could find since it did cost me money.
It was seven p.m. on a Saturday night, and I was alone at home with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Instead, I was in my bedroom, staring at my clock as I urged time to go faster so I could finally go to sleep.
When did this become my life?
I thought back to the time when I was still a married woman. It felt like such a long time ago sometimes, but it had only been a few months. Since the divorce, none of my friends would talk to me. I hadn't realized until after we separated that they were all more Stuart's friends than mine, and they all blamed me for breaking up with him.
When I first brought up the separation, I didn't real—ize the reason they tried to talk me into sticking it out with him was that they felt bad for him, it had nothing to do with whether they cared about my emotional well—being. It had been hard to accept at first, but after being shunned for weeks, it was hard not to get it.
"Ugh," I groaned and jumped up from the bed. "What the fuck!"
It wasn't like I couldn't go out. Well, I was thirty—five and also a university professor, so it would actually be pretty damaging if I went out to some club and stu—dents from the university happened to be there. It wasn't encouraged, but all the professors knew most of the stu—dents, especially the ones that didn't live in the dorms, went clubbing and barhopping at night when they could. I'd lost my marriage, my house, to some people, I'd lost my reputation. I did not intend to lose my job.
Maybe there's something on TV that'll keep me oc—cupied.
I went back to the living room. Since it was the weekend, and school had started not too long ago, there were a few assignment for me to grade but I'd already done them, and I looked over the plan for next week's classes. I'd eaten dinner early without checking the time, but if I slept early, then I'd wake up early tomor—row, and it was Sunday. Another day where I had noth—ing to do that I would have to spend bored out of my mind. Alone. As usual.
At some point, I'd even thought of asking some of the other professors if they were busy for the weekend, but I didn't mingle a lot at work.
I sat on the couch with a bottle of beer and picked up the remote to turn the TV on. I flipped through sever—al channels before landing on some mindless drama. I was jumping in at the middle, but it hardly mattered. I knew I wasn't going to pay attention to it, anyway.
Work was the only thing that could really distract me because I was used to falling into it after being a professor for so many years. Anything else, especially with the mood I was in, and my mind would wander.
In the middle of the show, my thoughts turned away from the ridiculous plotline that I could just barely grasp and moved onto Stuart, my ex—husband.
What was I thinking when I married him? It was a question I'd asked myself a lot after the divorce. All my former friends, on the other hand, couldn't figure out why I wanted to get divorced, but none of them knew what he was like when it was just the two of us, behind closed doors. I never planned to tell anyone, either, so all I could do was make peace with the fact that all my friends for the past ten years turned their backs on me without a word the moment I signed those papers.
I still don't regret it.
The only problem I had now was being bored in my free time. If it was all I had to pay for the sake of free—dom, then I was happy.
When I blinked and my brown eyes refocused on the TV, I frowned. I turned it off, and checked the time, and could have cried when I realized barely twenty minutes had passed.
