I feel a chaos of feelings rise in me. Ten years can't just be put in parenthesis in a moment. I hate Peter for what he did. And I hate all those who did this to Peter. The hystery of recession, the downsizings, that life is no more than a mere line of a pen. And now I don't think it's a good idea to leave him. I know it sounds all sentimental, I even cry when I think of it, but I do believe in the death does us apart, I do believe you have to hold on for better or for worse... I almost turn home when I realize I'm trying to reason what he did. I pity him. But my body won't obey, I still drive the car the other direction. If I could spin time back, I would. I want the man who he was. I want a man, a strong, earnest, one who doesn't run into a high of alcohol to forget his own minority. I want the Peter who would carry his whole family on his shoulders without a thought. The one who wanted to wow me. The one who seduced me every night. The one who wanted me and was a partner for me. And my body, my guts know that this Peter doesn't exist anymore, no matter how I would command it home, the car goes another way. Maybe I should have talked about it with my father. Or my first love? I slam on the brakes. Gosh, what am I doing? Am I just looking for a reason to step out of a marriage slowed down? Maybe it's not Peter the problem but me? I don't have to go, but I want to go?
My mind comes back for the mad honking. The people behind me don't understand why I'm standing in the middle of the road. The middle of the road - I realize that from here I can still turn back. I just have to want it. But I can't want it. True enough, I can't even want to continue my journey. I stand there paralyzed. Somebody loses his head and passes everyone by, not caring about the traffic in the opposite direction. He curses with his face transforming into it. I can't start, I turn on my emergency lights. The next driver, when he sees me, brakes and stops in front of me. The man gets out of the car and comes to me. My instincts work as I press the security lock button. He leans to my window and asks something. I can't hear his words, but I see the good will on his face. I roll my window an inch down, and it surprises me as my mouth opens and I say: "I just left my husband." "Ouch" he says, scratching his head. "Why? You can tell me." He looks at me encouraging, and - another surprise - I start to list it. This can only happen to me: sitting in the middle of traffic in my car, and across a barely cracked window I lay out my whole life to a complete stranger. He offers me to continue it by a drink. This gets me back to reality. I can't just go with the first man I find. I want to leave, but he yells at me: "You can't drive like this. I live nearby, the house is big, I promise you I..." Now the alarm is ringing constantly: "You don't think I would..." - I try to jump at him, but he just waves me silent: "Don't leave him, give him another chance!" He turns around and leaves me there. I wait until his car gets out of my sight and then finally I start up my engine too.
Peter didn't write to his blog for days after Sophie left. And then it's a different person continuing. At least so it seemed. But don't go so far ahead. Roughly when Sophie was complaining to the unknown man at the road, I had this strong feeling in my guts: she's in trouble. I dialed her number, but her cell phone was switched off. She didn't want Peter to reach her, but this way I couldn't reach her either. Then.
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