The Sighting

I see his face in my soup. I hear his voice on the radio. I have two shirts that still smell like him. I even have the phone bill listing the breakup call I made to him on New Year’s Eve. Out with the old and in with the new. He haunts me and I hate it.

For two years we were together I was a jailhouse wife, a jilted lover, and a naïve little girl. Every time we broke up, it was never for long. I’d see him, and get sucked right back in. I was addicted, a Jared junkie.

So, here I am crouching behind a silver Dodge minivan in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It was him, I swear! It was him getting out of the blue station wagon, the one he nicknamed Smurfmobile. It’s been months since I cleansed my life of him, and regained my sanity, but I can still pick him out of a crowd of hundreds. No thousands.

It had to have been him. He had the same drunkard’s swagger, cocky smile, and soft brown eyes. I know it was him. I know it.

I’ll wait here for another ten minutes. He was alone, so that’s a good thing. Maybe he is single. What am I saying; I don’t want anything to do with him. Or do I? ARRRGH! This is what happens; this is how it starts. I think I still have his number in my cell phone…

Oh my God!!! There is! There he is!! Okay, let me put on some lipstick, and straighten my stockings. Darn it! I should have worn the push up bra. Okay, I’ll call his name. 1-2-3…

“Jared!”

He’s turning around!! What should I say? Oh my God! He is looking right at me! He..uh..heh..heh…It’s um, not him. Don’t I feel stupid? I can’t believe I was almost ready to sacrifice my mental stability again for that jerk. I am glad it wasn’t him. Yeah, I am better off.

Maybe I should I give him a quick call anyway, just, you know, to see how he is doing?