Snow Globes

Snow Globes

I’m a fan of second chances. I collect them, in fact. Every time I’m given a new one I buy a snow globe to symbolize the event. They all reside in the refurbished Curio cabinet in the far corner of my den. You know, the one I’m too lazy to dust.

I bought another one today to commemorate the moment Alyx let me back into his life. He’s the last in a long chain of men I’ve begged to give me the opportunity to buy another snow globe. Sometimes they’re willing, sometimes they’re not, and sometimes it takes that additional push to their emotional side.

As for Alyx, he’s a pusher. It took six phone calls, eight texts, two dinners and four glasses of wine to earn that damned snow globe. After all that effort, I’d say Alyx is a keeper.

At least for a little while.

When they start leaving toothbrushes and hair gel in the bathroom, that’s when I get antsy. Alyx “forgot his deodorant” today, so he says. But you and I both know what’s really going on. He’s getting comfortable. And that’s when it’s time to forget how much I worked to earn that snow globe.

We’re having dinner. Broiled sirloin tips and garlic mashed potatoes. I made this meal in particular because I know that he that he knows that I know he isn’t a fan of it. He picks at his plate as if transformed into a six-year-old being asked to eat his cauliflower. The typically relaxed lines of his face are extra firm today, extra stressed, on edge.

I’m about to sabotage my second chance and he knows it.

“I talked with Tom today,” I say.

He stops chewing. “As in Tom, your ex-boyfriend Tom?”

“Yeah,” I respond. “He wants to take me out for coffee.”

Alyx won’t look me in the eye. “Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?”

“What?” I ask casually. From where I’m sitting, I can see into the den where the Curio cabinet rests, the one I’m too lazy to dust. “It’s not like we’re married or anything.”

And here we go. The fight begins. I try not to look at his face too closely. If I do I might start up with the I’m sorrys and I’ve never asked for a third chance. Two snow globes for one man is simply too much. I’d have to buy a new cabinet and I don’t exactly have the money for that right now.

It’s been a good twenty minutes and now Alyx is wiping his mouth with his napkin and excusing himself from the table. I start in with the “Please don’t gos” but he knows that I know that he knows I don’t really mean it. I take my time cleaning up the dinner table, wondering why it was I wanted the second chance in the first place.

Oh, that’s right. I wanted another snow globe.