Giving Shit

Besides being scared that he was losing his hair, Edward Julian Watson also feared other things.
Small rodents, microwave ovens and typically, death.
But most notably, Edward Julian Watson was scared of his wife.

She called, one fine day, at a blissful 7:30 in the morning.
Edward Julian Watson was waking up with Linda and the sex had been good the night before. But because he was waking up with Linda and it was not at his house, he did not hear his telephone ring or his answering machine come on.
At 8:30 in the morning, Edward Julian Watson heard the message his wife had left him, while he was adjusting his tie, almost ready for his day.
His wife was asking to meet him for lunch.

When Carissa had walked away from their marriage, it had came as a terrible surprise to Edward Julian Watson. He believed his wife loved him.
She said, "I never see you. You run your stupid shop and I bust my ass for school. You love TV and I love books."
"Alright," he had replied. And he had wanted to say, "But..." But she was already closing their front door. From the outside.

Edward and Clarrisa Watson had seperated after only three years of marriage.
The last time they spoke, she had called him pathetic and worthless. He had shrugged it off. Edward Julian Watson knew he was worth plenty.
The last time they spoke, she reminded him that he was everything her father had ever called him. She said to him, 'Daddy always said you married me for the money', and Edward Jilian Watson had not denied it.
The last time they spoke it had been on the telephone and he could not believe she was being honest with him; that she hated him the way she said she did.
Afterall, Edward Julian Watson had not gone to law school because his wife had.

They met at the diner across from his work and Edward Julian Watson ordered their lunch. A cheese burger and fries for him and a salad and water for her. When they were done eating, she asked if he ever missed her, to which he answered yes.
She wanted to know why.
"Mostly the sex," Edward Julian Watson replied.
She glared.
That is when he told her he was moving to Chicago and that he would be opening his own travel business. He even ventured, "Do you want to come?"
And she replied, "What? Mommy won't pay?"
Edward Julian Watson had enough money to do it on his own, but he did not tell his wife that. Instead, he said, "I get laid three times a week. What about you?"
And her eyes opened wide. "Fuck you," she seethed at him, before she pushed herself away from the table and then walked herself out of the diner.
Edward Julian Watson laughed. Maybe she would finally give him the divorce.

To Whom This Does Concern

Your brother came to see me last night. It is funny how the years can melt one into another blurred, uneven, so long, so close. He looked the same, save longer hair. Same easy smile.
And Wendy was here. And Charlie was here. And Marty is always here.
And your brother spoke of you.
Wendy and I, our eyes locked. Duplicate worry. Duplicate pain.
But he told us it was okay, she takes care of you well. And we prayed for it.
Later on, I said to Wendy, "I think my heart stopped."
And she said to me, "I think mine did, too."
I went to bed and I cried for you. I felt I had to. Your brother said your spirits were high.
But then I wiped my eyes and I rolled myself over to love. Something you reminded me was attainable, when I had the least belief in it. I would not be where I am now, if it were not for you. I have much to thank you for.
And I will wish the best for you for Everyday.