Creative Writing: Divorce

Decent Essays
“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” Joe asked as he drove us home from the attorney’s office.
Tears streamed down my face and I choked on my words, “I don’t want to go to prison. You said they would never sentence me there.” My clenched hands balled into fists.
“That’s what I thought. Never could I have imagined they would do this to you,” Joe said as he passed a semi. “You heard what the attorney said, ‘For them to find you guilty in forty minutes, the jury would have to be cold and heartless.’ We were all shocked.”
I buried my face in my hands and through muffled words spoke in despair, “Well, we might as well get divorced now.”
“Divorce! What do you mean?” he said, grabbing my hand away from my face.
“We haven’t been getting along and now all we do is fight,” I mumbled, “Three years is a long time to be away from each other, so I just thought now was a good time…”
“Whoa,” he interrupted, and slowed the car, “Whoever said anything about a divorce?” Joe turned into the right lane,
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It was an early birthday party for me, by about two months. Amy, Ruth, Denise, Joe and Diane and even my trainer, Robyne came, along with Jurg who snapped pictures. Joe’s work buddies even came and showed their support. We toasted beers to the future. Amy gave me a coupon for a Girls Trip to Sonoma, something to look forward to when I returned. My friends got together and made sure they had my address and coordinated visits for my incarceration.
Olga and I spent the night before I left riding in her convertible, wind blowing freely through my hair. We parked in my driveway and gazed at the stars, a moment frozen in time. She snuck little travel size bottles of Patron and Kahlua in my purse for my last night home. I had support from friends, family and my husband, a lot more going for me than many women that were locked
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