No Love In This Life, No Foolishness In The Next Life1
After 20 years of marriage to Harvey McCarthy, I suddenly decided it was time to end this lifeless, dull relationship.
The night before filing for divorce, I prepared a big meal. Watching Harvey mop the floor, I had the urge to remind him to be careful – there was a lipstick stain on his shirt, likely from the woman he’d been seeing.
But I didn’t say anything in the end.
Instead, I asked the question I had wanted to ask for years, “Harvey, after all this time, did you ever love me?”
He hesitated for a moment, then dodged with a response: “We’ve been together so long. Does it even matter anymore?”
Looking into his evasive eyes, I felt exhaustion wash over me. “If I could turn back time,” I told him, “I wouldn’t love you again.”
I thought of a popular quote from the internet: “He didn’t choose you because you were special. He chose you because, at the time, you were his safest option.”
The next morning, I left the divorce papers on the dining table. As I walked out, Harvey ran after me.
In the commotion, we were involved in a car accident.
I opened my eyes and realized I was back four months before the SATs.
This time, I was going to live for myself. But strangely enough, Harvey seemed to have changed.
He not only volunteered to help me with my studies but also brought me breakfast every morning. It was as if our roles had been reversed.
I gladly accepted the changes.
But when we reached college, Harvey confessed his feelings to me. Without hesitation, I turned him down. “Ever heard the saying? First thing you do after getting what you want is let go of your past.”
——
The car accident was severe, and before I lost consciousness, I heard, “One of the patients was declared dead at the scene.”
That patient was Harvey, my husband.
But when I woke up, I realized I had gone back in time – four months before the SATs. At this point, Harvey and I weren’t even together yet.
I stared at the front of the classroom, trying to process what had happened, as the teacher pounded on his desk, emphasizing the importance of discipline.
The irritable math teacher threw a piece of chalk, hitting my desk, “Miss Jones, pay attention, please.”
I immediately sat up straight. The youthful energy of my body, the warmth of school life – it wasn’t a dream. I had really been given a second chance.
This time, though, my life wouldn’t include Harvey.