What happened to your pants?
What happened to your pants?
Posted by cj-LNOFB - Tagged , , , , , ,
"Where the hell are your pants?" I asked the invisible man from my spot on the sofa where I was watching reruns. "You didn't go to dinner in those shorts, did you?"

"Invisible" (the name I've given my husband of 27 years for the purposes of this blog) had just come home from a golf outing where a nice dinner always followed the game. The country club dress code required a change into slacks and a dress shirt for the dining room.

"You'll never believe it! Somebody stole my pants," he said as he continued his walk past me to the kitchen for a bottle of water. "I read that manager the riot act when they didn't turn up."

For someone who just lost his pants, his shoulders looked very relaxed, and his voice sounded almost giddy. My eyes narrowed. "Who the hell would steal a pair of used, 36 long khakis at a country club?"

His attitude became a bit less congenial. "Well, call the club tomorrow if you don't believe me!" he shot over his shoulder as he walked back to our bedroom. "Ooooh, somebody's touchy about the pants bandit!" I shot back.

But that exchange in August 2013 became one in a long line of odd and seemingly insignificant moments that would string together like those plastic snap beads I wore around my neck as a little kid, all pearly and sweet. They would pop off and roll in every direction when I yanked a little too hard on the strand. And when I yanked this time, it would undo my marriage, end a life that turned out to be nothing more than an illusion, and prompt me to move 1,700 miles away from the only home I'd ever known.

Where the hell were those pants, anyway?

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