Flying Solo | Susan Hatters Friedman

So there I was. Twenty-three long years of that woman. Two kids launched.

Zoe close by at Penn, and Zach at my own alma mater.

There was nothing more to say really. I had been telling myself for years that I was staying for the kids, and so it was finally my time to go.

I told Marie the night before. She had been remarkably calm. Left to stay at her best friend Leda’s house for the night. Surprisingly, her bag was already packed.

I had a good sleep. First night of my new life.

Thought I heard something in the middle of the night but… it was nothing.

One last look around the master bedroom of our tiny home. I took a deep breath in.

What was that smell?

Anyway. Finish packing.

I had no delusions. Marie would make up stories to Leda and all her little ladies.

I did not have an affair with my graduate student. Yes, I might have wanted to. But no I didn’t.

I had landed the job. I’d be near Zach. They’ll be mad at first, but when the dust settles, they’ll know who the good parent was. They’ll visit.

That smell really is odd.

Kind of like gas?

Susan Hatters Friedman is a forensic psychiatrist. She is pursuing a Masters in Crime Fiction at the University of Cambridge, and has studied with The Second City. Her creative writing can also be found (or is forthcoming) at Hobart, JMWW, and Drunk Monkeys.