The Ballerina

Anita Kane

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606 Fontaine Avenue,

In Your Dreams

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Dear Sir,

It has come to my attention that you have attempted to contact me via email, Facebook, and Snapchat. However, I remain under your radar. I’ve taken the phone off the hook, sold the apartment and bought a boat, The Ballerina, pretty name, don’t you think?

I’ve found someone to sail her. He talks of the celestial blue (did you ever use such language?), and he’s antisocial and pig-headed (all right, you’re pig-headed too, so I like pig-headed men, so shoot me).

And what do I find in your emails, your Facebook, and your Snapchat messages but: our relationship, our relationship, our relationship. Well, let me tell you about my relationship: picture, if you will, a desolate landscape, mostly sand and scrub pine; the air dead and still, smelling faintly of perfume (me) and dust (you).

I have taken your collection of sixties electric organ vinyl—sorry, I know it was your best asset. I will play them on deck—maybe in the roaring forties, where strong winds blow throughout the year—hoping that the stiff salt sea breeze will purify them so they can be used with Michael (your replacement; after a hard night’s dancing he always looks as fresh as paint when dawn breaks). 

I admit that I will miss your off-the-cuff brilliance; your social wit; and our visit to Chartres Cathedral (please post the photos on Facebook so I can copy them). Sometimes, when I drop off the stern of the boat and snorkel (we’ve been practicing for the voyage), I see, below the fish line, lying in the silt, a dead man; white grass— undulating in the current—surrounds you, and smoke comes from your head. 

Well, you will no longer have to pull out the chest of drawers, comb the spare bedroom or slice open the upholstery looking for clues to my infidelity (I was true to you, but you’ll never believe that now). It was me who put the used sugar spoon back in the sugar bowl, a moment of forgetfulness. God, how many times I had to hear you bring that up as evidence for the prosecution.

All straight?

Cordially, 
your ex-girlfriend, 
Anita Kane