The other day, a postcard came in the mail. Jack took a quick glance at it and set it under the pile. I said, "Who's that from?" He took it back out, read it again (as if he didn't see it the first time) and handed it to me. "Peta."
"Hello, Gorgeous!" She was in some exotic locale, and she told Jack it was time to "go beyond Jamaica" and that she hoped to see him soon.
Of course I cried all night, reliving it all, and being angry I couldn't do anything to stop her from these occasional notes.
But of course I wondered if something was up, too. So I went to check his AOL email. He put a double lock on it. I can't check it without his cooperation.
I don't think I'm wrong to be upset about that. He had promised me full access.
He claims he can't get his AOL mail on his phone, but I know that's not true because I have it on mine. I checked his gmail account, and it is shocking pristine -- trash emptied, spam emptied.
I hate feeling this way.
