The Pin-Striped Suit

Photo by Robert Longo

So the ex has taken off for the summer. The truck we shared is now sold. The apartment long gone. You could say the connections, for all intents and purposes, have been severed.

Except.

The suit. I am now storing my ex's suit. In my closet. Oh, and his pea coat. Along with a lamp and a bike that is not only missing the front brakes, but apparently, for which the back brakes need fixing, too. And so, my friends, we keep the links active.

I dunno. Call me faithful. More loyal than a dog. And of course, the fact of the matter is that once you care for someone, those feelings don't just go away. Unless, I guess, you can replace them with anger. Which I cannot. Not for any great length of time anyway. For the ex I will always have a soft spot. And he, I imagine, will occasionally be asking for something from me. For which I will most likely be obliging if I can.

So, the suit. The pin-striped suit now hanging in the back of my closet. The suit I actually purchased for him in exchange for his attendance at the wedding of a couple that we did not know very well. The suit in which he looked quite nice.

Yes, folks, nearly literally a skeleton in my closet.

But I'd rather be storing a suit for a man I once loved–for whom I can still look at and tear up, not for the feelings I now have, but for the shock that those feelings have now passed–than never to have known the man.