I turned on the tired Mr. Coffee. Dean got it for me as a lighthearted gift on Valentine’s Day 16 years ago. Once a cute reminder of our simple marriage, I looked at it now with a sick taste in my mouth. Instead of enjoying a warm cup of Costa Rica Coffee, I made it for the man I promised to love for him to enjoy; unfortunately.

When I was five years old, Thomas Moltz and Daniel Jones both asked me through missing teeth to marry them on the same day. When I reached the 3rd grade, Jonathon Young, Ricky Evans, and Taylor Phillips all pleaded me to hold their calloused hands in the sandbox during recess. In high school, Chris Sanders, Mason Nichols, and Peter Mitchell all had to bruise each other’s faces for my promise to Prom. Clearly my life was headed for pinnacles of love, a passionate whirlwind that wouldn’t stop until my expiration date. Clearly…

The exact moment my life was destroyed, I can’t quite remember. The exact second where the dream of becoming Mrs. Amazing was smashed to pieces, who knows. But now, 17 years after not knowing what the word unhappy even really meant, I could host my own show about it.

At the tender age of 19, there was no other world but mine. This bubble of happiness and oblivion surrounded me wherever I stepped foot. I was the “purtiest girl I ever saw” to Dean Smithson. He was nothing special, but he liked me a lot, and I liked his ’89 Camaro a lot. I married him, his car being a good enough reason I suppose.

I was satisfied as I looked into the shiny mirror on my wedding day. I was what I always dreamed of being: a rosy young bride. Nothing smelled better than the clean cotton sheets and the endless bouquets of peachy flowers in my hotel room. Even the Radisson Brand aftershave Dean splashed on his rough neck was tolerable as he kissed my indifferent lips after saying “I do”.

We did used to have fun; I’m not going to lie and say that I hated him and couldn’t stand to look at him from the very first day. Our marriage was okay. But me, Emily Robinson, with an okay love life? I didn’t even recognize this blatant truth as a problem until it was far too late. Everyday since our vows, my eyes have been heavy and half opened. I can’t remember what the colors of the world were supposed to be, everything in my eyes was a sad shade of grey...

After flicking the switch of the weathered coffee maker on, I sat on our squeaky yellow stool and looked out our square kitchen window. I didn’t bother to turn on the twitchy fluorescent lights above my head. There was no need, the sun was coming up just above the eucalyptus in our front yard. I could almost see it.