There was nothing from Dave. Not an e-mail or a message on my cell. I kept checking my voice mail for messages on the hour every hour. Without even glancing at the keypad, I could punch in my secret code.

“You have no messages.”

Coming home from work after 10 PM on my second Friday night as a thirty something single woman, I felt sad and heavy, entering the courtyard and making my way across the garden to my front door. I’d forgotten to leave the light on that morning when I left for work. As I slid my key into the lock, my leg hit something on the ground resting against the door. When I bent down, my hand hit a large paper shopping bag with woven handles. My heart skipped faster. Maybe it was a present or flowers. Maybe Dave did feel regret. I was surprised by the weight of the bag as I opened the door and carried it inside.

Lucy watched me in the dark as I fumbled for the light switch and eagerly reached into the bag’s contents. I peered in, and I could feel my face fall.

Snorkel fins from our vacation in Hawaii last year. Some underwear and two bras. I fumbled around and then just dumped the whole thing upside down onto the hardwood floor.

My stuff.

A small bottle of my favorite body wash, a pink toothbrush, and a few stray tampons. The tampons seemed like a low blow. He didn’t need to give me those back.

Separating all the items, I looked for a note or a card.

There was nothing.

I checked the outside of the bag but there wasn’t even a Post-it on it. Dave had just dropped everything off and bailed. It all seemed like a big “screw you.”

Happy Friday.

Lucy lay down next to me and started to clean herself. She probably thought I was cleaning myself, thanks to my weird position on the floor. She rolled over to get my attention and I absentmindedly rubbed her tummy. She purred loudly. Dave was ready to clear out all reminders of me after two weeks.

Leaving the pile of stuff on the floor, I went to the kitchen to make myself something to eat. When I opened the fridge door, the first thing I saw were two cans of Dr Pepper that I always kept around for Dave. Dr Pepper was the only soda he’d drink. I grabbed the cans and threw them with a big thud into the trash. That felt good. I stared across to the pile of stuff. I couldn’t believe he would bring all that over here on a Friday night. Growing more agitated, I left the kitchen and headed for the bathroom to do my own cleaning out.