“You have to admit, this is a little odd,” I said to Theo as he peered at their house, so similar to ours. “If they have gold-leaf paisley wallpaper in their powder room, we’re leaving.”
He tipped his head back and laughed as he reached for my hand.
That visit with Rick and Laura kicked off a hopeful time for me. They had welcomed us into their home and shared their coping strategies, describing how to create a safe environment and a safety plan and tips on recognizing triggers. Their infectious laughter and obvious love for one another, their lives, their children, and their home made me walk away from the meeting with a new sense of purpose and vigor.
And here I was, reminiscing about all that happiness—that which we didn’t have.
The picture of Theo gracing my desk caught my eye, and I leaned back in my office chair, thinking about all I had learned since then, all the phases Theo had gone through, most of them predictable, some of them not. But if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that PTSD could be tricky. Some days, Theo seemed fine; others, he did not. Some days his anger barely simmered; other days, it boiled. And then there were days where he looked as though his tether to life had thinned, desperately.
Despite having Rick Sullivan as a good role model, Theo hadn’t risen to the challenge placed before him as well as Rick had. The Theo I left that morning, the one who barely lived—he wasn’t the same anymore. Sure, he still had good days when his humorous and gentle side surfaced, like we’d seen on Father’s Day. But other times, he seemed far more depressed than I would have expected. He didn’t hold a consistent positive attitude, like Rick. What I’d seen in his eyes sometimes in the evening—I knew what it was. Theo was losing the fight. Taking up the battle wasn’t in his makeup, or there was something he detected in me—that floundering perhaps. If he found out about me and my fascination with Andrew...what would happen to him or to us?
Chapter 14: Theo
The burgers at the Kennedy Grill used to be my favorite until I came back from Afghanistan. At that point, the thought of eating meat was too much, most likely because the charred flesh once possessed a true life, a potential that hadn’t been realized, unless sitting on a plate waiting to be devoured counted as potential. Sadie would have said plants have souls too. No surprise here: I didn’t buy it.
But the smell of the place made my mouth water in a way it hadn’t in a long time—the aroma of peppers, garlic, and cumin hung in the air. I glanced around the place, my gaze landing first on the metal salt and pepper shakers, then the silverware against the white napkins. Location never mattered: targeting anything metal seemed to be my new superpower. Soft music—something unidentifiable but appealing to Sadie—filtered through the speakers.
My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text.
Found a booth in the back.
I wound around the bar and down two stairs where Andrew waited. He tipped his head back in a manner I was beginning to view as “Andrew style.” Doc would be glad I’d noticed something that made him stand out from all the other people I encountered during my day. “Means you’re not always focused inwardly,” she’d say.
Hesitation made me pause, a slight worry the blinking neon sign affixed to the ceiling at the edge of the bar would trigger something in me, so I chose a seat with my back to the sign. It put me right across from Andrew, who, in the darker lighting of the bar, recalled Liam, the friend I’d lost. I’d been around Doc enough to understand maybe I was holding onto Andrew as a way not to forget Liam. If that was true, why was I holding onto Sadie?
Andrew didn’t know about Sadie though, and he had no reason to. I pulled a menu toward me, hoping he said nothing about the bandages on my hands. Doc’s voice rang in my ears: “You can get away with a hell of a lot if you keep those manners intact.” If anyone had told me I’d be seeing a therapist who placed so much emphasis on manners, I’d have called them crazy. Of course, I never thought I’d end up seeing a therapist either. Sometimes, life was cruel.
“Did you already look at the menu?” I held one out to him.
His gaze flicked to the bandages and then back to my face. “As sad as this sounds, I get the same thing every time I come here.”
“Why is that sad?” The plastic edge of the laminated menu grated against my fingertips.
“Makes me remember how old I am, how set in my ways. You’d think I would live a little from time to time, but not when it comes to my burger.”
“Ha! There’s a T-shirt for you,” I said. “Never come between a man and his burger?”
“Did someone actually say that? That Guy guy, right? The one on television, goes and eats a lot, and his hair...Guy Ferrari! He’d say something like that.”
“You mean Fieri. I used to have a friend who loved that show.” Liam. Somehow, thoughts of him came up every time Andrew was around. “So, I haven’t been here in a while. Any thoughts about what else might be worthwhile? I’m not eating too much red meat these days.”
“Any reason why not? You look as healthy as a horse.”
If Andrew knew the state of my brain, he wouldn’t be saying that. But my body did look healthy—with the exception of my hands. “Nah, no reason, other than I enjoy chicken and fish better.”
“Then go with the fish and chips. They are good, if you’re not afraid of a little grease.”
“Sounds good.” I placed the menu on the table. “So where are the kids tonight?”
“At Grandma’s house. Yes, it’s a weeknight, but the kids love my ex’s mom and go to bed fine for her. I’ll get them in the morning and take them to school. Works out well for me to get a break.”
“A break. Do the kids live with you full-time?”
The more information I had, the better prepared I would be if I signed those damn papers and moved out. Part of my reasoning for delaying involved the kids. I hadn’t done much right in my life, but those three...
“Yes and no. They split time between two houses, but we live less than a mile apart, and we have two sets of everything. A bit of an expense, but it works for us. Makes the best of a shitty situation.”
Andrew had no idea what he’d touched on with his “shitty situation” comment. While I once believed living together but not being together would be easy, our situation had turned not only shitty but also fucked-up. Sadie wanted little to do with me, and I’d become confused about my future, our future.
“Yep, I get it.”
After placing our orders with the server, Andrew shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the chair. “What about you? Kids? Wife?”
How much to tell? “Yes to the kids, and it’s complicated to the wife. We’re at a point that, well, we’re fine, but fine isn’t what either of us want.”
“Fair enough. Moving on?”
I nodded my head. “Moving on.”
Andrew and I chatted and whittled away the time. We spoke about the responsibilities of owning a business, the monotony of jobs in general, and the antics of our kids, though I was careful not to name mine. Somehow, being a dad changed my outlook. I never would have thought I’d be exchanging stories like I’d heard moms do, but there we were, swapping memories like we were showing off scars or tattoos. Against the backdrop of laughter and a news program, we covered a lot of ground, and I made sure to stay on this side of vague. He didn’t need details about the PTSD or my trips to see Doc.
“So how long have you been divorced?” I asked.
“Going on three years.”
“And how is that? I mean, I never thought I’d get married much less divorced, and now—well, how is it?”
Andrew didn’t pry; he answered the question between bites of his burger, which, I had to say, looked all right. The f
ish and chips were tasty; almost as good as Sadie’s.
“It was difficult at first—my kids mean the world to me,” he said. “But owning my company helps—when I need to take time off, I can. And my relationship with my ex-wife is as amicable as it can be. Now, I haven’t dated anyone yet, but I’m sure that would change things.”
Dating was a topic I had no intention of touching with Andrew. This wasn’t some Hallmark movie. But the redness of his face told me something. Like there was someone he was interested in. And that thought had me picturing Sadie and her smile and the way I used to be the luckiest man alive, and the spiral swirled from there: my incessant fury at the station I held in life, my inability to do the job I had trained long and hard to do, the extreme probability my home life would be changing sooner rather than later. It was all too much.
“Andrew, you know what? I’m not feeling great right now, so I’m going to head out.” I grabbed my check and left a tip on the table. “But let’s chat if another project comes up, if that’s good for you.”
“Sure thing. Hope you’re all right.” Once more, his gaze darted to my hands.
The din of the silverware against the plates and the incessant chattering of the diners chipped away at my nerves. “I will be. Lots of long days lately. Thanks for meeting up with me.”
Andrew tipped his chin up. “Anytime. I’m sure you’ll be okay soon.”
I would be okay; deep inside my brain I trusted that. But what would make everything else okay? And, I wanted more than the word “okay” to describe my life.
Chapter 15: Sadie
Talking to Theo that evening took top priority on my to-do list, after washing the dishes and putting the kids to bed. Usually, we had a couple hours to sit with each other. When we were still together, we’d watch a movie, read poetry to each other, or even play card games until we knew the kids were asleep, and then we’d sneak up the stairs, giggling like young lovers, barely making it to the bedroom before we removed each other’s clothing and became lost in one another.
Times had changed. I crept toward the back room, expecting to encounter Theo in the recliner, watching one sport or another, but instead, he sprawled on the couch, fast asleep, bandages on his hands. He hadn’t been home at dinnertime; I had no idea how his day had gone or what he’d done to drain his energy, but those bandages...they spoke volumes.
After turning off the television, I sat next to him, taking care not to wake him, and looked at him in his moment of peace. When he slept, he resembled a child, like the Theo I first met. The dark shadows under his eyes and the light stubble on his chin weren’t as apparent in the muted lighting of the family room, and his eyes shifted underneath his eyelids. Was he dreaming, and if so, about what? Did he envision images of his former self? Or was he dreaming of what was to come? Pleasant dreams would be better than nightmares, but I wasn’t sure he’d tell me if I asked him.
I reached for Theo’s hand and placed my cool fingers into his lukewarm ones. His grip tightened reflexively against mine, and for a moment, a connection tethered us. Tears formed at the back of my eyes, and I clenched my eyelids shut, willing the tears away, uttering a silent wish that the strength to do what was right might infuse me. Amid my murmurs to myself, Theo woke up and blinked his eyes.
“Hey,” he whispered, attempting to grip my hand even tighter.
“Hey,” I said back to him. “We need to talk about what happened this morning, don’t you think? And this?” I lifted his hand between us.
“Yeah.” Theo shifted against the couch, straining to move himself into a sitting position, never letting go of my hand. He pulled me close to his body, my head up against his shoulder, and his thumb traced circles against my palm. We sat like that for a minute before he nudged me and said, “I’m sorry, Sadie.”
“For what exactly?” I asked.
“For everything, really, but especially my attitude this morning. I know what you have on your plate. I see what you do around here for the kids, for me. And it breaks my heart I’m not helping more. I didn’t sign up for this, and you certainly didn’t, either.”
Sitting so close to his shoulder provided a whiff of the laundry detergent scent still clinging to his shirt. The aroma did nothing to soothe my somewhat frayed nerves as flashes of Andrew flared before my eyes.
“You’re forgiven. This is difficult for you...you want to do what you used to do and can’t sometimes.” I turned toward him and caught his chin in my free hand. “But you and I both have to stop looking at you as broken. You aren’t what you once were, that’s true. There are plenty of other things you can be though. Have you thought of that? How can you make the best of this situation? How can we make the best of it? Think of Rick and Laura, please. You need to stop looking at what’s going on as a life sentence and start living with it. If not for me, then for Charlie, Delia, and Lexie.”
Throwing out the child card might be unfair, but the topic would hit home. Theo had always wanted a gaggle of children. His PTSD and our impending divorce had put a stop to that plan.
“It’s hard, Sadie. More difficult than I can articulate. I saw what depression did to my dad, and here I am going through something similar.” He clenched a bandaged fist against his thigh. “I should have learned how to accept this state by now. I’ve read the literature. Shouldn’t I have known?” He placed his head into his hands and soon, his shoulders heaved, and his breath stuttered.
His predicament sat front and center in my mind as I embraced him with the singular hope a simple gesture would help ease some of the pain. But as I lay my head against his and touched his tender fingers, my predicament pushed his away from the front of the line: caught between a love that might be and a love that wasn’t anymore. Had I ignored what was coming? Shouldn’t I have known?
. . . . .
Theo rarely showed his vulnerable side. Almost never, in fact. Which gave me a lot to think about over the ensuing weeks and reaffirmed I had an issue on my hands. Theo still needed help, and if I could, I would give it to him. And that meant anything with Andrew would have to wait. Yet, I still pulled out Andrew’s number, entered it into my contact list, and sent a quick text.
As August’s blanket of humidity led into a cooler September climate, two things happened: one, Theo put forth his best effort in being dad and housemate; and two, I did my best to avoid Andrew. At least in person.
Early fall barbecues at Jackie’s did not become a part of my schedule, and Brooke took over most of the weekly grocery shopping. When Kate and I met briefly for coffee, usually at her or my house, my focus stuck to the buzz of school news and inane stories about her job. But that didn’t mean Andrew was far from my mind. Thoughts about him emerged at the most unexpected times: when I was running, cleaning the toilet, changing the sheets. That last task always brought my thoughts to Andrew. Go figure. And that phone of mine Theo hated so much? It tethered Andrew and me. Daily texts became the norm.
But somehow, despite my great attempts to avoid him around town, we ran into each other all over the metro area. We exchanged brief hellos at Breaking Bread (time to find a new coffee shop), in the checkout line at Grocer Jim’s (what was it with the grocery stores?), and in the lobby of the Dominion Theatre (a place we rarely visited) on a sunny, pleasant, Sunday afternoon, among other places.
Each encounter made me recall my conversation with Kate, and her voice resonated throughout my thoughts as I conducted my daily business: Stop thinking of Theo or the family or anyone else who might play a role in your life at this moment and rewrite the stars, Sadie. What is good for you?
Fighting a war against myself and my feelings for Andrew and scrabbling to find something to hold on to took center stage at times. And why? Hadn’t Theo and I decided to divorce? What was binding me to him? Fear? Guilt?
As of that moment, Theo knew nothing about what had happened on Father’s Day at Bloom Market. And even though I’d spent little alone time with Andrew, getting the scoop on who he was and what he wanted out of life, an entity of him grew in my head. My body yearned for the man I’d built up based on text conversations, but what information did I have about him? What side of the bed did he sleep on or what brand of toothpaste did he use? Did he wear boxers or briefs? (My thought: boxer briefs, the topic had never arisen, sadly.) Which way did he lean politically, how did he feel about social justice issues, and what sort of role did science play, or not, in his life?
These were all things I wanted to find out, and why shouldn’t I?
But what about those things I did know? His life as a business associate, his relationship with his ex-wife and kids, his willingness to volunteer for the parks and rec department at a moment’s notice. And our random chats sometimes turned into marathon talk sessions, where one of us looked at the clock and begged off, saying we had things to do and “really should go.” Those sessions had revealed a lot about Andrew. A lot about what I liked about him. A lot about who he was. A lot about where we could go.
That consideration came at me full force one afternoon toward mid-September when I ducked out of work early to get Lexie to the pediatrician’s office.
“What are the chances our children would be sick at the same time?” Andrew’s voice echoed behind me as I stood in front of the receptionist. “And in September? December, I can understand. But summertime just ended...it’s fate.” Turning to face him, I hoped the heat flooding my cheeks wasn’t noticeable.
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