“You have no idea.” The look on his face indicated he stunned himself with the statement, as if he hadn’t meant to be so honest in his reply.
I chuckled. “But no, I’m not crying for my parents. It’s that I don’t want to end up the way they did.” A fresh round of tears began its trek down my already warm and tight cheeks.
Andrew passed me another tissue, a soft smile warming his face. “But you said it, Sadie. You won’t. You have friends and are willing to make more.”
“Yes, except my mind doesn’t stop at that juncture. I always go the extra mile. And so, when I say my parents didn’t take care of themselves by way of making friends, I can stretch that to their marriage and how they didn’t take care of themselves there, either. My parents’ marriage...well...from my point of view, it wasn’t the best fit. And that right there is something I understand. Sitting here, I look at you and what we have the potential for.” I sniffed, almost choking on my next words. “And I’d rather have that than what I’ve got. That is why I’m crying.” My honesty surprised even me, and I lowered my head, ashamed and confused.
Andrew took my fingers in his and held on tightly. The warmth of his hands spread across my skin, throughout my body, to my brain, where the heat tried to soothe my soul. There were no words to ameliorate the situation—we both knew it—and I was grateful when he didn’t even try to say anything to make me feel better.
Chapter 29: Theo
“Why did you choose not to tell Sadie what Charlie told you about her and Andrew? What purpose did that serve?” Doc’s voice over the phone sounded the way it did in person. Nonthreatening and kind, something I needed to hear. I sat in the wing-backed chair, staring out at the choppy waves on the lake. Despite the mindfulness experience from a few days ago, my turmoil still bubbled and boiled, and the day before, I’d woken up in bed, covered in a sheen of sweat, heart beating wildly. Anger coursed through my body. Sadie’s admission had cut me, and no amount of “finding the tingle” was helping bring me back to center. So, I took Yoga Man’s advice and called Doc.
“I’m not sure why I did what I did. Denial? Charlie told the truth, but...” What had I been thinking? The patterned wallpaper instead drew my attention, and I considered it, trying to find my words. “I was trying to convince myself I was imagining something that wasn’t there.”
“But it was.”
“Yep. Come to find out it was. It was.”
“And we know how that made you feel, but my question to you now is, why did it make you feel that way? You’ve been on the verge of divorce for a long time. You’ve hashed out the expectations for living with Sadie. You’re the one who—can I say this?—pushed for the divorce.”
Doc wasn’t telling me anything I wasn’t aware of, and she was right. But her questions required introspection, and I’d never been that guy. If Doc wanted introspection, she should speak to Sadie, and there’d be no reason to do that. She’d made up her mind already. I had to live with it.
Or not.
“I don’t know. Sometimes Sadie and I don’t communicate well. Like she says one thing, but I hear something else. And everything gets mixed up.”
“That’s easy to do, however, hasn’t she been the one encouraging you to sign the divorce papers?”
“Yes.”
“And again—you’re the one who started the process, right?”
“Yes.”
Doc stayed silent for a moment, the sound of the furnace the only accompaniment to the beating of my frantic heart.
“Theo, here’s the thing. I want to help you manage everything you’re going through, so we need to set boundaries and realistic expectations for you. I was wrong by not encouraging you to move out. In a way, we’ve all enabled you to be where you are—”
“But—”
“No wait. We’ve enabled you to take your time, which you’ve needed, but at the end of the day, you’re an adult. With adult thoughts and feelings. The problem is, we’re not helping you deal with those right now. Somehow, I thought if we concentrated on all that had happened in Afghanistan, the rest would fall into place. But it hasn’t. I said it the last time I saw you in my office, and I’ll say it again: you have unresolved feelings for Sadie. I should have pushed more then and I didn’t.”
Where did that put me on my path to healing? Doc’s words seemed ominous, like she might beg off treating me and send me to someone else. She’d been a mainstay in my life for a while. I wasn’t sure I could take losing Sadie fully and Doc all at the same time.
Beads of sweat collected on the back of my neck. “What are you going to do? Send me somewhere else?”
“No, not exactly. Or not right away. I’d like you to head back and come see me in the office. In the meantime, I’ll put together a strategy that might be more advantageous for you. I’ll also say again you might consider in-patient therapy. You’ve been good about keeping the anger out of your reactions, but I worry about you. Very much so.”
“I know, Doc.”
“You do. And I have to say, this phone call has been enlightening.”
“Ha! Every once in a while, I come through, don’t I?”
“Oh Theo. You have so much to offer, and I want you to get better. Your children want you to get better; even Sadie wants you to get better. And I know you can do so. We all have setbacks, and this might be one of those. But someday, when you’ve moved into a healthier place, you’ll look back and understand everything. Before we end though, how are the dreams, the flashbacks? Any more episodes?”
I’d expected being away from my normal routine might throw me into a tizzy, but Walloon Lake had worked its charms on me, at least a little. Except for the dream I had the night Sadie and I argued, my nightmares hadn’t increased—at least they weren’t any worse than the few weeks prior. I had even felt mostly in control while talking to Sadie, almost as if Charlie’s reveal served to prepare me for that conversation. Heads up, it said, which had helped. And Doc didn’t need to hear about my trip to the library or what had spurred it on. Revenge? Anger?
“Actually, they haven’t increased. I...”
“Yes?”
“Who knows what I want to say. Probably nothing. I appreciate your time, and I’ll be back soonish. You have to visit this place to understand how hard it is to leave.”
“Ah, yes, so I’ve heard.” The smirk in her voice stood out to me; she’d listened to me sing the praises of Walloon Lake too many times. “But you need to remember your health is top priority. The longer you stay there, the more you’re running away, which will be detrimental in the long run. Plus, it will keep you away from the kids. Those kids make you happy.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Those three made my heart grow bigger, something I rarely held onto these days. Sadie would say I’d become a huge softy when it came to them, but no matter. Placing the three of them at the front of my mind would be a good thing for me.
. . . . .
As much as I often hated to admit it, talking to Doc helped clarify my station in life. Even though I could be in a better place, I had made progress, right? Anger and depression had always been my go-tos in the past, deliberating about what might have been but wasn’t, and this time, I felt healthier somehow. Maybe the lifeline to Doc helped just by existing—who knew? What we hadn’t talked about was confronting Andrew, and I wondered about taking that route and busting open that can of worms. Did he know about Sadie and me? He didn’t seem the type to mess with lives. Maybe Charlie had witnessed one solitary, weak moment for Sadie. Maybe they didn’t have a relationship. But all the maybes in the world wouldn’t give me Sadie back. If that’s what I wanted, I had to make it happen.
What did I want?
I sat back against the chair in my room and contemplated the fringe attached to the blanket draped over the arm. It reminded me of the fringe on Sadie’s snow hat, the one her aunt made for her when she was in college. The hat, long packed into a box or given away, held fond memories for us both. It had made an appearance on each winter date Sadie and I shared until it disappeared: I had hidden it from her in my garage, hoping she’d forget about it. Sadie hadn’t, and in true Sadie form, she’d gotten back at me—she convinced her aunt to knit a matching one for me. Sadie made me wear it, and she sent a Christmas card out that year with a photo of us in striped hats. I hadn’t thought of that hat in years; taking it to Afghanistan would have been a mistake. No sense wearing a winter hat in the heat, and I’d have stood out too much from the crowd.
That hat had also seen bad days, though. The winter after my first deployment, the hat played a starring role in giving Sadie a reason to doubt my health and happiness. It had been missing for days, and Sadie wanted to wear it. Tired of hearing the incessant, “Where is that hat?” I snapped at her. In a big way. (Doc would call it a major tantrum.) The fear in Sadie’s eyes still showed up in my nightmares sometimes. I had started to question my abilities, my love, and my life that night.
Thoughts about Sadie now caused an avalanche of emotions. What gave her the damn right to walk away from us? What about talking to me about new feelings for someone else? And why would she allow me to live in the same house if she didn’t want to repair the marriage? An itch began in the bottom of my feet and worked its way up my entire body. Pacing would help, so I pushed up from the chair and wore my usual treads on the carpet floor. My fists clenched at my sides, and soon, a deep anger surged within me, and a thumping in my forehead took on a life of its own. Increased breathing calmed the storm: in, out, in, out. Progress? What progress?
My phone rang: a call from Sadie, which meant it was probably the kids. In this agitated state, I didn’t have the heart to speak with them, so I let it go to voicemail. Another indescribable jitteriness overtook my entire body, now full of the need to do something, be more active in this situation. Even in this state, senses overwhelmed, I considered what Doc would say: “Be an active participant. Keep your anger in check and talk to the other party.”
I’d easily found where the librarian lived—a quick search had popped up her information. I hoped Andrew was home.
It didn’t take long to get there, and the walk did nothing to dampen my rage. With each step, my thoughts swam: Whose fault was it? Was Andrew a friend or not? What would I say to him? How could he do this?
He opened the door, an unassuming smile on his face. “Theo? What are you doing here?”
“Coming to see you.”
Andrew stepped back, opening the door wider, as he furrowed his brow. “Are you okay? Do you want to come in?”
Rational and irrational at the same time. A downward spiral of control. I did everything wrong. My anger was so raw, so electric, the first punch to his face had him falling backward, onto the floor of his small foyer, his head landing with a gigantic thud against the tile floor.
“That’s for messing around with my wife.” My fist connected again with his jaw. “That’s for not being a true friend.” Despite the blood, I went in for a third time, right for the eye. “And that’s just because, you son of a bitch.”
I left Andrew there, unmoving on the tile, blood dripping out of his nose, and walked back to the cottage, nerves still frayed and all cylinders firing. Sweat poured off my skin, and I was grateful for the empty house. After a quick splash of cold water to my face, I hunted in the freezer for a bag of frozen veggies and placed them on my throbbing hand. Then, I took the keys to my mother-in-law’s car. She had never been my most ardent admirer, but Marjorie wouldn’t mind me taking the car either. I needed to get out of there. Pronto. A quick note explaining my actions would need to be enough.
A jumble of thoughts twisted in my head as I peeled out of the neighborhood and drove away. From my life. My family. From anything and everything. The scenery flew by, and I’d never been more thankful for the rural life: two-lane roads with a fifty-five mile per hour limit. With little water on the streets, I pushed the limit, pressing my foot to the pedal with force. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. Eight-five. The old car shuddered as the speed increased, and my fury unleashed. Sadie. Andrew. The tension in the almost-moment Sadie described; I embodied it. What the hell? It was all too much. Too much. Reflexes took over, and the car lurched as it tried to keep up with the demands of the hill.
A glance in the rearview mirror showed the lake behind me. I’d left them all there, removed myself from their lives. Removed myself from my life. That was the answer: removal. The tires squealed as I wrenched the steering wheel, barely making the quick jog onto the road running along the river that lay to my right. The river, with its slow-moving, clear water sparkling in the sun. Placid, peaceful. The perfect place to rest...
Chapter 30: Sadie
Based on Theo’s departure from the cottage and my breakdown with Andrew at the bakery, I decided to leave Walloon Lake early. Truncating the fun and disappointing the kids was never my intention. My mom pulled those stunts; I did not. But to gain perspective and figure out where to go and what to do, immersing myself back in reality—which included going into the office and taking the children to school—had to happen. I held a certain confidence in myself, although some would call it a delusion. Releasing the full truth had lifted the burden. Now, I’d put my best foot forward and turn things around. A future with Andrew might be possible, if that’s what I truly wanted. But I needed to do Theo a favor and pull the plug on our relationship for good. I hadn’t heard from Theo for a good thirty-six hours, so I imagined he planned to stay up in the area for a bit longer.
With a heavy heart, I told the kids Theo was going to remain at Walloon Lake for a few more days. As expected, the news about Theo affected Charlie the most. After I had spoken to the children, he placed his hand on my arm and stared at me.
“Mom, can I stay here with Dad? Please?” Charlie said. The planes of his face contorted with sadness, and the tone of his voice, full of hope and longing, hurt my ears. An arrow pierced my heart as I denied his request.
“Charlie, you can’t. You have school to get back to, and we have Christmas shopping to do. This was a surprise vacation anyway. And we had a good time, didn’t we?” A curl sprang away from his forehead, and I smoothed it back while holding my eyes steady with his.
“Yes.” Charlie’s quiet voice spoke volumes.
“But I’ve already put the deposit down for next year. Okay?” A hug and a smile might be able to wipe away his sadness, at least for a little while. He looked up at me through the mop of hair flopped over his forehead.
“Okay,” Charlie said, leaning in for a quick squeeze.
I told him to get packing and then headed to the laundry room to finish up the wash. The piles would take at least two hours, so we’d aim to leave after lunch. I sorted the clothes into lights, darks, and towels and set a few pieces aside to be hand-washed later at home. Something about the monotonous act of laundry soothed my flustered self. I was happy to be doing it and was glad I’d asked my mom to take care of the kids.
When I stooped to pick up the rest of the bath towels, a pair of Charlie’s pants—tucked behind the door—caught my eye. Checking the pockets, I laughed when my fingers encountered a Petoskey stone and a bottle cap on the right side, along with a wrinkled piece of tin foil. And in the left pocket a piece of paper, folded into eighths. Charlie the collector, we’d always called him. If we didn’t watch it, he had the potential to become a hoarder. The items found a transient home on the bathroom counter because if I threw them away without asking Charlie about them, we’d have a real problem later.
A load of wash took twenty-fi
ve minutes, so with the kids occupied and a few minutes on my hand, I jogged over to the library to say a quick goodbye to Pickles.
“She’s not here today,” the substitute librarian told me. “Something about her knees. Would you like to leave her a message?”
Pickles didn’t have a cell phone, and while I could knock on her door on the way back to the cottage, I left a message just in case.
And that was a good thing: when I got to her house, the blinds were drawn, and no one answered the door. Was she okay? Despite my reservations, I texted Andrew.
All okay with you and your mom? She’s not at work, and I wanted to say goodbye. I’m leaving today.
Andrews’s reply—short and curt—cut to the quick.
I’m under the weather, as is Mom. I’ll give her your goodbyes and make sure she has a cell phone. Safe travels.
It lacked the warmth of his past texts and interactions. Was something wrong? I didn’t have time to dwell on that thought.
Back at the house, as I stood transferring clothes from the washer to the dryer, the front door slammed, and the sound of little feet echoed across the living room. My mom’s lighter footsteps crept behind them, then she encouraged the kids to wash their hands and get a cool drink of water. The patience in her voice astounded me, but once the kids caught their second wind, Mom would be ushering them my way. My pace picked up, and I headed toward the bedrooms to check for any more stray pieces of clothing.
A white T-shirt of Theo’s had been left on his closet doorknob. I pushed the fabric to my nose and inhaled, reveling in the scent of him: deodorant and the light aroma called Theo. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I wiped them away and jammed the clothing in my suitcase for safekeeping. I might have made my decision about him long ago, but old habits die hard; that could be the only piece of Theo I’d have for time moving forward.
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