Mom interrupted me. “Uh, Sadie? Have you seen my car?”
“You mean it’s not in the driveway? I haven’t been using the back door. I assumed it would...”
“It’s not there. And neither are my keys.”
“That’s odd.”
“Did Theo take it?”
I sighed. “He’s not supposed to drive by himself but hold on. Let me text him.” He knew better than to drive alone, but maybe he took someone with him. Mike?
Delia ran into the room, paper in hand. “Look what I found! A note from Daddy.”
Mom looked at the paper and read it aloud. “Marjorie, I’m borrowing the car. I’ll keep it safe. Sorry you weren’t here to ask.” She met my gaze and raised her eyebrows.
What? “I’m—”
“I’m not mad,” she said. “I understand some of what he’s going through. If he needs the time away, so be it. I can stay up here for a few more days—if you’re okay with it. In fact, I’m happy to do so. Lake life agrees with me.”
An uncharacteristic connection emerged in my chest. Walloon Lake had worked its magic on Mom too. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, but if you want to stay, the place is yours.”
We spent the last few hours at Walloon Lake hiking the trail along the lake, swinging at the empty playground, and ordering double scoops of Superman ice cream. The soundtrack of the kids’ voices brought happy tears to my eyes, and I stored it for later, when I needed to hear utter joy and contentment. Theo hadn’t returned my text yet, but Mom wasn’t worried about her car—Lena offered hers when needed—so the kids and I packed up and swept the house. Then, we left for home. The kids might have sensed something, or perhaps it was the sadness they felt from leaving Dad at the lake, but none of them quibbled at the sandwiches I doled out or how few stops we made on the return drive. Charlie and Delia read to themselves and chatted with Lexie in the back seats, interrupting me only when necessary.
At the last stop, I texted Jackie and Kate, telling them of our change in plans, practically begging them to come by sometime after we arrived home. I didn’t give either of my friends the details, just that I needed to talk. It was no surprise, then, to see them in the dark, lounging on the porch of our house back in Kettering. Jackie held a bundled but sleeping Clara on her chest, and Kate sported a bottle of white wine in the crook of her arm. A levity bloomed inside my chest that hadn’t been there before. Glancing in the rearview mirror at the three sleeping children, I put the car in park. It wasn’t too late, but all the activity of the past few weeks had caught up with the kids. If I was lucky, Kate and I could get them to bed while Jackie manned the baby and the wine.
It didn’t take long to deposit the kids in their beds and get the baggage and outdoor toys into the laundry room. A quick closing of the laundry room door served its purpose: I wouldn’t see the mess, and Brooke wouldn’t try to tackle it the next day when she arrived. Jackie and Kate had come over for me, to help me, and everything else could wait.
In the living room, Kate had set up the wine and glasses, and Jackie had pulled in an old pack-n-play. Clara lay there, snug and asleep, and I laughed. Not so long ago, I’d been seated in Jackie’s living room helping her with her life problems. And here she was, coming to help me. The ebb and flow of friendship; I smiled at both my friends and was grateful they’d arrived at a moment’s notice. How lucky was I?
“Thanks for coming to rescue me, ladies. If you hadn’t come, it’s likely I’d be here drinking by myself.” I poured the wine into one glass and nodded my head in Jackie’s direction, a silent question as to whether she wanted any.
“Go ahead, but just a little. I don’t want to have to pump and dump this precious stuff.” Jackie gestured to her chest.
“By the way,” said Kate. “I’m happy to rescue you. Of course, I don’t like having to rescue you, but you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” I passed the glasses to my friends and slumped onto the couch. My body language must have said something.
“Is it that bad?” Jackie asked, taking a small sip of the wine and leaning in to listen.
My actions mimicked Jackie’s, but my swallow turned into a large gulp. “Probably not, but sometimes, it is.” I stood up from my seat. “Good evening. My name is Sadie, and I’m a horrible person. I haven’t divorced my husband yet, but I want someone else.” After a quick and clumsy curtsy, I sat back on the cushion, placing my hand to my head in dramatic fashion. Holy cow, the wine had just started, and already my tongue ran loose. The night could only get better.
We sat in the living room and drank wine by the streaks of moonlight filtering through the blinds, faces glowing in the dark. Jackie and Kate distracted me from my life with topics ranging from the kids to recent movies to the lack of parent volunteers at the elementary school. From time to time, they interjected a question or two about Andrew and Theo and what had happened, and I supplied a few, simple, but terse, answers; for the most part, I wanted to stay as far away from the subject of love as possible. The minutes and then the hours passed. Sitting with friends was something I hadn’t done in a long time, and I realized how much fun I was having. A few minutes after eleven, a wicked thought came to my mind.
“Hey,” I said, “Why don’t we text Andrew?”
“What is that? Like drunk dialing?” Jackie asked. She yawned. Our little party would soon have to wrap up. I wasn’t too drunk I couldn’t understand my friend. She still had work to get to next week and her holiday preparations to take care of.
“I guess. Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“Yeah, until tomorrow, when you check your texts and realize what you did. Don’t do it. For goodness sakes, let’s have some dignity here,” Kate said.
Kate’s gravelly voice reminded me so much of my mother’s, the voice I grew up with, the voice that criticized and made me feel inadequate. Whether or not she had meant it the way it sounded, her words brought me back to earth, to my reality. To the fact I was behaving like a kid, and I wasn’t one. I had responsibilities, and for a brief time, somehow, I’d forgotten them.
Straightening up in my chair, I brushed at my lips. “You’re right. I don’t want to lose any more dignity than I already have. But in my opinion, you’re being a wee bit judgmental.” I held up my hand and put a small amount of space between my thumb and my index finger. “Try walking in my shoes for a change.”
Kate’s eyes grew wide in response to my words, and her face blanched. But I’d never been in this situation before and truthfully, I felt judged by her. She got up from her chair and approached my seat. She knelt in front of me and extended her hand to my arm. “You can get through this slight bump. With my help, with Jackie’s, with a therapist, one who isn’t your friend. I don’t...” Kate let her voice trail off, but she continued to stare at me.
“I’ve thought of that,” I said. “It’s why I went to see you in the first place...thought you’d suggest therapy.” A mist gathered in the corners of my eyes. “I’ve had a lot of time to ruminate about this, though, and now, I’m convinced I don’t want to get through it. I’m keeping myself stuck in this middle because it’s my way of punishing myself.” I placed my hand on top of Kate’s. “There’s a therapist’s response for you, eh? I’m not doing anything but spinning my wheels because being in the middle, between wanting to be with Andrew but not wanting to leave a person who might need my help...it’s punishment. Self-flagellation if you will.” I hadn’t thought much before I said those last words, but they sounded right to me.
“Don’t you see though?” Jackie interrupted. “You’re concentrating on the wrong part of the problem. Sure, Theo has issues—who doesn’t?—but you aren’t looking elsewhere because of his sickness. You and Theo made the decision to end things before you met Andrew
. And, even if Theo didn’t have PTSD, what’s to say you’d be together now?”
The conversation had turned deep so quickly, my mind sobered. “I see your point, Jackie, but please, if you weren’t my friend, would you be sticking up for me? Or would you be on the side of the sick man, pitying him because his rotten lifeline wants to leave him?”
Holding up a shaky hand, I didn’t let her answer. “I’m so glad you came over. I needed girl time, time away from my troubles, and you gave that to me. I’m not ready to face this right now, and it’s late.” I hugged my friends and placed a kiss on Clara’s fuzzy head, then turned my back and walked on wobbly legs to my silent bedroom. Kate and Jackie would be kind enough to let themselves out and let me wallow in my sorry state.
That night, I tossed and turned in my bed, half expecting to hear a car pull up on the driveway and for Theo to walk in. Being there, in the house we’d lived in for the last thirteen years, made me miss him—his smell, his laugh, everything about him. I pulled what had been his pillow to my face and inhaled, trying to capture his essence even though it had been a long time since he’d been in the bed. Desperate for warmth and sleep, I took his fleece bathrobe from the hook on his bathroom door, wrapped myself up in it, and folded myself onto the big armchair in the corner of his bedroom. My phone sat on the side table, and I contemplated calling Kate. She’d be home by now, and while we had our differences, her experience as a therapist had its benefits.
After grabbing the phone, I clutched the device in my fingers, my predicament staring me in the face. Not long ago, I’d vacillated between wanting out of my marriage and wanting to stay in. I’d chosen to sort of stay in, for Theo’s sake, and now, a different kind of vacillation presented itself. Pursue my happiness or make sure someone I used to love got what they needed? Where on the continuum did my feelings lie? I knew only one thing: I had to get my act together. Sadie Rollins-Lancaster played the roles of partner, mother, employee, and more, and people depended on me. Before Theo came back—if he came back—I hoped I’d align myself again and find a conclusion to send me up the right path, whatever that might be.
Chapter 31: Sadie
When Theo and I decided to separate, he still couldn’t admit to being wrong. Or admit even though he’d been dealt a bad hand in life, he’d chosen to join the service and go to Afghanistan. Or admit he’d played a role in how his life unfurled. He’d been that way since I’d met him, but I’d had no reservations about the characteristic. Because I loved him; because he got me; because he cared for me more than anyone else; because he was my best friend, and I could imagine growing old with him.
After Theo started seeing a therapist, I thought he’d become more willing to admit his weaknesses, and he’d let me help him more on a day-to-day basis as his mental facilities fluctuated, not battle me each time he needed something. I naively thought he’d say, “You’re right, honey. This situation is stressing me out, and I’d love to go for a walk right now. Thank you.” I imagined PTSD would humble him and make him more compassionate for those who were hurting. But it never happened. I didn’t know why he was the way he was, but his inability to ask for help played a part in our separation, and the need to be right meant this time away for Theo could be long. I’d have to buck up and deal with it because Theo might take all the time he needed and then some, despite the children.
But why hadn’t he at least checked in with us? I’d left messages for him, asking him to call the kids, to speak to them and inform them he’d be home for Christmas. Nothing. And by Monday morning, two days had passed, and my ire had grown. “You can stay somewhere else if you have to,” I muttered to myself, “but the kids need you. I’m the one you’re angry with, not them.”
That morning, a distant headache and thoughts about how to sever the family successfully joined me on my way to work. I also thought about the kids and if splitting completely with Theo when my relationship with Andrew wasn’t a sure thing was the way to go. But even if Andrew and I never became a unit, this same problem might arise again at some point. I needed to be proactive and try—what?—I didn’t know. Perhaps Theo’s therapist held the answer.
As I entered my office, enormous doubts plagued me. But the plant on my desk from Andrew —amaryllis, one of my favorites—put a smile on my face. And the files on my computer and the monotony of the morning took me away from my thoughts. I spent the first half of the day holed up, drowning myself in the unremarkable tasks that had piled up while I was away. They proved to be therapeutic in a surreal way, and I made my way home extra early, ready to tackle the afternoon and evening with the kids.
But the illusion of happiness can be fragile. Right after lunch, I stood in the kitchen, finishing up the odd dishes as Lexie frolicked outside in the front yard. The unseasonably warm weather had surged once again and being able to send my youngest outside was a godsend. Brooke sat on a chair in the driveway, making sure Lexie didn’t run into the street. Their laughter filtered through the window I had cracked, and the sound tickled my ears. Amongst the loud noises came the crunch of tires and a squeal of delight. Had Theo returned?
I rushed to the bathroom to check the state of my appearance and stood shocked, looking at my reflection. It had been months since my hair had seen the inside of a beauty salon, and I’d lost my Walloon Lake glow, but I was the same Sadie he’d seen for the past fifteen years. No better, no worse, just myself. Why did I care? My legs began to shake, and I held myself against the wall to keep from crumbling.
I waited long enough to gather my courage and then approached the front of the house. Andrew, not Theo, stood there speaking with Brooke, a look of concern on both their faces. My entire being reacted in the usual way: a quick flutter in my stomach and a flood of warmth throughout my chest. The phone in my pocket buzzed, twice, and I pulled it out to check the message. The first, from my Mom:
Have you spoken with Andrew?
The second, came from an unidentified number:
Mom, it’s me. Charlie. The presentation has been moved up to today, this afternoon. Can you get here?
Before I had time to reply to any texts, Andrew was in front of me, sadness flaring in his eyes, fingers gripped against my shoulders. A large, purple bruise lined up along his nose, and his right eye didn’t open fully. I reached out with my fingers to touch the battered skin.
“What the—”
“We need to go. Theo stopped by mom’s place days ago, he was angry with me, with us, and—” The words rushed from Andrew in a manner I hadn’t experienced since Delia had taken a terrifying plunge down the hill in a neighbor’s yard, and Charlie was trying to explain what had happened. My pulse quickened, and this time, fear, not lust, caused it.
But something in Andrew’s face, part defensive, part guilty, confused me. “Wait a minute—you know Theo? What the hell? How?”
“We met a while ago now—at the gym. I didn’t know you two were a couple. Listen.” Andrew caught my chin in his hand. “Theo stopped by Mom’s house, and he didn’t even give me a chance to say anything. Punched me a few times before I had the chance to explain anything—knocked me out, almost—and walked out the door. I stayed silent for a few days and didn’t want to speak of it, even when you texted me, but then...well I didn’t think anything of his behavior until I got notice from your mom saying they found her car and Theo had been in an accident.”
“Oh, God.” I fell back against the car and placed my hands over my ears. My body and soul couldn’t handle hearing what might come next. “Why didn’t she call me? What—”
“Stop.” Andrew pulled my hands to my sides and leaned in toward me. “She put a call through to you, but when you didn’t answer, she went into crisis mode and got help. I’m pretty sure he loves you—still. Loves, not loved. He’s alive. Pretty bad off, but alive.” Always the gentleman, Andrew
helped steady me against the hood of his car while tears trekked down my cheeks.
“Theo? Where is he and—”
“He’s at the hospital. Here. I called in a favor with an air ambulance company, and they flew him over. I’ll take you there.”
Muddled thoughts took hold of my brain, not letting go even with a shake of my head. “I texted him less than an hour ago, asking if he’d care to tell us when he’d be home...I haven’t heard from him in days. No wonder he hasn’t answered—” I rummaged in the pocket of my sweatshirt for a tissue.
“I know. He left his phone at the Inn, didn’t even have it with him. Apparently, he’s been in the ditch for a few days. He’s lucky someone found him and that the weather has been so good too. I didn’t want to tell you this over text or with a phone call. Mom managed anything that needed to be done in Petoskey for him, and I left to come back here. Your mom is on her way too.”
“How?”
“They’re not sure what happened yet,” Andrew continued. “But he needs you. We should get going.”
Clutching his fingers in mine, I looked up at Andrew through a watery haze. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome.”
. . . . .
Andrew and I didn’t speak much as he drove me to the hospital, mostly because what was there to say? And, I had other things on my mind. My interest strayed to my phone, where I first responded to Charlie’s text with a quick, I’ll try, and then checked and rechecked the messages I’d sent to Theo over the last week or so. The thread was mostly one-sided, but an exchange from earlier in the month, before our trip to Walloon, caught my eye.
How’s it going? I had texted.
You want to know?
That’s why I’m asking.
I want peace.
We all do.
Rewrite the Stars Page 22