by Robyn Carr
“I knew what she was communicating,” Addie said. “Sort of. Most of the time.”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Nothing special. I usually get my meals ready for the week, shop for food, exercise a lot, hit a meeting at my weight loss support group...”
“Let me take you shopping. I’ll ask the girls if either of them wants to go along. We can have lunch, too.”
“First you have to tell me something,” Addie said. “I need to know how you’re really feeling.”
“I told you already,” Justine said. “There isn’t any more.”
“But of course there’s more because underneath you’re not so much in control as it appears on the surface. I want to know. I want to hear. Maybe you need real counseling, not just that sham of a marriage counselor who Scott was so successful in lying to. I won’t know how to help you unless you’re completely honest with me. I see women all day long who have been abandoned or divorced or abused and have barely escaped, and I can’t ask them. I look at them and know they’re covering up an enormous mound of toxic, terrifying feelings, but I’m not a counselor and I can’t ask. I know what you’re doing. I want to know what you’re feeling.”
Justine took a slow sip of soup from her spoon. She thought for a moment, dabbed her lips and said, “I’m not withholding from you, Addie. Nor being untrusting of you. It’s just that I’m so careful about what I let myself feel because I’m afraid I might crack. And if I crack, I’m might collapse and never get up again. I have to be strong for my girls, for my ability to support us. What I feel is terror. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone. I can’t let the girls see how afraid I am. All those years I asked Scott for his opinion on something or asked a favor, like would he mind stopping at the bank, or called him from work to ask him what he felt like for dinner, or just called him to ask if he heard some news item and talked to him for five or ten minutes. He draws me as job obsessed and cold, yet we texted, talked and emailed each other all day long.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her texts.
Hey babe, I pulled out that pork loin to thaw. Does that sound good?
Sounds delicious.
I’ll stick it in the crock pot if you’ll bring home some deli potato salad.
Sure, and I’ll find something green. Love you.
Love you!
Sweetheart, I’m running a little late and won’t get home till about seven. Tell the girls we’ll work on homework then if they need help.
Sounds like pizza night. Will that work for you?
Perfect. I’ll pick it up on the way home if you’ll order it.
Okay. And I have some pants at the cleaners if today is a good day to run by there.
I will. Anything else?
Just that I love you.
Love you back.
Addie read only a few. All were friendly, cooperative, affectionate.
“That’s the man who said he hasn’t really loved me in a long time,” Justine said. “I never saw it coming. I might as well have been hit by a train. Can you see why I’m afraid to feel much? Afraid to let myself cry? I’ve never in my life been lied to so thoroughly. So successfully.”
Addie handed back the phone. “I get it,” she said. “We’re going to get through this, together.”
* * *
Adele found the dichotomy of Justine’s strength plus her vulnerability completely disarming. Her sister, the epitome of power and grace, had been reduced to an extremely thin woman consumed by pain. It felt, at the moment, they had only each other, yet they really didn’t know each other at all. They’d been raised in the same house in different eras. The recent turn of events demonstrated they weren’t really familiar with each other’s private lives at all. Their relationship was like that of neighbors who were civil and polite while barely scratching the surface.
Adele was a little late getting back to the office. Nothing was said about the time. Ross actually smiled as Adele entered the office. The woman’s resting expression was usually anything but cheerful. Ross asked her if she had a nice lunch, then went back to her office. For the duration of the afternoon, Adele was a little distracted.
At five o’clock, when Adele was locking the desk drawers and turning off her computer, Ross stuck her head out of the door that led to the offices and meeting rooms.
“Adele, can you come to my office for a minute?”
It was more request than question. She left her purse and followed her.
Ross sat behind her desk. “I’m sorry I overstayed my lunch,” Adele said preemptively. “I promise I won’t let it happen again. It was kind of a special circumstance. I—”
“No problem, Adele. You’ve barely taken a lunch since you started. But I saw your sister, briefly, and you’ve been a little off since you got back. Is everything all right?”
Adele was temporarily struck silent.
“You’ve been very quiet. I can usually hear your chatter with the clients...”
“I’m sorry! I can keep it down! I think I just feel so compelled to reach out to each one of them and—”
“Adele! Stop! I’m not complaining or scolding you! I want to know if you’re all right!”
She was confused. “Me?”
Ross sighed heavily and folded her hands atop her desk. “You told me your sister was going through a hard time. The divorce. I saw her. She looked very thin and had dark circles under her eyes. You took an extra long lunch break, which is not like you at all. And you’ve been very quiet all afternoon. I’m not upset with you. I want to know if you’re all right.”
It wasn’t the first time Adele had been asked if she was all right. Many people did after her mother passed. When she started losing weight, it was noticed and again, a few people asked after her health and well-being. But that Ross, who she’d known for such a short time, would ask, left her feeling humbled. Ross, who had to listen to the troubles of displaced women all day! Shouldn’t she be low on energy and not have any to spare for her now?
Adele felt a tear run down her cheek. “No. I’m not really okay. My sister is having such a hard time and I’m useless!”
Ross frowned. “Now, of course you’re not useless. Tell me what’s going on, then I’ll help you work up a plan.”
“Well, she’s lost weight. I always envied her figure, till now. Her husband of almost thirty years cheated, they’re getting divorced, she’s shattered and she won’t let herself feel it. She said she’s afraid she’ll crack. My nieces are sixteen and seventeen, different as day and night, and they’re having a hard time too. Justine is depressed, not eating, refusing to let herself cry, worried about the future. Her husband has never really worked and he wants alimony!”
Ross gave a helpless shrug. “Support payments are part of the law,” she said.
“He could have worked. He just likes to have fun,” Addie said. “I hate him so much! Justine has worked so hard and—” She sighed and wiped at her eyes. “My sister is twenty years older than me, and she’s always been the most together, successful, strongest woman I know. Here she is, falling apart. And I can’t help.”
“You can probably help if you want to.”
“I would if I had any idea how!”
“Of course you can help,” Ross said. “First of all, one of the most important things you can do when someone is going through a traumatic life transition like this is listen. Let them vent and rant and just listen patiently. You can also suggest counseling...”
“They went to marriage counseling,” Adele said. “She said Scott lied all the way through it until their last session, when he admitted he’d been having an affair—after she said she had proof of it. It sounds like it was going on for a year or two...”
“Not unusual,” Ross said. “A person who has learned to lie to his spouse every day for years has no trouble coming up with a good story in co
unseling. And that year or two? It’s never a surprise when it’s double that.”
“Double that? And he wants alimony!”
“Even though that causes rage and feels unfair, it is the law—no fault, community property. Right now what’s important is that your sister protect her assets, the most important of which are her children and her self-esteem. Nothing can gut a woman’s self-esteem like being rejected and abandoned.”
“She’s a lawyer,” Adele said. “A friend of hers is drawing up the divorce. The paperwork. I think it’s almost completely filed already and should be final quickly.”
“Then other than urging her to get good professional advice, I’m assuming she’s in the driver’s seat. Well, except for the shock and pain of it. And the grief. None of us escapes that, and there’s no way through it but through it. Adele, who do you have to talk to? Because this is obviously your pain and transition, too.”
She gave a helpless shrug. “I have friends. I have my weight-loss support group, even if I don’t tell them that much really personal stuff. I have Jake, my friend since we were kids. His mom was my mom’s best friend, and Jake’s always looked out for me. When he can.”
“Not your sister?”
“It’s hard to explain, but with Justine being twenty years older, we sort of relied on each other without ever being really close. She relied on me to help with things like babysitting after her children were born, and I relied on her financially when our mom was bedridden. Justine helped, since I couldn’t work. We’ve always loved each other, but we weren’t like friends. I was working on my graduate degree in English when my dad became an invalid and I—” She shrugged.
“You dropped out to help at home,” Ross said.
“I wasn’t sure I was on the right path anyway,” Adele said. “My plan was kind of falling apart. It just didn’t feel right anymore. Dropping out to help at home gave me a break to think about things. And then it just sort of stretched out.”
“That must have been frightening for you,” Ross said.
“You have no idea,” Adele said.
“And was Justine supportive?”
“She was amazing. At that time, it was the closest we’d ever been. Of course, I was so needy. I felt like such a screwup and failure. But she reassured me that it was all right, that I should take all the time I needed, and it had nothing to do with my parents needing me. We could have gotten help from elsewhere. Except I was there and I wanted to be useful. So...”
“And you didn’t want to go back to school?”
“Not until I was sure of things. My parents were disappointed. But Justine supported my decision and kept my parents cool.”
“Eight years of taking care of invalid parents is a hard job, especially for such a long time...”
“Once you commit to something like that, it’s impossible to change your mind,” Adele said. “You don’t wake up one day and say to your marginally conscious mother, ‘I think I’ll go back to school now. I’ll try to find someone to come in and wash and feed you.’ Imagine how terrifying that would be to someone who has lived on the fringes of understanding for years. I just knew I was in for the duration. I knew my mother’s care was good.”
“Did you ever turn her care over to others? To home health practitioners?”
“Sure, for an hour here and there. I observed, I was present the first few times, I monitored afterward like a detective. That’s how we got by.”
Ross opened her top drawer and pulled out a printed list of names. She slid it across the desk to Adele. “Here are the best counselors I know. They’ve helped people in all sorts of transitions, not just displaced or reentry clients. One of them was my counselor for a long time. I’m not telling you which one. You’re free to give this list to your sister if you like. A little emotional support could really help. Professional emotional support.”
“Thank you,” Adele said. “I’ll encourage that idea.”
“Adele, I think you should consider that, as well.”
“What?”
“Counseling.”
“I don’t have a lot of time, what with my job, my new exercise and diet program, trying to get the house in shape...”
“These counselors keep all kinds of hours.”
“I’ll think it over.”
“Or, you can use one of our counselors,” Ross said.
“For myself? Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?” she asked.
“How so? We all have the same objective here. We rely on each other regularly—use each other as sounding boards, help each other clear out the cobwebs. I’ve been here a long time. My husband used to beat me, then left me with four kids under the age of ten. I got on my feet with a lot of support from this office, got my degree and my master’s in counseling and have worked here since. Now if I have a problem, I talk to Fran or one of the other counselors. And sometimes they talk to me.”
“And that’s okay?” Adele asked.
“If you’re comfortable,” she said. “If you feel the chemistry is right. On this, you have to trust your instincts. Your gut. No judgment from anyone on that—you talk to the person you trust and feel safe with. That choice is all on you.”
Adele felt like she could cry, she was so grateful. Instead, she composed herself and said, “That’s very generous of you, Ross. Thank you.”
“It’s what we do,” she said. “Getting people on their feet—it’s a very rewarding mission.”
* * *
The first week in June, Justine received an email. Her divorce was final. She had all the finalized and notarized documents saved to her cloud account and printed out and filed in her locked desk drawer. She gave copies to Scott. Her car was now registered in her name only; she had all new charge accounts. Their financial management team had immediately separated, divided and created new accounts and trusts for each of them. The custody situation was left as joint unless one or both of their daughters made a decision otherwise—they were entitled to their own choices since they were both over sixteen.
After receiving the notice of the divorce, she cried all day. She asked herself for the millionth time, How did this happen to us? She had trusted him, and not only had she been wrong to, she didn’t think she’d ever trust a man again. If there was anything more sad than realizing you no longer loved someone, it was realizing you had not one ounce of respect for the person you had trusted with your love for so many years.
At the end of the day, her face puffy and chafed, she had had it. She was done.
“I spent the day at home, alone, crying,” she told Logan, her bedroom door closed.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked.
“Finished,” she said. “Tired and weak and done. It’s very hard to keep from showing my rage—I so hate him for the betrayal. I am going to do my best to completely avoid him. We will take turns staying at the house with the girls.”
“And what will you do when you’re not there?” he asked.
“I have a friend just a few blocks away who has generously offered her guest room until I reestablish myself. That puts me close to home, and if the girls need me, they have only to call.”
“Sounds excellent. Except for still having to deal with him so much.”
“When you have common children, that’s how it is. But that won’t last forever, I hope. Thank God the girls aren’t six and seven!”
“In the meantime, what are you doing?”
“Polishing my résumé and visiting law practices from San Francisco to Monterrey. I’ve met with a half dozen small firms, even had a couple of offers.”
“So, you’re really going to do this,” he said. “Can’t you make a much better living if you stayed where you are?”
“Actually, no. Not as long as I’m committed to giving Scott half. I have no problem with the settlement, which gives him half of our retirement
savings, and it’s very generous. But...it’s complicated...”
“I have time,” Logan said.
She sat on her bed, sipped a late-night chardonnay, enjoying the conversation. They had started talking two or three times a week, and she found herself looking forward to each call.
“I’ve been kind of jealous of Scott, if you want to know. Of his fun lifestyle.”
“So—you were jealous of his time off?”
“Not just that,” she said. “I felt a lot of pressure to earn money and to earn as much as possible so we’d have a solid retirement, so we wouldn’t have to worry like my parents did. I was burned out on the rat race of corporate law for a big company years ago, but I would never have said so. I stayed on that treadmill because the pay and benefits were good, but I was dying to slow down a little. Well, the kids’ college accounts are good enough. There’s nothing preventing them from getting good educations in good schools. What’s left of my retirement fund is good enough for me. I’d like some flexibility. I’d like to take a morning or afternoon off sometimes. I’d like to take the girls on a trip, just the three of us. Most of all, I’d like to build a practice that’s mine. Admittedly, when you do that, it takes a while. But that’s okay. My half of the savings will help me get from month to month if I don’t earn much.” She cleared her throat. “I put in my notice. I’ll be wrapping up my corporate duties in a month.”
“Whoa! It’s really happening?”
“It’s now or never,” she said.
“I’ve always heard you shouldn’t make a major change for a year after a death or divorce,” he said.
“I’ve heard that, too. But otherwise I have to keep working at that frantic pace and for what? For Scott? To make sure he’s comfortable in his divorce? To make sure he has plenty of money to spend on her? I haven’t been having fun for a long time now. And you know what? Scott has obviously been having fun!”