“Honestly, I haven’t looked at it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want this divorce.”
Terence leans back, and his fingers form a steeple. “It’s best to settle. It’s what she wants. However, her demands are outrageous, and we need to respond with our own set.” He slides about five pages of typed paper in my direction. He’s taken Gwen’s requests and countered them in a side-by-side argument, in a compare and contrast sort of way. Seeing the list of things Gwen wants hurts. They make my heart break. Full custody of our daughter, the house, car—mostly everything we have—she wants it all, and Terence is countering with a fifty-fifty split for Ruby, sell the home, and divide assets.
Clearing my throat, I set the papers back onto the desk and shake my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Divorce is hard, especially when one party is blindsided.”
“I don’t want to sell the house. Ruby … she was born there; it’s all she knows. And the thought of her having to come see me in my apartment …” I pause in order to swallow the frog that’s nestled in my airways. “I can’t.”
“Think this over, Rory. We have time to respond to the request.” He pushes the papers toward me again, but I don’t reach for them. I can’t. Everything in me seems broken. The love of my life wants to clean me out, and I’m going to let her.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“Aside from the fact that I don’t want a divorce? That I’ll give Gwen whatever she asks for because of Ruby.”
Terence removes his glasses and sets them on the desk. “Do me a favor. Talk to Gwen. See if you can work something out that benefits the both of you.”
He has given me an idea. I’ll talk to Gwen, but it won’t be regarding a settlement. I’m going to do what I should’ve done all along, be the husband and father I’m supposed to be because the only agreement that seems amenable is the one where we’re a family again.
I’m going to get my family back.
Chapter Two
Gwen
Ruby sings her made-up version of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” while I try to tame her naturally curly hair. Her green eyes meet mine as I stand behind her, looking at both of us in the mirror that sits atop my dresser.
“May I wear my new shoes?”
“Not today. They’re for the Christmas party at church.”
“Aren’t we going to church?” she asks, raising her tiny eyebrow. Lately, she’s been trying my patience. My therapist says it’s because she’s angry with me. It doesn’t matter what I say or do, it’s always wrong or questioned.
“Sort of. We’re going with your church group to go ice-skating today.”
“I’ve never been ice-skating with the church before.”
“I know, but your cousins will be there. They’ll skate with you.”
“What about Daddy?”
“What about him?”
“Does he know how to ice-skate?”
“He does, but he’s at work.” Or so I guess. Every so often, I find myself sitting on one of the benches in the park, looking toward his office, wondering what he’s doing. Is he eating right? Did he learn to iron his clothes? What does he do for dinner? Then I remember I gave up these jobs, and how he’s faring has nothing to do with me.
Yet absolutely nothing has changed. Ruby and I still eat dinner by ourselves. I still take her to school, to all her appointments, and do everything I was doing when Rory was living with us. I swear, if Ruby didn’t see him for visitation, she would’ve never realized he wasn’t living here anymore.
I’m bitter. I’m also angry, sad, hurt, and confused. I thought that telling Rory I wanted a divorce would be a lightbulb moment for him, but it wasn’t.
I wish I could turn off the emotions, but I can’t. At night, I lie in bed and cry because I always saw myself with the perfect family. It used to feel so trivial, wishing Rory was home more, but his long work hours afforded me the luxury of staying home with Ruby. When she started school, I thought about getting a job. I mentioned it a few times, but Rory told me to stay home. Little did I know that staying home meant he wouldn’t be.
I tried hard to keep my divorce secret, but the moment Rory asked for a room at the Cozy Cottage, my phone started ringing off the hook. The questions were rapid fire: Did he cheat? Who with? Is he abusive? Do I want to get together and talk about it? One cup of coffee and a piece of pie later, and I’m spilling my troubles to my friends. I knew better, but it felt good to talk about what I was going through with Rory. The drawback is that now everyone knows. No one can keep a secret in Friendship. The looks are there no matter where I go. Either people appear sorry for me or they refuse to make eye contact.
Is it not much to ask of Rory to be different, to put his family first, to put our marriage first? But he never has. He has to want to, and I’m not sure that he can.
“Am I done?” Ruby’s voice shakes me from my thoughts. I smile softly and nod, hoping she dashes from my room before the tears start to fall. I try not to let her see me cry, because she doesn’t understand. She says I shouldn’t cry since I made Rory leave. Maybe she’s right. I made him leave when I should’ve ask him to fight for us, to find solid ground where we could exist as a family.
I stare at myself in the mirror and dab a bit of blush onto my cheeks to give them a pink hue. Over the past few months, concealer has become my best friend. It hides the dark bags under my eyes and the red blotchy spots I often end up with after crying. Squaring my shoulders, I smile and tell myself that everything will be okay, that I’ll be okay.
“I’m ready.” Ruby stands in my doorway. She has on her peacoat along with snow boots, and nothing else, as far as I can tell.
“Thank you for getting ready, but we’re going to be playing outside. Can you put on your snowsuit?”
Ruby nods. “Do you think Daddy will be there?” There’s sorrow in her voice. I know she misses him. I do, too, but I can’t change how I feel, even if my heart is screaming to give Rory a chance. He’s had plenty.
I sigh and shake my head as I walk toward her. With my hand on her shoulder, I direct her toward the stairs. “I don’t think so, Ruby.”
“Why not?” Ruby jumps from the last two steps, landing flawlessly on her feet.
“It’s not easy for him to get off in the middle of the day.” I help Ruby continue getting ready, making sure the bib of her snowsuit is clipped together before I slip into my coat and hand Ruby her scarf.
“Maybe he’ll want to see me.”
“Maybe.” I want to tell her not to get her hopes up, but I can’t. I won’t. She’ll learn quickly enough that her father only puts himself first.
“It’s snowing!” Ruby screams as we step out onto the porch. “Can we walk to the park?”
I nod and reach for her hand. Carefully, we navigate the stairs. I am mentally ticking off everything I’ll have to do when I get home: shovel the walkway, clean the stairs, and snow-blow the driveway. Every day the list gets longer. Thinking about winter and the amount of snowfall we get, it makes me want to move to a warmer climate so I don’t have to deal with any of this.
Ruby loves the snow though. It’s evident by the way she’s skipping through it so the fallen flakes kick up and blow in the wind. This makes her smile, and in turn, I smile too.
As soon as we hit Main Street, we feel the Christmas spirit is alive and well. There are garlands and white lights wrapped around the wrought iron light poles with red ribbons tied to them. The storefronts are decorated and festive, filling me with holiday cheer despite everything, and the carolers are out, singing the songs I grew up listening to.
“Are you ready for your concert?” In a few days, the elementary school will have their winter concert. Ruby has been practicing for it in her own special way. She’s too young to have all the words memorized, but she tries, and does so very loudly.
“Gabe says I’m the best.”
Gabe? I search through my memory bank of
teachers at her school but am unable to recall someone named Gabe.
“Is Gabe new?”
Ruby shrugs. “He’s my friend. I like him.”
A wave of relief comes over me as I quickly realize that Gabe is likely a classmate. I think it’s cute that Ruby has a crush. I remember my first crush. I was in the first or second grade, and his name was Walter. I liked him until we were in fifth grade, when he moved away. For the life of me, I can’t even recall his last name, which is odd since I’m pretty sure I spent most of that year doodling his name all over my notebook and imagining the day we’d cross paths again.
Reaching for Ruby’s hand, we cross the street and step into the park. The loud speakers, set in the maple trees, belt out more Christmas music, while a group of children partake in a snowball fight. Coming to the park to skate has been something everyone in town does. But it was always the afternoon with the church group that stood out the most. My mom or dad would offer to come with me, but I’d tell them to work so I could pretend I was more grown up than I really was.
From afar, my name rings out. It’s faint, but there’s something about a close family member yelling your name that you’ll always hear. When I look around, I spot two women frantically shaking their arms in the air. Ruby and I head toward my sister Eliza and sister-in-law Amber, who have secured a coveted bench for us to sit on.
“Aunties,” Ruby yells as she lets go of my hand. She rushes to them, slipping a little on the compacted snow, and giggles before finishing her sprint. Both women wrap her in hugs. Since Rory and I separated, they’ve been my rock, my shoulders to cry on, my voice of reason even when one of them may not agree with me. It doesn’t matter what time it is, I can call either of them, and they’re on my doorstep within minutes, and always with ice cream.
After I help Ruby with her ice skates and make sure her helmet is snug, I kiss her nose, much to her delight and dismay as she giggles and wobbles away from me. My niece is waiting for Ruby with her arm stretched out and her fingers wiggling. As soon as the two clasp hands, they’re gliding across the ice together, heading toward a small group of kids. For the past couple of winters, Ruby has taken a six-week ice-skating course. The classes are just enough to teach her balance and how to skate forward and backward. I made the mistake of watching her first lesson, which is when they taught the group how to fall properly. I about had a heart attack that day, but Ruby thought it was the best day ever.
“You look exhausted,” my sister, Eliza, says as I sit down next to her and sigh. My hand tries to find my neck, but under the bulky sweater, turtleneck, and scarf I’m wearing, it’s nearly impossible, but still, I rub and twist, trying to relieve the built-up pressure.
“That’s because she doesn’t sleep,” Amber, my sister-in-law, says, handing me a large cup of something hot. I don’t care what it is. I need it, and the heat of holding the cup sends a bit of warmth through my gloved hands.
“I don’t and just when I finally get a decent night’s sleep, something happens, and I’m up all night. This week, Rory was served with divorce papers, and I spent half the night second-guessing myself and the rest of the night wondering why he didn’t call or show up. Part of me thought he’d at least come to the house, angry, and we could talk.”
My sisters scoot closer, and both give me a hug. I need it, but it’s not the comfort I desire. I want Rory’s arms around me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt them that I’ve forgotten how they feel. The passion between us went first. The change was subtle. We didn’t have time for each other, we were too tired, too busy, or more often than not I was in bed when he finally came home from work. A good-bye kiss turned to a peck, which turned into a grumble as one of us left the room. By then, emotions were all over the place, and the stakes were high. Words said and actions taken. Both are hard to take back.
We part, giving me a chance to catch my breath. If my sisters keep at it, I’m liable to shed a few tears, and I don’t want Ruby to see. And I definitely don’t want pity from anyone in my church group.
“Here, maybe this will help.” My sister hands me a white paper bag from the pastry shop. “It’s chocolate. We all need chocolate in our lives.” She sighs, but her life is perfect. I know I used to think the same about mine, but Eliza and Alex really do have a great relationship. When I look at my sister, I feel like a failure.
“Maybe he’ll come around,” Amber blurts out. Both Eliza and I turn to look at her, but she’s staring straight ahead. I turn slightly, half expecting Rory to be standing on the other side of the rink, but he’s not. He wouldn’t even know to come since I never told him.
“I’m not holding my breath,” I tell them both. “I thought … Well, I’m not sure what I thought, but this wasn’t it. I guess I figured we’d last a week apart, not months.”
The subject needs to change. It’s almost Christmas, and if I keep dwelling on my current state, I’m going to make Ruby’s holiday unbearable. Just as I’m about to take a sip of what’s surely lukewarm cocoa, I scan the ice rink, not once or twice but three times for my daughter. By the time I’m on my feet, my sisters are standing next to me, each clutching one of my arms.
“What’s wrong?” Eliza asks.
“Ruby. Do you see her?” Without looking at them, I know they’re scanning the same rink I am, maybe even beyond. “Ruby?” I yell out, but it’s useless. The noise level is too high between the laughter and the holiday music playing. “Oh my God, where is she?”
“We’ll find her,” Amber says, pulling my arm toward her. “Let’s go look.”
“We should split up.” It’s Eliza suggestion, and while it makes sense, I don’t know if my feet can move without them holding me, but they’re off and running before I can get the words to form.
My hands shake, and my heart beats faster than I thought possible. Tears start to fall, turning my already cold cheek frigid. I see one of our local police officers up ahead. I try to run toward him, but the snow’s knee deep where I step, making it nearly impossible to move. That’s when I see her, standing away from the rink with a vagrant man.
“Ruby.” I reach for her and pull her to me. She looks up and smiles. Of course, she does because she doesn’t know danger, only kindness. “What have I told you about running off? You are not allowed to leave the area without permission.”
“But I wanted to say …”
I crouch down, and my grip on her arms tightens. I’m scared. I want to tell her that talking to strangers isn’t wise, but I want her to have compassion for others. “You can’t disappear on me. You just can’t.”
“But this is Gabe. He’s my friend.”
Gabe? “Honey, you said Gabe was in your class.”
“No, I didn’t, Mommy.” She looks at me, stone-faced. I know she’s telling me the truth.
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say or think. I’m not sure how my daughter met a transient, and I’m not sure if I like it or not. I stand and pull Ruby close to me. “Ruby has told me about you,” I tell him, trying to make nice. “Are you from around here?”
“No, ma’am, just passing through.”
My hold on Ruby becomes tighter, even as she tries to squirm out of it. “I see. How did you meet my daughter?”
“Well, she befriended me on the playground. Decided to share her lunch with me.”
I smile down at her. Her face is beaming. She did something nice, and I don’t want to fault her for it. “That was a kind gesture, Ruby.”
“I told you, he’s my friend.” I nod and start to push her back toward the rink. “It was nice to meet you, Gabe.”
We’re not two steps away when he speaks. “There is no love without forgiveness, and there’s no forgiveness without love.”
His words stop me in my tracks. I turn back around to ask him to repeat himself, but he’s gone.
Chapter Three
Rory
The red circle on my calendar is a stark reminder that today, of all days, is cookie day. The day when I’ve promised to t
ake Ruby to church, where we will spend hours decorating and packaging hundreds of cookies. This tradition started years ago, and as soon as Ruby was old enough, Gwen made sure our daughter participated.
When Gwen suggested I take Ruby this year, I didn’t argue. Not being able to see my daughter and my wife every day has been incredibly hard. It’s opened my eyes to the type of life I was living away from them, even though we were sharing the same house. Gwen and I had become nothing more than roommates who passed by with glances, forced affection, and terse words for each other. None of which were part of the vows we had taken.
The other glaring note on my desk tells me that Jerry has moved his annual party to tonight, in the middle of the week of all days, so he could indulge his wife with a European holiday. In the same breath, he reminded me that a happy wife is a happy life, and yet here I am about to make another disappointing phone call to my wife.
My hand feels heavy as I pick up the phone receiver. With the end of my pencil, I push the seven numbers that’ll make the landline in our kitchen ring. Gwen and I talked about removing it when the height of the cell phone craze started, but Gwen said there’s something nice about sitting down and talking to the person on the other end and giving them your undivided attention. I can easily remember Gwen, sitting on the old stool her grandmother gave us, talking to her mom while she was pregnant with Ruby. She had the worst heartburn and would often be up late at night, thinking the worst. At the time, Gwen could’ve easily walked across the street to talk to her mom but always chose to call.
Each ring causes my heart to stop. I’m not looking forward to the confrontation or hearing the disappointment in Gwen’s voice when I tell her I have no choice but to go to Jerry’s party tonight. Only a man like Jerry could do this, change the date of his gathering and expect everyone to show up, and that’s exactly what I’m expected to do—show up with a smile on my face and Gwen on my arm. Neither of which I can see happening. Even if Gwen and I weren’t going through a divorce, she’d never choose a party over our daughter. No, that’s something only I would do, because upsetting the man who keeps a roof over my family’s head weighs heavily on me. One sour word from him, and my clientele goes elsewhere. It’s not just his account but the others I’ve gained because of his trust in me.
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