“Renee.”
She pretended not to hear him.
When she reached the group, she said, “I’m ready.”
Angela peered behind her. “Clive isn’t coming?”
“No, he’s not,” Renee replied with a tight smile.
Thomas clapped his hands together. “Okay, everybody, follow me.”
As they turned away, Renee peeked over her shoulder and saw Clive walking toward the exit. Hardening her heart, she stepped onto the elevator with the rest of the group and refocused her energy on the conversation and the good vibes she’d been experiencing beforehand. If Clive hadn’t come with her, she would have been just fine, so why did she even care that he wasn’t there now?
Because in a very short while he’d become an important part of her life, and the aching in her chest reminded her of how important he’d become. Not wanting to be rude, she eased her phone from her purse and, holding it in her lap, tapped out a quick text.
Renee: Please come get me so you and I could have a conversation about what happened tonight. I promise I’m not mad. Call me when you get here.
He couldn’t have gone far. They’d only been upstairs for a few minutes, and it would have taken him a few minutes to exit the hotel, go to the car, and get on the road. He should get back to her shortly, and then they could have a real heart-to-heart conversation.
He never came. She couldn’t believe he never came and couldn’t believe the ridiculous message he’d sent back.
Clive: Just now seeing your message. At home now. Talk in the morning.
Standing in the driveway behind her car after the Uber driver dropped her off, Renee glared at the light in the window in the upstairs bedroom next door. Clive’s bedroom, which meant he was still awake. She debated whether or not she wanted to confront him, but truly, there was no way she could sleep tonight without giving him a piece of her mind. And it would have to happen in person, not over the phone.
She strode across the grass to his front door and rang the doorbell. She only hoped she didn’t wake Chelsea or Margie.
After a few minutes, Clive appeared at the front door.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he said in a tired voice.
Renee stepped across the threshold. “What the hell happened to you tonight? Not only do you run off and leave me, but then you send me that lame message, which was petty and inconsiderate.”
“Petty?” Clive demanded. “I didn’t see the damn message until I got home. I don’t text much, in case you’ve never noticed.”
Renee pointed a finger at him. “You have no right to be angry. You bailed on me and then didn’t pick me up.”
She was shaking now. What was happening to them? One minute everything was fine—the next, he was losing his temper and they were arguing like a couple who couldn’t stand each other. She’d been here before, but this time—this time the panic gripping her insides tightened with viselike precision that left her consumed with the fear of losing him.
“What do you want from me?” His green eyes flashed at her, his anger so unprecedented she couldn’t speak at first.
“I want a little consideration. I want my needs to matter in this relationship. I want you to do things I want to do, too.” This always happened. Something always changed. Was she too demanding. Too easy-going? She didn’t have a clue how the night spiraled out of control.
“And I did, but I didn’t want to hang out and talk for God knows how long with a bunch of people I just met. I missed your message. I’m sorry, okay? If that’s not a good enough answer, then too bad. I can’t help you. I told you a boring literary event wasn’t my idea of a good time, but you still insisted that I attend.”
Her face burned from humiliation. He made her sound needy—something she prided herself on not being. “I did not insist. That’s so unfair.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts.”
“Is this really what you want? This is how you want to end the evening?”
“I didn’t start the argument, you did coming here in the middle of the night to yell at me.”
His face was so hard, so unyielding. She’d never seen him like this and didn’t like it, but there was nothing she could do. He didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d done.
Throwing caution to the wind, she asked, “What did I do wrong?”
“I…” He shook his head, but no answer came.
The silence hurt more than if he’d given her a ten-bullet-point list of all her faults. Maybe he simply didn’t care. Maybe he got tired of her and she wasn’t worth answering.
“I’ll just go home, then.”
She opened the door, leaving it open as she walked on legs so tingly and rubbery she was certain she wouldn’t make it through her own door. Despite the hurt feelings and the anger at Clive’s behavior, she wanted him to stop her. She wanted him to call her name and tell her to get her butt back there. At this point, he didn’t even have to apologize. She just needed to know that he cared.
But neither of those things happened. He didn’t call her name. He didn’t tell her to get her butt back there. He didn’t care enough.
He just let her walk away into the night.
16
With heavy feet, Clive climbed the stairs, thoughts so consumed by the argument he didn’t notice his daughter at the top of the stairs until he was on the second-to-last step. She leaned against the wall in her robe, arms folded over her chest.
“What?” he asked irritably.
“You need to tell her.”
He and Chelsea had this conversation the other night when she realized he was getting serious about Renee. He didn’t like it then and he didn’t like it now.
He started toward his room. “She’ll be fine. We’ll be back to normal soon enough.” He said the words but wasn’t so sure. He hurt Renee tonight, and this probably wouldn’t be the last time he’d hurt her.
Chelsea followed to the doorway of his room, a frown marring her face, as if she were the parent and he were the child.
“Until another incident comes up. You’re hiding very important information about yourself.”
“Women like Renee Joseph don’t go for men like me.”
“That’s not true. You and Mom were happy together. She loved you, because you’re a good man.”
“Your mother was the exception to the rule. She was one of a kind.”
“So no other woman could meet your standards?”
Clive laughed. “You’ve completely missed the mark. I don’t meet their standards. After the event tonight, I listened to Renee and the author and some other people talking. Discussing book themes and tie-ins with other books that I’ve never read—never even heard of! I couldn’t contribute a single sentence to the conversation.”
His only contribution was laughing when they laughed and an occasional head nod, pretending to understand what they were talking about, the whole time wishing for an escape. Wishing he and Renee could drive away and he’d be back at her house watching television, a less stressful situation.
How could a woman like her possibly be happy with him? What did he have to offer? He’d simply embarrass her or make her friends uncomfortable. They’d have to dumb down their conversations for him.
“Dad, whatever your differences, you guys are great together, and pushing her away without an explanation is wrong.”
“I didn’t push her away. We had a fight.”
“You and I both know you didn’t only have a fight.”
His jaw hardened in annoyance. His daughter knew him way too well. “Go to bed, Chelsea.”
“Dad—”
“Go to bed, Chelsea,” he said in a firmer tone of voice. “Clearly you’ve forgotten, you’re the child, I’m the parent.”
“You’ll always be miserable unless you’re honest with your partners—whether it’s Renee or someone else in the future. Mom wasn’t the only one who could love you, and what you’ve done to Renee is unfair.” She stomped away in
a huff.
Clive waited in silence for a while before he closed the door and then sank onto the bed. He buried his face in his hands. The frustration overwhelming, weighing him down.
“Dammit, Renee.”
He already missed her, but how could he tell her the secret he’d kept for most of his life?
How could he tell her that he couldn’t read?
“Boy, did you fuck up,” Jayson muttered.
Fishing with Clive at Cesar Chavez Park Pier, he spoke softly because Margie stood nearby with her own rod and reel.
Clive knew Jayson would give him the unvarnished truth and he needed the verbal flogging because the mental flogging he’d given himself hadn’t been nearly enough.
Jayson leaned closer and whispered, “Please tell me how you got here. You told me you were falling in love with Renee. So how in the world did you go from falling in love and spending so much time together to not speaking for days? You know what you have to do.”
The thought of taking the additional step of being completely honest with Renee made Clive’s abdominal muscles clench.
“You’re a fighter, Clive. I’ve known you for over twenty-five years, and I’ve never known you to give up on anything.”
Gazing out at the water, Clive said, “Not true. After my injury, I gave up on school because I couldn’t hack it.”
“You know I think you made a mistake then, too. Just tell her, man.”
Clive shook his head. “And deal with her disdain when she finds out that I can’t read? Deal with the disdain that I’ve had to deal with from people like Margaret’s father? No thanks. Renee is an intelligent, accomplished woman. I already knew that when she and I got involved, but the night of the literary event made me fully understand her level of intelligence. Listening to her talk to those people about topics that I knew nothing about… I didn’t belong there with them.”
“BS. You belonged there because she invited you. She wanted you there. Tell her the truth—tell her everything.”
Clive remained quiet, listening to the sounds of the water and the conversations of the other anglers around them. His gaze landed on his granddaughter—adorable in denim shorts, a unicorn T-shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat to protect her from the sun. So happy to be by his side. No judgment. She simply admired him.
But not once had he been able to read her a bedtime story. He hadn’t been able to read them to Chelsea, either. He could barely read the invoices that he gave customers when he owned his own business.
Margaret used to handle all the paperwork. How could he explain to Renee that the reason he dissolved his business—the job that he loved—was because of his lack of ability to read? He could make out words here and there, stumbling through if he used phonetic pronunciation. But he was functionally illiterate.
“Do me a favor,” Jayson said.
“What?”
“At least look into the adult literacy classes I told you about. Those folks are patient and will help you.”
“I don’t know… I tried before and it was hard as hell.”
“That’s when you were with Margaret, and you gave up because she was alive and able to do everything for you. Now you’ve got Chelsea, but how much longer do you think she’ll be there? At some point, she’s going to get her own place and move out with Margie. Then you’ll be alone.”
Of course he knew Jayson spoke the truth. Eventually he wouldn’t have the crutch of another person to help him. The night Renee sent the text, he waited until he arrived at home so Chelsea could help him send a reply.
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
He’d missed out on opportunities over the years because of his limitation, such as opportunities that would have afforded him the chance to grow his business. Something had to change. If he didn’t make the effort now, he’d miss out on other opportunities, including one that was about to slip through his fingers.
Finding love again.
Renee sat quietly in Adelaide’s sunny den on the sofa, appreciative when her friend brought over a cup of coffee and set it on the table in front of her.
“I can’t believe he still hasn’t called,” Adelaide said, settling beside her.
Adelaide was in full Mama Bear mode, which was why Renee was glad she’d come to see her. She needed her friend’s soothing voice and calming words to get her through the rest of the week. The past few days had been difficult. Not a peep out of Clive, though she’d spotted him a couple of times through her office window as he drove out of the subdivision.
A perpetual numbness took over her body, and she remained stunned and confused. What happened? What could she have done differently? But he would have to reach out, not her.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him to attend the reading with me. He told me he didn’t want to go.”
“Don’t do that. You had every right to expect the man you’re involved with to attend an event with you. If he can’t make small concessions, then he won’t be able to make big concessions. Relationships involve compromise, otherwise why bother? You’ll always be bumping heads.”
“You’re right. I’m just trying to make sense of what happened.” Renee sipped the coffee.
“Did you actually break up, or are the two of you simply not speaking to each other?”
“I have no idea.” Renee shrugged.
“I know you really care about Clive and this situation is upsetting, but you’re a great woman. You’re a strong woman.”
“No.” Renee’s voice cracked and she couldn’t speak for several seconds. When she spoke again, she appealed to Adelaide with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t want to be strong. Why can’t I feel weak and vulnerable and tired? Do you know what I want? I want to be liked. I want to be loved. Why can’t I find a man to love me?”
Three failed marriages. Over and done. A new relationship that she thought—hoped—was going in the right direction, over. The common denominator: Renee. There was no one to blame but her, and she didn’t know what she’d done wrong, so she couldn’t fix the issue. Her heart ached for Clive—with his rough edges and macho attitude, tattoos, a pickup truck, and worn jeans. None of those things had appealed to her before, until he came along.
Adelaide took her right hand in both of hers. “You’re a generous spirit, and they don’t know what to do with a woman like you.”
Renee wiped a tear from her cheek. “Or maybe they don’t want a woman like me. Independent. Outspoken. Accomplished. I intimidate them.”
“So what are you going to do? Your first two husbands were professors and the last one a corporate attorney. This man is a retired contractor. You’ve been in serious relationships with men in academia, a white-collar man, and a blue-collar man.”
“So then it’s me?” Renee said.
“No. You can’t change. You’ll find someone who appreciates you the way you are, and you’ll be fine. Please don’t contort yourself into someone else to fit a blueprint that frankly doesn’t exist.”
Renee rested her head on her friend’s shoulder and sighed. “What do I do in the meantime? I miss him, and he’s right next door.”
A single woman raising three kids on her own, her mother always told her: “You don’t need no man.” Because of her, Renee and her siblings learned to be independent and care for themselves while their mother worked.
She didn’t need a man, but she wanted this one.
Adelaide patted her shoulder. “He might come around, and remember, you don’t know what he might be going through. But whatever you do, give yourself time to heal, okay? No matter how good being with Clive felt, he might not be the right man for you.”
“He sure felt like it,” Renee whispered.
“Time. Give yourself some time,” Adelaide said.
17
Clive regretted taking advantage of being alone in the house. He sat in the quiet kitchen, staring at the workbook he pulled out of a box in the closet upstairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at it, and the past ho
ur reminded him of why. The harder he tried, the more difficult reading the words became.
Would he ever get it? Would he ever get past these moments of complete and utter frustration?
He slammed his fist on the table. Slammed it again. Then he stood and upended the table in anger. It crashed to the floor, scattering the workbook and pencils with it. Chest heaving, he wondered why none of his teachers had expressed the same care and consideration for him as Renee did for her students.
As a lifelong athlete, teachers had always let him slide, pushing him through to the next grade because he scored touchdowns or ran for record-breaking yards on the field. Few people cared about his academics when his physical prowess meant trophies and championships.
Clive stepped away and braced his hands on the kitchen counter. Success seemed so far away. The same thoughts flooded his brain that had appeared for years.
Learning to read was too hard.
I’m too old.
I’ll never be able to get this.
He stared down at his hands gripping the counter, so hard his knuckles turned white. Slowly, he loosened his grip and remembered the helpless feeling he’d experienced the other day when he went fishing with Jayson. The longing to be able to—just once—read a book with his granddaughter.
Frustration built inside him until the pressure mounted behind his skull. Clive rubbed a hand across his forehead and let out a heavy breath of resignation.
How many more regrets was he destined to have in life? Despite the excellent work he did, his construction business had never grown beyond him and Margaret. Opportunities to expand had passed him by because of the fears caused by his limitations.
Then of course, there was the current situation with Renee. Another opportunity lost, another regret. He still wasn’t sure how to repair that fractured relationship. Tell the truth or stick to the bullshit explanation he’d given her about not being interested in the event?
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