by M. Ullrich
Carla was at Suzanne’s side the moment she noticed her puffy eyes and wet cheeks, but Suzanne wasn’t ready to explain, just move forward.
“Would it be okay with you if I came to stay with you for a bit?” Suzanne said, squirming under her sister’s scrutiny. “Just a week or so, I promise.”
“Of course it’s okay, but what about—”
“Help me get Abigail to bed.” Suzanne started to wake her daughter gently. She wanted her to be back asleep by the time Marty got home. Above all, she wanted Carla out of the house before she clued into what had happened. She’d tell her in time. “And I’ll probably be over sometime tonight.” Suzanne scooped up Abigail and carried her up the stairs.
Carla didn’t say anything, but Suzanne knew she’d have to explain later. One hurdle at a time, Suzanne told herself as she said good-bye to her sister. As she watched Carla leave, she noticed Marty’s car in the driveway, headlights off and idling. Carla shot Suzanne a curious look before getting into her own car and driving away. Suzanne knew Marty was either waiting for Carla to leave or she was scared of Suzanne. Probably both. She went inside.
Marty didn’t come in for another fifteen minutes. Her shoulders were slumped and her features drawn. Suzanne could tell she had been crying as well, but she didn’t feel any sympathy for her. Suzanne sat resolute on the couch, her hands folded on her lap and shoulders squared.
“Suzanne, I’m—”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t, just don’t. There’s nothing you can say, not now.”
“At least let me explain!”
“Explain what? How you decided to have an affair or why you decided to have sex with another woman?” Suzanne felt her ire rise and she tamped it down. She had a plan, and getting emotional wasn’t part of it. She need to make a swift, clean break if she wanted Abigail’s life to be mostly undisturbed. “No. No explanations.” She stood and walked to the door. She bundled her thick winter jacket up and grabbed the duffel bag she had waiting.
“Please, Suzanne!” Marty reached out and grabbed Suzanne’s wrist. “Please?” Her eyes welled with tears, and Suzanne felt her resolve waver for a moment, but this wasn’t about two women and their marriage. Their situation was so much bigger than that.
“No.” Suzanne spoke around a lump in her throat. “My lawyers will be in touch. Please, Marty, don’t make this difficult. We need to think about Abigail, not you or me or this.” She motioned between the two of them.
Marty let her wrist go. “Lawyers?” she said, her voice shaky and wilted.
“I don’t want anything from you.” Suzanne hoisted the bag onto her shoulder and turned the doorknob. She looked back to Marty. “We need to focus on our daughter from now on.” She opened the door and walked to her car. Marty didn’t follow at first. Each word had to hit her separately before she sprang into motion.
“Wait!” Marty called out. “We can fix this.” She ran out into the driveway. “I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly stupid and sorry and it meant nothing more than—”
“Marty, stop!” Suzanne raised her hand in the air. “You did this, and now all I’m asking of you is to think and act in the best interest of that little girl upstairs.” She pointed to Abigail’s window, took a deep breath, and looked into Marty’s watery eyes, and waited until she saw comprehension through the pain. “I’ll see you at her next appointment. Other than that, I’ll be by to pick her up. Any other schedules will be discussed between our lawyers.” Suzanne climbed into her car and started it.
Marty watched as the car crawled its way into the street and sped away from the house. The fight and all the energy she had moments before drained from her body, and fatigue filled her limbs. She fell to the ground. Her knees ached as the cold asphalt dug into her skin. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her muffled wails carried out into the frigid night.
Chapter Seventeen
Charlotte placed the extravagant floral display on Marty’s desk, smiling. “Something you want to tell me?”
“What?” Marty didn’t look up from the computer screen at first. When Charlotte remained silent, she finally looked over, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Do we have an admirer?” Charlotte plucked the small card from in between the stems and handed it to Marty.
Marty snatched it away and opened it. She scanned the small message and grinned widely. “They’re from my mother.”
“That was sweet of Denise. She’s such a gem. What’s the occasion?”
“I had some good news.”
“Such as?” Charlotte asked and propping herself on the edge of Marty’s desk.
“Suzanne and I…” Marty paused and chose her next words carefully. She didn’t want to jinx their future even though last night their reconnection had felt anything but tentative and fragile. “We’re reconciling.”
“Oh, Marty!” Charlotte clapped.
“Quiet, please!”
“I wish Annmarie was here! She’d be so happy.”
“She’ll know soon enough, I’m sure. Listen, Charlotte, don’t say anything to anybody. It’s new and we’re still figuring things out.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last night.” Marty’s smirk was full of implication.
“Oh.”
“It’s still complicated.”
“You may say that, but your smile lets me know just how simple it really is.” Charlotte pushed herself off Marty’s desk and hugged her. “I’m so happy for you! You two need each other now more than ever.” Marty was ready to agree vehemently, but Charlotte ran off to answer her ringing phone.
Marty sat back, stared at her mother’s small gift, and decided to call and thank her. She pulled her phone from her purse and froze when she saw she had one message from Suzanne.
Won’t be able to come over tonight. I’ll call you later.
Marty’s heart and hopes sank. There weren’t enough lines to read between so her imagination started to spiral out of control. She typed out her reply:
Is everything okay?
Yes. What time will you be home?
The answer was immediate. Seven.
Talk then. Marty’s stomach started to turn.
*
Suzanne rushed about frantically, making sure everything was in place and just so. This was why she was rarely spontaneous—the anxiety that came along with getting everything perfect at a moment’s notice was unbearable. With everything set, she waited. Marty was a half hour late. Maybe she should call her. Maybe her decision to not call at seven like she said she would was a terrible idea. Maybe Marty was thinking she had changed her mind.
“Suzie? Are you here? I saw your car out front.” Marty stepped through the front door.
“Kitchen!” Suzanne wiped her hands on her thighs and surveyed the room one last time. This is why I hate being on either end of surprises!
“Hey, I thought you were—” Marty stopped at the threshold of the room, holding her bag and the bouquet of flowers Denise had sent.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Suzanne started to wring her hands together nervously. “Flowers?”
“From my mom,” Marty said, looking at the table. Suzanne had lit candles and set out the good bowls for a lovely dinner of cold cereal, a container of milk chilling on ice. “Mini-Wheats?”
“Yes. Here, let me take these and you have a seat.” Suzanne took the flowers and led Marty to the table.
“Read the card,” Marty said.
Suzanne took out the note after setting the vase down. “‘To my girls, now you can start to mend together again. Love, Mom.’ That’s so sweet, but how did she know?”
“I may have called her this morning.” Marty shrugged guiltily. “So, anyway, what’s all this about?”
“It’s about me loving you and wanting to set things right after all.” Suzanne sat beside Marty and took a deep breath. She reached for Marty’s hand and held it on the tabletop. “Marty, I know I can be difficult and withdrawn a
nd distant, but since day one, you’ve managed to break through all of my bullshit. Because of that, because of you, I’ve become a better person. When Abigail got sick, I struggled with this guilt that was eating me up inside. Every day it chipped away at me until I didn’t even recognize myself.”
“Guilt? For what?”
“For our baby being sick, for having to go through all of that.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I lost one baby, and then Abigail.” Suzanne’s throat tightened. She bit at her bottom lip when it started trembling. “When I looked at you and I saw the sadness in your eyes, I started to hate myself for the pain I had caused you.”
“Suzanne, I don’t blame you. Abby, the first baby, none of that is your fault.” Marty tightened her grip. “As impossible as it is to accept, it was Abby’s time.” Marty looked at the chair Abigail usually occupied during their meals. She let out a whoosh of air, a cry mixed with laughter when she saw Ripley staring back at her.
“I wanted it to feel like she was here.”
“It does. God, it always feels like she’s still here.”
“I hope so, and I hope that never fades.” She scooted closer to Marty and pulled their bodies together. They stayed like that for long minutes, Suzanne relishing the easy closeness she felt to not just Marty, but Abigail as well. She sat back. Her nerves were still jittery, but she knew it was now or never.
“Marty, I need to ask you a question.”
“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” Marty wiped away her tears.
“If I wear this,” Suzanne raised her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, showing off her wedding band, “will you wear this?” She held up Marty’s wedding band.
“How did you…”
“You put it in the same place you always did when you took it off.” Marty kissed her the moment she stopped talking, practically wrestling the gold band from her before she slid it back onto her finger. Suzanne was struck by how complete Marty looked in that moment, with her ring and her smile in place.
“I’m still intrigued by your dinner choice, though.”
“We shared a bowl of Mini-Wheats at four in the morning the night you proposed to me.” Suzanne watched as it all came together in Marty’s mind. She wasn’t just asking for them to wear their rings again, she was asking for it all again. “You asked me the first time, so I think it’s only fitting for me to—”
“Yes! When?”
“Martha Dempsey,” Suzanne continued, undeterred by Marty’s predictable interruption, “will you marry me again and give me back the life I loved?”
“Yes! When?” Marty repeated, this time more loudly.
“As soon as possible?”
“Yes.” Marty kissed Suzanne, gently whispering the same words over and over against her lips. “Yes, yes, yes…”
“I love you so much, and I’m so sorry for walking away.”
“And I’m sorry for not making you fight and for being so weak and stupid during our worst time. This time, Suzie, I promise I’ll do better.”
“Me too, Marty, I promise.”
The two women kissed again, slowly pulling each other into a loving embrace that reunited their hearts as well as their souls. The world around them stopped and fell into place. Suzanne and Marty spent that night and every night after repeating and renewing their vow to each other—for better or for worse, until death did they part.
One Year Later
How are you not even the slightest bit nervous?” Suzanne asked Marty as she finished folding her last napkin.
“I’m just not.”
A year had passed since their reconciliation, a year filled with familiar challenges and new risks. They had remarried quickly on a perfect winter’s day, standing in the county courthouse with Denise and Charlotte as their witnesses. They ended the day with hot chocolate in bed, wrapped in one another for added warmth.
“You’re the jittery one, not me.” Marty elbowed her wife playfully, but Suzanne was less than amused.
“I can’t help that I worry!”
“I know, and I love you all the more for it.” Suzanne relaxed when Marty kissed her cheek. “You keep us balanced.”
Since they had reconnected, the world around the two women seemed a bit easier to handle. They had gone to counseling together and spoke openly about their grief and sadness. When Abigail’s birthday rolled around, Marty had to force Suzanne out of bed and into the shower. They made a trip to the cemetery, ate Abigail’s favorite foods all day, and watched her favorite movies. When it came time for bed, Marty was reluctant to leave their daughter’s room, so they slept soundly on the cramped twin bed. In the middle of the night, when Suzanne woke to her wife’s hushed tears, they had come to a surprising decision together.
“Why did we invite so many people?”
“Because it’s called a party for a reason.”
“I think we went a bit overboard.” Suzanne looked around their house. Every free corner was filled with balloons of all colors, and banners hung in every entryway. “I’m afraid it’s too cheerful.”
“Hey.” Marty wrapped her arms around Suzanne’s waist. Suzanne fell into the comfort immediately. “We’ve talked about this in therapy. We’re allowed to have this. We’re allowed to be happy and excited.” Marty ran her hands along Suzanne’s back.
“I know, and no matter how sad I feel, I’m still happy because I love you and you love me.”
“I do.”
“And you look stunning today,” she said as she fingered the strap of Marty’s simple sundress. “Have I told you that yet?”
“Nope,” Marty said with an exaggerated pop.
Suzanne wrapped her arms around Marty’s waist gently. “Well, you’re gorgeous. Absolutely breathtaking.” Suzanne stood on her toes and planted a firm, enticing kiss on Marty’s plump lips.
“You’re not so bad yourself, even if you are still in your pajamas.” Marty tugged playfully on the drawstring of Suzanne’s flannel sleep pants.
“I should go change, huh?”
“We still have forty minutes before anyone will show up.” Marty felt beneath the hem of Suzanne’s T-shirt. “What do you say I help you?”
Suzanne’s abdominal muscles quivered as Marty skimmed her fingertips along her ribs. “I think we’d be late for our own party.”
“Remember when you told me that you’d do anything for me or get me anything I need?” Suzanne nodded. “I need you.” Marty kissed Suzanne’s cheek and then just below her ear. She whispered, “Just a taste.”
“I suppose. I mean, it wouldn’t be right for me to deny my wife, especially when she’s—” The doorbell rang, effectively extinguishing the growing flame between Marty and Suzanne. Marty growled in disappointment, but Suzanne laughed. “You get that while I change.” Suzanne kissed Marty’s pout chastely and made her way for the stairs.
She was no more than five stairs up when she heard Marty. “Angela?” Suzanne froze. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since their less-than-ideal family dinner over a year ago, and she was all the happier for it. She steeled her nerves with a deep breath and turned back the way she came.
“Mother? What are you doing here?” Angela was standing in the doorway beside an uncomfortable-looking Marty. With a simple look, Suzanne let Marty know she could run away. And she did. “How did you…”
“Carla has kept me up to date with any important news.”
“Is Carla with you?”
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just me.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Yes it is. Now, please drop the formalities. I came here for a reason, and I’d like to get right to it.”
Suzanne swallowed harshly. “Sure, come in.”
“I thought you were having a party.”
“We are.”
“And this is how you’re dressed?”
“I, uh,” Suzanne heard Marty’s quiet laughter in the kitchen. Somehow, the gentle sound helped calm her. “I was just about to chang
e, actually. Would you mind coming upstairs while I do that? Our guests are close friends, but not that close.” Suzanne walked up the stairs and Angela followed. She made quick work of changing in the master bathroom while her mother sat stiffly on their bed.
“You haven’t spoken to me in over a year,” Angela said.
“You haven’t made an effort to reach out to me, either.”
“Suzanne, I come from a world where children seek out their parents, not the other way around.”
“And I come from a world where you defend what’s right.” Suzanne’s rebuttal was heated but controlled. She stepped out from the bathroom and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Carla told me about the conversation you had that night, and I think about everything that was said a lot.”
Suzanne wanted to tell her that their last dinner rarely crossed her mind, but she kept that to herself.
“Finding out through a third party your daughter got remarried was a bit of a wake-up call.”
“Well, when your behavior was so outstanding at my first wedding…”
“I’m here to apologize. You were right, I never gave Martha a fair chance, nor did I acknowledge your marriage properly.”
“Why? Suzanne asked. “Why now?”
“Your father actually sat me down one day and lectured me for quite a while on the importance of family. He helped me see that your happiness is all that matters.” Angela paused for a moment and looked at a family portrait that sat on the dresser. “I wasn’t there for you when you needed a mother. I let my own stubbornness keep me from helping my own daughter through a terrible time.” Angela’s voice cracked, causing Suzanne to grow uncomfortable. Emotional, sober displays from her mother were rare. “I’m very sorry for that.”
“I can’t just forgive you like that.” Suzanne spoke firmly and honestly, even if her voice was shaking.
“I know. I don’t expect you to, but I will earn your forgiveness. Starting today.” Angela stood and advanced upon her daughter. Suzanne’s eyes widened in shock when Angela hugged her. She was even more shocked to find she was hugging her mother back. The clearing of a throat startled them apart.