Separation Anxiety

by Lisa Suzanne

  “It certainly is delightful,” I said, and he took a bite of his own from the same fork he had just fed me from. Something about that was outrageously sexy.

  He stacked up another forkful of goodies and looked at me, one eyebrow raised. I nodded, and he brought his fork back to my mouth. This time, I placed my hand over his as I opened my mouth. Our eyes locked, and something very sexual and intimate passed between us in that moment. I had the distinct inclination that he was crushing on me as much as I was crushing on him, but in my head I knew that I was wrong. I knew that I wasn’t good enough for someone like him, but it wasn’t going to stop me from enjoying the attention.

  He pulled the fork away quickly and averted his eyes down to his salad, breaking that moment of desire that passed between us. He shifted in his chair again and cleared his throat. “Do you want more?” he asked.

  Damn. That was a loaded question. Yes, I wanted more, but I couldn’t have more until the divorce was finalized. And those papers still sat on the counter where Jesse had left them earlier that morning. Where he’d left them after he’d sweetly checked on me. Where he’d left them after he had researched to find them. Where he’d left them after he’d clearly spent the morning thinking of me.

  And then I realized he was talking about the salad.

  “No, thanks. I’m full.”

  “What do you want to do today?” he asked.

  “I guess I should head home and start packing. Maybe fill out the paperwork and get Richard’s signature.”

  “You need any help?” he asked.

  “You’ve helped me so much already. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

  He took another bite of his lunch. “If you need something, ask. Don’t be shy, V. Not with me.”

  I was glad he was staring into his salad, because my cheeks heated at his words. Of course I was shy with him. Did he have any idea the effect he had on me?

  “Thanks,” I whispered, drinking some more coffee. “I do have one favor to ask,” I said, suddenly remembering.

  “Anything.”

  “Can you take me to get my car?”

  He nodded. “Of course. Let’s go after I’m done eating.”

  When he was finished eating, I headed to “my” room and changed back into my jeans and Central t-shirt from the day before. I folded “my” pajamas and made “my” bed, and then I gathered my purse, my phone, and the paperwork he’d so thoughtfully printed out for me.

  Before I knew it, we were headed back to the bar where everything had changed the night before, and I suddenly realized the magnitude of what was happening. I was about to leave my husband, and I was moving in with another man. It was a strange realization. For all intents and purposes, he was just a friend, but there was certainly an undercurrent of something more between us, at least on my end. For the first time in a long time, I felt excited about the future.

  He pulled his truck in next to my car. I grabbed the door handle, ready to open it and hop out, when he stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Here,” he said, handing me a key and a garage remote. “For my house, when you get back.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, touched that he genuinely wanted me to stay with him, so much so that he actually had given me a key and a garage door opener.

  “When will you be back?” he asked, his eyes covered with sunglasses.

  I shrugged. “Why? Got big plans tonight?” I winked, hoping I was wrong but wanting to know if he was heading out later that night to bang some lucky girl.

  “Nope. Cancelled them in favor of hanging out with my new houseguest,” he grinned.

  And I blushed.

  This was getting predictable.

  “I have no idea how long I’ll be,” I said, digging through my purse for my car keys. “Can I text you and let you know?”

  He nodded. “We’ll play it by ear.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, Jesse. For everything.”

  “You bet. Catch ya later.”

  I grinned. “Catch ya later,” I repeated, and then I hopped down and closed the door behind me.

  I got in my car and started it, and he waited until I started pulling away to leave. I felt his eyes on me, or at least on my car, and he followed a safe distance behind me until I turned into my neighborhood and he continued straight ahead to his house.

  The lightness I felt with Jesse dissipated the moment we were apart, and the heaviness of what my life had become without him settled back over me as I turned down my street and into my driveway.

  When Richard and I had purchased our house, we had both loved it. We closed two weeks before our wedding and slowly moved our items in, and we decided that we would wait until we were married to officially move in. We had already lived together in our small apartment, but this was a huge and beautiful and perfect home. We bought it from a couple who had owned it and loved it and cared for it, but they were getting a divorce and needed to sell it. Funny, I thought now, how we thought we’d be the ones to create a happy life in this beautiful house.

  Maybe it was the cursed house that was our downfall. But I knew that wasn’t the truth.

  The truth of the matter was that Richard changed into someone I really didn’t like almost immediately after we said our “I do’s.” He became controlling and manipulative, always working to get his way and leading me to believe that his way was what I really wanted, too. He was a salesman by profession, and the sliminess of how he handled his day job trickled slowly but surely into his personality. He was a realtor, but he was one of those realtors who made all kinds of promises on which he never delivered. He was one of those realtors only after the commission, not after helping someone find the perfect home. He was good at what he did, but I found him becoming more and more of a salesman and less and less of the sweet and caring man I’d married.

  I had no doubt that he would easily find another woman, but it just couldn’t be me anymore.

  I saw his car in the garage when I pulled in, and that heaviness pressed down profoundly on my shoulders. I suddenly wished I had asked Jesse to help me with this, because everything seemed so much easier when he was around.

  I walked into the house and dropped my keys and my purse on the counter in the mudroom, slipping my phone into my pocket and pulling the papers that Jesse had printed for me out of my purse, hugging them to my chest. I smelled the faintest hint of Jesse on them. I walked into the kitchen and found Richard sitting at the kitchen table.

  I remembered back to the days when the sight of him comforted me, when the smell of him overtook my senses with sensuality. Now I found that musky scent nauseating and the sight of him was only encouraging me to move faster to get this over with.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, using the pet name he’d given me. Once upon a time, I had found it endearing, but now… it was a little creepy.

  “Hi, Richard,” I said, my voice weary.

  “Come sit,” he said, waving me over.

  Something was off about him, but I did as instructed. I took a seat across from him, and I wasn’t sure if he was drunk or hung over, but either way, he looked like hell.

  “Are you okay?” I asked carefully, hugging the papers in my arms a little tighter against my chest, that hint of Jesse washing over me and comforting me like he was there even though he wasn’t.

  He shook his head. “No,” he smiled sadly. “I’m not.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, realizing that the seven words he’d spoken since I entered the house were seven more words than we’d said to each other in at least a week. We’d avoided each other as much as possible, and it had been silent whenever we did happen to cross paths in our house.

  “I miss you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  No. Oh, God, no. I braced myself for the predictable words that fell out of his mouth next.

  “I want you back. I want to work on our marriage. I’ll do anything, Veronica. I’ll change, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I’ll be whoever you want me to be. I just want you back.�
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  I shook my head. A year ago, even six months ago, I’d have jumped at the chance. But this wasn’t the first time he’d given me this speech. I knew him well enough to know that old habits died hard with him, and he’d change for a few days, but then he’d morph back into the controlling, manipulating man he had always been.

  The last time we’d been through this flashed through my mind. It had been a few months earlier, and he’d asked for forgiveness after he had decided that what he wanted to do outweighed my opinion. It had been the last high school football game of the regular season. All of the teachers always went with their significant others, and then we went out afterward and celebrated whether the team won or lost. It wasn’t about football; it was about collegiality and friendship and fun. But Richard had scheduled a late meeting at work, telling me he’d make it home in time so we could go together. I sat at home and waited for him, but he didn’t show until 9:30… and he was drunk. He’d scheduled the meeting at a bar, and I found out later that it really wasn’t a meeting at all, but it was a night out with the boys. He’d never had any intentions to come home and go with me to the game, and I’d missed out on a fun night with friends because he’d been too much of a bastard just to tell me he didn’t want to go.

  Little things like that are forgivable when they happen by chance and once in awhile, but this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. He’d let me down more times than I could count, and I was finally fed up with it. It was about that point I’d suggested a trial separation. We hadn’t really “separated” since we were still living in the same house, but I hadn’t slept in the same bed as him since that night.

  But the real key in that little speech of his was, “I’ll be whoever you want me to be.”

  If he couldn’t be himself with me, then we were never going to work. And I didn’t like the real person who Richard had become. He was different than he was when we first met, but, then again, most people put on their game faces when they first meet new people. His slow change into someone else showed me his true colors.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Richard, but I can’t. I can’t try to fix something that’s beyond repair.” With that, I set down the papers on the table.

  He read what was in front of him. “Dissolution of marriage?” he read, and then he looked up at me. “You want a divorce?”

  I nodded. “I can’t keep living like this.”

  I saw tears swimming in his eyes. I’d never seen him like that, and it hurt more than I thought it would.

  “Then let’s not live like this anymore. Let’s fix it.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation after the weeks of barely speaking. I couldn’t believe that he thought there was still a chance for us.

  He gazed at me for a moment, and then he swept the papers off the table and to the floor.

  “I’m not fucking signing those papers,” he said. He stood up, and when I’d always found his height attractive, suddenly I found it intimidating. “And where the fuck were you last night?”

  I didn’t have to ask what had changed in the past ten seconds to make him go from groveling to accusatory. Apparently shoving divorce papers in front of someone who wasn’t in his right mind was a recipe for disaster.

  “I stayed with a friend,” I said, standing and forcing myself not to be intimidated by him. My voice rose. “It’s none of your goddamn business where I stay anymore, anyway.”

  “I would like to remind you that you are still my wife,” he hissed.

  “In name and law only. Not by choice anymore,” I spat out at him.

  “Did you fuck him, too?” he asked.

  “You’re an asshole. You don’t even know where I stayed.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re fucking stuck until I sign that shit,” he said, pointing to the papers he’d thrown on the floor.

  “Bastard!” I yelled after him as he spun on his heel and headed out of the room. I picked up the papers from the floor and glanced through the parts I needed to fill out, my eyes swimming with tears. They seemed simple enough, and I grabbed a pen and filled out my portion as quickly as I could. I checked the box that said that the marriage was “irretrievably broken.” I guess that was Arizona’s term for “irreconcilable differences.” I went to the office and scanned a quick copy of the papers just in case he should find a way to destroy them. I printed the scanned copy and left it on the table with a note: “Please let me out of this marriage.”

  The paperwork said that I either had to file the papers with the court and then he’d receive a summons, or he could agree and sign a paper called the “Acceptance of Service of Process.” I was hoping for the latter, but based on our conversation, I was afraid I’d need to send a summons to get him to sign.

  I slid my phone out of my pocket and typed out a quick text: Went faster than expected. I’ll be back in an hour or so.

  I headed to my room and packed up some clothes for a few days. Richard always worked until at least 6:00, so I’d stop by after school on Monday and get as much as I could before he got home. I grabbed my toiletries, my books for school, and my laptop, and then I glanced around my bedroom. It had been the place of some very happy memories, but it hadn’t been for a very long time. It was time to go somewhere else and make some new happy memories, and I had a feeling that I knew just the place.

  My phone chirped with a reply from Jesse: You good?

  Good question. I wasn’t sure if I was good, but I was still in that tense house. Once I got out of there, I had a feeling I’d be doing a lot better.

  Will be, I replied, and then I finished packing and headed out without so much as a goodbye to my dear and loving husband.

  CHAPTER 4

  I pulled into Jesse’s driveway. His garage was open, and he was in there working without a shirt once again. He turned around when he saw my car, and I cut the engine. I couldn’t help the flutter that fired up in my belly and worked its way down between my legs.

  A body that hot should be illegal. It was going to be torture living with him and knowing that I couldn’t touch. But it was a delicious torture, not like the kind of torture where someone wouldn’t let you out of a marriage just because they were trying to be manipulative.

  He started toward me, and I was glad for my sunglasses covering the eyes that were staring at this beautiful creature. I took a few moments to drink him in, to stare at that sexy tattoo, to stare at the washboard that was his stomach. He paused and grabbed his shirt, and I once again felt the disappointment that accompanied him putting clothes on and covering up that fine body.

  “Take it off! Take it off!” The chant in my head began.

  He continued his trek toward me, and I pulled the keys out of the ignition and threw them in my purse.

  “Welcome back, roomie,” he said, opening my door for me.

  I smiled. “Thanks,” I said, and he offered me his hand to help me out. I took it and felt an immediate electricity crackle between the two of us.

  “Need help with anything?” he asked.

  I nodded toward the trunk, pulling the latch just inside the driver’s side door. “I just brought what I needed for the next few days. He was home and I didn’t want to hang around.”

  He nodded. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Maybe later,” I said, just wanting to enjoy my time with Jesse.

  He picked up my overnight bag and my bag of school books, grunting at its weight, and I grabbed my laptop and followed him inside.

  He walked through the house to the same guest room where I’d resided the night before and set my bag down. “Make yourself at home. I’ve got a few things to finish up in the garage, and then I’m yours for the night. Good?”

  That flutter ignited into a full on tremble at those words: “I’m yours for the night.”

  Good Lord, what I wanted to do with him for the night.

  “Sounds perf,” I said.

  “Perf?” he questioned.
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  “Perfect.”

  “Ah. Seems like language a well-respected English teacher should use,” he teased, and I giggled.

  Yeah, this living arrangement was going to be fun.

  He headed back to the garage and I unzipped my bag, pulling out clothes and hanging some on empty hangers I found in the closet. I idly thought about whether those hangers had already been in the closet or if he’d put them in there just for me while I had been gone.

  I placed a few items of clothing in the dresser, smiling as I ran my fingers across the scrollwork carved into the face of the drawer. I wondered if he built the entire dresser or if he’d just added some beauty to the frame he had found.

  I unpacked my toiletries and placed them neatly in my bathroom, and then I sat down on the bed for a moment, taking it all in.

  I’d finally done it.

  I’d officially left Richard.

  And I felt so… free.

  I wasn’t; I was still tied to him, after all, and I would be until I could convince him to sign the damn papers. Not signing them was just delaying the inevitable, and I would find a way to get through to him. I scooted up the bed and leaned back on a pillow propped against the headboard. I scrolled through my phone until I found my parents’ phone number.

  I stared at it awhile, trying to convince myself to just hit the call button.

  My parents weren’t going to be happy. They were conservative and conventional and they didn’t believe in divorce. They’d raised me with their beliefs that marriage is once and forever.

  But they had a happy marriage. They didn’t know what it was like to feel trapped by a man who had changed into someone I didn’t even recognize anymore. Like all couples, they’d had their ups and downs; but they had far more ups. They were going to try to convince me to figure out a way to make it work, but they didn’t know the details. I never let on how bad it had gotten. They fell under Richard’s spell like everyone else, and they loved him. But I could see through him, and I just didn’t love him anymore. I couldn’t, not after the way he’d treated me, and especially not now after he’d immediately accused me of cheating on him the night before and denying my request to dissolve our marriage.