Back to Life

by Kristin Billerbeck

  “You’re saying it was your choice that Ron left that house to Ron Jr.? That’s convenient. I suppose that will be one of the first things you tell him.”

  “Well, of course not. I didn’t know there was a Ron Jr., until two months ago! But go ahead, and look up the deed of trust. It was in both our names at one time. We had an agreement.”

  “If that were true, Hamilton couldn’t sell this house without your approval, and I went through all the paperwork. That house was clearly in Ron’s will to give as he pleased.”

  “All my rights for the house were transferred back during our last separation. Look it up. Better yet, ask Hamilton.” I slam my hand on the counter. “Forget it, I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m done trying to prove myself to your level of perfection. If you think so ill of me, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my house and take that furry mongrel with you!”

  “Is this part of your plan? To get me out of here so you can see Ronnie alone?”

  “You are paranoid! You think I’m a money-grubber, so keep your son away from me. You did a good enough job keeping him away from Ron. I’ll get a hotel conference room for the shower, because I’m glad to be done with the both of you. I was only being polite for Ron’s sake, anyhow.” I clench my teeth and hear the grinding sound in my head. It shouldn’t matter what Jane thinks of me. She’s entitled to her opinion, after all. But I hardly see how she pictures herself much differently than me. She didn’t stay married to Ron. At least I stuck by my promise. Say what you will about me, I was loyal to the man. And this is how he repays me. By bringing his ex-wife back to town so she can accuse me of every atrocity in the book.

  “I don’t care what you do anymore, Jane. But I don’t want your precious son. A nasty mother-in-law is one reason I didn’t want Jake, either! And I loved him!”

  I clamber up the stairs, slam my bedroom door and then breathe deeply. Guilt exudes from every pore in my being. “I tried, Lord!” But I know I failed. Even if I’d wanted to stand up for myself, I didn’t have to be so hateful.

  The phone rings, and though it’s probably for Jane, I answer it anyway. As I imagined, Jane picks up the phone before me and says hello, and a man’s voice greets her. “Jane—”

  “Davis! How did you get this number?”

  “Ron gave it to me. The gallery is low on art. I’ve brought in a few of your favorite locals for display, but at some point, I’d like to know if you’re returning. I miss you.”

  “Ronnie gave you this number?” she asks, by way of an accusation, and I realize this is none of my business. I put the phone toward the cradle when Davis responds, and my curiosity wins.

  “I would have gone with you,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed to go?”

  “I didn’t know how long I would be gone.”

  “Jane, this is getting ridiculous. I have put up with this crap for ten years. One day you’re here. One day you’re not.”

  “So leave. No one’s holding a gun to your head.”

  “Then, you could claim I left, just like you knew I would.”

  “Spare me the dramatics, Davis. If you want to leave, leave. If you want to stay, stay. Our relationship is based on trust.”

  “In that I can trust you to run when the going gets difficult, you mean? You never answered my question. I see you left the ring here. Is that my answer?”

  “I told you a piece of paper means nothing.”

  “It means something to me. It means something to Ronnie. Why don’t you ask your son about it? Not that you seem to give him a choice in anything.”

  She slams the phone down on him, and I rub my ear, where my drum just received significant damage. “I know!” I say to the ceiling, “I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping!”

  I drop to my bed and hear a pronounced meow. I pick Kuku up and place him on the floor gently and collapse back onto the mattress. The more I know about Jane, the less I understand. She has littered portions of herself here and there, and tiny clues unfold about different aspects of her life, but naturally I wonder if there’s anyone on earth—including her—who sees the full picture. This man, Davis, sounded heartbroken, and she met his long-lost voice only with brisk curtness. He gave her a ring! And she abandoned it, along with him.

  She hurts. It’s the only fact I truly know about her. Now my guilt mounts higher than ever. I march downstairs with resolve, to put my humanity aside and try to avoid the thought that she thinks I’m a complete manipulator. She’s avoided answering some tough questions.

  She’s packing up her art equipment when I get downstairs.

  “A man asked you to marry him, and you didn’t have the decency to answer him before coming to the States?”

  “You’re wrong that you don’t fit in here at this complex, Lindsay. You seem to do quite well minding other people’s business.”

  “He loves you. That’s obvious.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You sure have a lot of time to get into my business. Why aren’t you interested in any of the other women in your life? That Helena has a lot to fix, if you’re into fixing people, and Haley certainly needs help planning the wedding of the century.”

  “I don’t want to do any of those things.”

  She sighs in exasperation. “You never want to do anything to change your life!”

  “And you never want to do anything to keep things in yours! I can’t believe you’ve had a man in your life for ten years, and you never thought to mention it. Was that him who called from the California Department of Corrections? Is he a guard?”

  “What? No, he’s in Mexico. Listen, Davis and I, we have an arrangement. I don’t have a man in my life!” she claims.

  “So you haven’t had him in your life for ten years? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Did you listen to the entire conversation? What is wrong with you?”

  “It’s my phone, and I’m worried about you. You’re like ET living here, getting whiter and paler! Go back to Mexico if you need to. For crying out loud, Jane.”

  The doorbell rings and as I open the door, Cherry is standing there on my porch holding Jake by the ear. “Cherry, what on earth?”

  “He was going to leave again! I caught him! I’m faster than I look, ain’t I, boy?”

  “Cherry, let him go.” I pull him into the house protectively.

  Cherry slaps her hands together as though her mission has been accomplished. “Don’t forget what I told you, either, Miss Lindsay. Your husband’s been dead a long time now. Your religion ain’t doing you much good, is it?” She points her crooked finger at me, wagging it a few times before she turns and, with her lurching walk, heads back toward her door.

  Jake shuts the door behind him. “Nice. Friend of yours?”

  “I like her. I may be her one day.”

  He looks to Jane and nods. “You don’t believe this for a second, do you?”

  “She’s nosey enough to be one of them. Don’t underestimate her. I’m going to pack.” Jane picks up Kuku and heads to her room, slamming the door.

  “Bad timing?”

  “I suppose you heard I met your bride. Is that why you’re here?”

  “I did hear,” he says. “My mother thought that you may have planned it.”

  “Yes, running into your mother is just the kind of thing I would plan. She was thrilled to see me.”

  “She was?” He laughs. “That was a joke, I suppose.”

  “Does your bride know you’re here? A week before your marriage? Or were you trying to get a bounty on my head?”

  “She doesn’t know I’m here. Does that make me a cad?”

  “It doesn’t make you ready to commit, that’s for certain.”

  “You’re not going to tell me, then?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “That she’s marrying me for my money.”

  “Even if she told me that, I wouldn’t believe her. There are plenty of reasons to marry you besides your money. Those blue eyes on one’s child are
quite enough. The money’s just an added bonus.”

  “But she did tell you that, and you weren’t going to tell me.”

  “No, in fact, she didn’t, and I don’t believe she is marrying you for money. Marriage is hard, Jake. It’s hard enough without questioning everyone’s motives in everything. Assume the best. That’s what Ron always did for me. You’ve waited a long time to get married—embrace it. She thanked me for giving you up. That doesn’t sound like a woman intent on marrying for money.”

  He exhales deeply and peers down at me. His gaze darting down the hallway to check if we’re alone. “What if I want out?”

  “Most men want out a week before their wedding. It means nothing.”

  “I don’t want to marry her.”

  “Well, it’s a little late for that!” I exclaim. “And aren’t you telling the wrong person? I’m not marrying you!”

  “Isn’t it better now than after the wedding?” he asks, and I look behind me and then back to him.

  “Are you practicing on me? Because really, Jake, I don’t understand. She’s not here.”

  “I haven’t seen you in ten years, Lindsay. All of a sudden, you’re in the coffee shop, I pay you back the money I owe you, you meet my fiancée at the dress store. I’m worried it’s not a coincidence. What if it’s divine intervention?”

  I swallow over the lump in my throat, unwilling to look him in the eye. The young Lindsay within me could run off with Jake and never look back, leaving that poor princess standing all alone at the altar, but the mature Lindsay—the one I’ve become because of Haley and Bette and the rest of them…heck, even Jane—that Lindsay can’t bear to be thought of as the immoral woman ever again. Besides, how would I know if he’s supposed to marry her? If you look at the shambles my life is currently in, my life choices haven’t been anything to imitate.

  He shakes his head. “It’s not cold feet.”

  “Maybe it’s not cold feet, but the fact that you’re here doesn’t speak well of that. Jake, you have no idea who I am today. You’re thinking we can go back to being sixteen and carefree, but marriage isn’t like that, I’m afraid. It’s not just sugarplums and gumdrops. Make the choice to be there, and you’ll be there.”

  “It was time to get married. I’m getting to that point where you’re either gay or eternally questionable as a partner. I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “You didn’t think it mattered who you spent the rest of your life with?”

  “I know. That’s sick, huh?”

  “Jake, why are you here? What do you think I can help you with?”

  He rakes his fingers through his hair, which now has a touch of gray at the temples. I think about the years I’ve missed in his life and wonder if he ever would have had the guts to stand up to his mother. It was one of the first things that attracted me to Ron. He answered to no one. Certainly not an overbearing mother. My experience with mothers had made me more than skittish to ever become one. Would I have been under Mrs. Evans’s rule all these years later? With a baby on my hip?

  “Cherry says you’ve been coming here to see me. Is this why?” When I look into Jake’s eyes, it’s impossible not to feel the butterflies in my stomach that I felt as a young girl. It’s impossible not to feel the soaring emotion of my first love, but to imagine that’s something worthy of stopping someone’s wedding is ridiculous.

  “I haven’t been able to sleep well since I saw you at the coffee shop. I came over here with good intentions to put an end to the questions in my mind, but it didn’t work. I thought giving the money back would ease my anxiety, but I’m here now because I have feelings for the wrong person, and I want to know that you’re not coming back. I need to hear it from your mouth that there isn’t a chance in hell of you coming back to me before I commit to Tristin.”

  I want to slap him. I mean, seriously take my hand and thrust it across his face until he’s red from the sting of my palm. “Jake, you don’t even know who I am anymore.” But as I look in his eyes, I know he does see a good portion of it. He knows what I’m capable of, and still, he’s standing here. “I am a flawed person, and I don’t want to take the chance to break your heart again. You have a bird in the hand—my advice is to fly away with her. She’s a beautiful girl. Don’t question this Jake. It will only haunt you.”

  “Let’s fly to Italy tomorrow.”

  “Jake!” I back away from him. Really, I should send him down the hall to Jane. She likes to flee commitment, too.

  “I know it’s the one place you’ve always wanted to see, and I want to be the one to take you.”

  “You’re getting married next week. You have always done the right thing. Well, except for maybe right now. How would you feel if you broke this girl’s heart, and left all your friends and family stranded? I had to live with the guilt, Jake. It’s not fun to get what you want at the expense of others. There’s an enormous price to pay.”

  “I’d feel terrible, naturally.”

  I don’t feel flattered, as I should. I feel branded, and I know as sure as I stand here that I would take the fall again. I would be the Other Woman, while he got to keep his reputation as the nice guy. I won’t be the her again. I’m not strong enough to take it. I’m a Trophy Wife, and we have standards. Biblical standards.

  “Jake, get married. Sometimes the price of what you want is too high. This is one of those times. Do the right thing, and God won’t let you down.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. The right thing.”

  “Then break up with Tristin. You’re not in love with her if you can show up on my doorstep a week before your wedding. Either that or you’re a complete commitment-phobe and at this point, I don’t have a clue which is true.”

  “You’re not promising me anything if I break it off with Tristin.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  His dark blue-green eyes still have power over me. Their soulful plead begs me to don a red dress and take my place as the man-stealer. After all, after one betrayal, what’s one more? It’s better than spending my life alone in this cramped condominium with a dozen cats. But I think about Bette’s sorrow-filled eyes when she heard my confession. And Haley’s upcoming wedding to a man who thinks she invented beauty. This is not love I feel. This is about winning and loneliness. I’m in the race for the long haul, for the crown above.

  “If you love her, marry her. If you don’t, let her go before it’s too late, but do me a favor and keep me out of it. I’ve had enough drama for one lifetime.”

  Jake steps forward, and I look down at his work boots, not briskly new, but not hard-worn like when I knew him and they’d have to last until he could afford a new pair. He is a different man. I am a different woman. He surrounds my cheeks with his fingers and lifts my eyes to his.

  He kisses my forehead, and I’ll admit, I fight the urge to lift my lips to his and dwell in the flesh. Being a Christian never really gets easier, does it? As I watch him, I don’t feel sure of anything. Cherry is perched behind her curtain, but she opens it so I can see her shaking her head. I know just how she feels. Failure is my middle name.

  Chapter 13

  Jane

  Even Kuku is looking at me with scorn, pacing around my feet. “I know. I shouldn’t have said anything. Even if she is after Ronnie for his money. I raised him smarter than that, didn’t I?”

  Kuku meows.

  “You’re turning on me, too? Listen, just because she’s pretty and doesn’t throw you off her bed, don’t get any ideas. What am I talking to you for? You’re male, and you all react the same way to a gorgeous blonde.”

  I fold my cotton pants. They’re the wrinkled style that travels well, and I get frustrated with folding so I twist them into a ball and drop them in the suitcase, throwing a wadded-up Guatemalan T-shirt on top of them. Everything else, I yank off hangers and out of drawers and pile into the bag. I did my best. I made it nearly two months and considering the circumstances, that’s about seven weeks longer than I thought I’d last.<
br />
  Inside the bathroom, I scrape everything off the counter in one fell-swoop, my arm like an elephant’s trunk swathing a new path in the jungle. Only in this case, it reveals a fresh, clutter-free countertop. Just as pristine as the day I found it, with only the brightly-colored, fish-shaped soaps and tropical blue hand towels, in a clam-shaped dish. I straighten the coordinating bath towels and stand back to admire my work.

  Every trace of me is gone, except I put the Retin A back where Lindsay so graciously left it for me. Yes, I’m old. I know this without her subtle hint of medical products left on the bathroom vanity. Unlike Lindsay, I have more important things to worry about. I leave the prescription tube on the counter, convinced she’ll need it more than me, regardless. Her looks are still a commodity; mine are long-gone, and they never did me any favors, anyway.

  “Why do I say things I don’t mean?” I ask the mirror, as I think about what I told Davis. “I feel terrible afterward, and then I can’t even apologize.”

  It’s a terrible character flaw, probably right up there with talking to oneself. One of these days, Davis isn’t going to be waiting when I get home. My lower lip trembles when I think of an empty house, and I still it with my finger. I flatten my palms against my cheeks, pulling back the extra skin. I’m in there somewhere, my fresh, girlish self, whose eyes are bright and full of life. I came here, angry at Ron, sure, but Ron was only a symptom of when I didn’t have control over my life. Now I have so much control that no one but Davis seems to want to be around me—and I think he’s just been a glutton for punishment. I thought I could show Lindsay the right path. Now that she’s on her own, and I’ve completely bungled it. She just thinks I’m a crazy, old lady who belongs with the rest of her neighbors.

  Most of my life is over now. Though math has never been my subject, it doesn’t take a genius to know that at fifty-three, the best years have come and gone. I wish I could just call Davis, and blurt how much I miss him, that I wish he was here with me, and the thought of going home to a house without him tears me up inside. But there’s something different about me—there always was. I’m missing some deep, functional part of womanhood. An inner portion of my heart is dead. It doesn’t operate the way other women’s seem to, offering up nurturing words and a warm meal. It didn’t used to be that way. I was the mother all the kids loved. Now, I’ll leave the house and avoid the guilt of what I can’t provide. Something prevents me from saying how I feel, if it will make someone else feel good and reduce me to a lower plane. In fact, often it makes me do exactly the opposite of what I desire.