Out with the Old, In with the New

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  “Kate, would you like to get together sometime?”

  This time my stomach does a complete backflip, and I sit up straight.

  “I’m sure Caitlin would love to see Molly again. That would be nice.”

  Hera plants her hands on her curvy hips. Weenie. You know damn good and well that’s not what he meant.

  I am not even divorced yet. I can’t date.

  Darlin’, you can do anything your little heart desires.

  Too bad there’s not a place for me to run and hide from you.

  Hera just smiles.

  “Is Caitlin out of school a week from Monday? Molly is. It’s a teacher workday or something like that.”

  “She is.”

  “How about if we take a late-night trip to the beach a week from tomorrow? There’s a lunar eclipse and Molly and I were going to pack a picnic supper, load up the telescope, head on over to Cocoa.”

  “Oh, Jon, no. I don’t want to intrude on your time with her.”

  “She’d much rather have a friend along than spend the evening with her old man. And we can stay out late because the girls don’t have to get up early for school on Monday. And have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? It’s magnificent. It’s like nature is pulling a copper-colored shade over the moon. It’ll take your breath away.”

  I swallow hard. “All right, you sold me. As long as you’re sure we won’t be intruding.”

  “Not a chance. We’ll pick you up at four o’clock, okay?”

  An anxious mix of hope and discontent brews inside me, repelling each other like two positively charged magnets forced together. Only hope and discontent are about as opposite as two emotions can be.

  Actually, the more I think about it, the more it feels as if I’ve ventured out to the edge of a high diving board, and I’m contemplating a jump.

  I watch the cars whiz by on the street in front of the restaurant, recall how much I hate high dives. When I was a little girl, we used to go to this public pool to swim in the summertime. Once, I waited in a long line that stretched from the lounge chairs all the way up the ladder of the high dive so I could jump off. When it was finally my turn, I couldn’t do it. The sun was beating down on me, the water was sparkling so bright that it hurt my eyes—it looked too shallow to jump—and the kids were yelling at me because I was taking so long.

  I turned around and pushed past all of them waiting on the ladder and climbed back down to the ground.

  I’ve always preferred to have my feet on the ground. That way I can gauge exactly how deep the water is before I take the plunge.

  CHAPTER 12

  I wish I could walk into Borders and buy a book called Guidelines for Divvying up a Twenty-year Marriage: What to do with half a life’s-worth of discarded memories.

  There is no such book in print.

  Maybe I’ll write it someday.

  “Rainey, I need to get a job.” She’s come over to help me paint the bedroom Scarlett O’Hara. She stops rolling on red paint and gives me this horror-stricken look.

  “I’m okay with it. I’m not above working for a living. I know I’ll get a decent settlement. But for my own peace of mind, I need more to look forward to in life than alimony and child support checks.”

  I come from a working-class family. My mother never worked outside the home, but it wouldn’t have hurt if she had. In fact, it would have been a good thing. She’d be less dependent on my father now and money wouldn’t have been so tight. But my father had his pride. So my mother depended on her man and perfected the art of stretching a dollar.

  We didn’t have the finest things, like Corbin’s family, but we never went hungry.

  “Is Corbin on your case about it?”

  I nod and peel off another piece of border from the wall that abuts the ceiling. “If you could have heard him last night when he brought Caitlin home, you’d think we were one step away from the poor farm. Of course it didn’t help that he’d discovered that I circumvented him and bought that bed. He’ll never let me forget it.”

  Rainey laughs, sets down her paint roller and plops down on the bed. “I have to admit, I’m having a hard time understanding how a bed could be worth ten thousand dollars.”

  She bounces a little.

  I let a long piece of border fall to the ground. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours, of course.” She sits up, runs her hand over the mattress top. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have done it. I’m just saying I don’t see how anyone can make one bed worth ten thousand dollars.”

  “Go to their Web site. They explain it beautifully. But I’m not keeping the bed.”

  “What? You’re not sending it back, are you?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve made my point to Corbin. So I’m giving it to my parents. Mom said Dad’s having trouble sleeping. This bed is like sleeping on a cloud. I thought maybe it would help him.”

  “Wow, that’s really a nice thing to do.”

  I shrug. “I just wish a bed could make him well.”

  Rainey gets up and resumes painting. We work in silence for a while. I’ve found that as with divorce, cancer talk often renders people mute. I break the ice.

  “You should have seen Corbin. He was on the war-path last night. He wanted to sit down and outline everything right then—which days he’d get to see Caitlin, how much money he’d give me per month, the furniture and CDs he’d take. He said, ‘I have to plan, you know. I’m not footloose and fancy-free like you are.’”

  “Oh give me a break.”

  “Yep, that’s me. Just call me Ms. ‘Blowin’ in the Wind.’”

  “I’ll bet you wanted to smack him.”

  “Oh, I am way beyond that. For the first time in my life I’ve started thinking about hitting him where it really hurts.”

  “Oooooh, going for the old bank account jugular.”

  I climb down from the ladder and gather the pieces of stripped border into a pile. “I have never thought that way before, but he started it. He assured me he’d provide adequately for his daughter and cover Daniel’s tuition, but then he got all funny about what I wanted. Like I was going to try to rob him. You know, at this point, I don’t even know what I want. I haven’t even come to terms with the extra drawer space he left when he moved out. So I certainly haven’t had a chance to figure out what I want to fill it with.”

  Rainey pours more paint into the pan. “He was just in a mood.”

  “Well, he made it exceedingly clear that money is going to be an issue between us. I can’t blame him for getting angry over the bed. But I don’t make a habit of doing things like that, and he knows it. After twenty years, he’d better not think he can skate on out of here footloose and fancy-free.”

  “I guess it’s expensive to have a girlfriend and pay alimony and child support.”

  “Yes, which brings up another issue. I told him I didn’t want his girlfriend there when Caitlin visits.”

  Rainey nods. “That’s fair. And as I said, you need to spell it out.”

  “You know what he says? ‘I’m not going to do anything that’s going to hurt my daughter.’ All I can say is he’d better not try to take Caitlin away from me. If he’s afraid of things getting ugly…”

  Rainey looks at me through narrowed eyes. “I’m sure he won’t do that.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know, Rainey. I’m scared. You should have seen him. He’s the one making all the money. I don’t even have a job. If he marries that bimbo and tries to take away my baby—”

  My voice catches. Rainey comes over and sits on the bed next to me. “Hey, come on. He’s not going to do that.”

  She squeezes my hand and smirks. “If he brings a kid into the house, then he can’t screw the bimbo on the kitchen counter.”

  My mouth falls open.

  “Gee, thanks, Rain. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No, it’s supposed to make you see how things really are. You are a smart, capable woman. If you’re afrai
d he’s going to try and take Caitlin away from you, start training for the fight now. What kind of job do you want?”

  What to do with myself outside the role of mother and wife? The thought is almost overwhelming. It’s been a long time since I held a job outside the home.

  “My degree’s in interior design. I worked as a decorator a year-and-a-half to support us while Corbin was in medical school.” After he graduated, we agreed I’d quit to take care of the kids. I didn’t mind. Call me unambitious if you must, but what’s wrong with wanting to make a nice home?

  “Of course. You’re a natural. People are always asking you for advice. You’ve kept up with the latest interior fashions and trends—like your hot Moroccan living room.”

  I laugh.

  “The hair on the back of Corbin’s neck stood up when he saw it with the gold overwash and the tapestry-covered ceiling. It was priceless.”

  “In fact, I may have a lead for you. You know the new museum they’re building downtown? Marilyn Griggs, the executive director, mentioned that she’s interviewing designers. I could see if she’d talk to you.”

  A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Just as it’s been a long time since I held a job outside the home, it’s been just as long since I’ve interviewed or talked to clients. I don’t even have a current portfolio.

  Oh come on, says Hera. Don’t you go tossing around those lame excuses. Get your act together and draw some renderings, put together some mock-up boards.

  I think about it for a minute. Yes, this might work. It will be good for Caitlin to see her mother stand on her own two feet for a change.

  “That would be great.”

  “So tell me about this enigmatic Jon who called last week during lunch.”

  The way my knotted stomach unfurls and spirals at the mention of his name is disturbing.

  “He’s just an old friend. Our mechanic. He has a daughter, Molly, who’s Caitlin’s age.”

  Rainey’s not buying it. I turn away from her so I don’t have to endure the incredulous looks she’s throwing at me.

  “He’s a great guy, but I have way too much going on to add a great guy to the mix.”

  Even though I’m not looking at her, I feel her dubious glances land like darts in my back.

  “Okay, fine.” I turn to her. “Caitlin and I are going to the beach with him and Molly.”

  Her eyes brighten, then her face falls.

  “Uggggh, bathing suit on the first date?”

  “It’s not a date. We’re getting the girls together.”

  She gives me an oh get off it look.

  I shake my head. “It’s not a date. I just… I just can’t. Sometimes I think I have it all figured out. It should be cut and dried—Corbin cheated. He’s out. But sometimes the pendulum swings so far back in the other direction I catch myself looking for ways to justify what he did.”

  I swallow hard.

  “Sometimes I want to ask him to come home. Because I’m still not sure I can initiate the divorce.”

  She hugs me and I cry.

  “We called Daniel last night and told him. That made it real. I guess I thought that until we told him there was a chance. But this morning when I woke up I was thinking the last time Daniel was home we were a family. Now we’re…” I swipe at my tears. “God, what are we? I’m not sure anymore.”

  Sunday morning, I’m sitting at the kitchen table drinking my second cup of coffee and reading the want ads, when the chain saw starts.

  I don’t think much of it at first—just someone’s Sunday morning yard work. It’s the earthshaking thud that makes me get up and look out the window.

  I see a man in a white T-shirt scaling the trunk of the huge oak tree I love so much in my neighbor’s yard.

  “They’re not—”

  Oh my God, they are. They’re cutting down my tree.

  Technically it’s not mine, but I’ve had a love affair with that tree since the day we moved into this house.

  As the man in white slices off another piece of trunk I feel as if I’m watching an old friend being torturously dismembered. I want to scream; I want to weep from the atrocity of it.

  I bang on the window, but he can’t hear me over the obnoxious roar. “Stop! Stop it!”

  I cover my face and peek through my fingers.

  They must have started this butchery yesterday. I was out all day—they’ve already taken off the branches. All the lush green leaves are gone. The trunk is all that’s left. It stands erect like a thirty-foot middle finger at full salute.

  The guy in the white T-shirt has crampons on his feet and a red safety harness around his waist. It’s a horrific sight watching him up there. Like David scaling Goliath and attacking him with a chain saw.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Caitlin calls from upstairs.

  “Nothing, sweetie, they’re just cutting down the tree next door, and I don’t want them to.”

  She comes running downstairs and looks out the window. “Can’t you make them stop?”

  Yeah, don’t just stand there, says Hera. Do something.

  Like what? Even if I wanted to do something, it’s too late now. They’ve already… Oh, they’ve already killed it.

  So you’re just going to stand here and let them do it. Hera shakes her head.

  I open the back door and go outside. Caitlin follows. I hear my neighbors’ voices above the saw and walk around to the front of the house. Jane and Carl Carter are out in the driveway standing next to their bright yellow Hummer, dressed in their Sunday best. They’re both shading their eyes looking up at the tree murderers.

  “Jane? Carl? Why are you cutting down the tree? Is it diseased?” Caitlin hangs on my leg.

  Carl shakes his head, straightens his tie. “No. Last year when hurricane Charley blew through, it dropped a few branches. You remember. A real nuisance.”

  A nuisance? Is that what it boils down to? When something inconveniences you, just cut it down? You don’t just cut down an old tree like that.

  Hera says, Whoa, don’t go getting all uppity, Ms. High and Mighty. Isn’t that exactly what you did to Corbin? Cut him off at the knees just because he dropped an indiscreet branch where he shouldn’t have? You didn’t give him a chance.

  “But it was a perfectly fine tree. Do you know how old it was? Do you know how long it takes for those old oaks to grow like that?”

  Jane tucks her Bible under her arm, opens the passenger side door. “You’ll be thanking us come next hurricane season. Your perfectly fine tree might just fall on our house. Or yours. Better to get rid of it now and cut our losses.”

  My perfectly fine tree? No, if it were my perfectly fine tree we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

  The roar of the chain saw flares. Caitlin plugs her ears. Carl yells above the noise, “It had to go. I have a family to protect.”

  Instinctively, my arms encircle Caitlin, who is leaning on me, her back against the front of my legs, looking up at the tree man.

  Well… I had a family.

  And we loved this tree.

  If Corbin were here, this wouldn’t be happening. We used to watch the sunset over that tree. We’d marvel at the way the light shone the most brilliant shades of gold and amber through the leaves and branches.

  “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” I said once.

  He put his arms around me and kissed me. “I’m looking at her.”

  A portion of the tree trunk breaks free and falls. The ground shakes.

  I bite my lip until it throbs. I feel the dam of tears rising, threatening to overflow.

  “But—” my voice cracks “—you can’t replace…trees like that.”

  The chain saw blares. I swipe at my tears, cover my ears.

  Jane and Carl exchange an uneasy glance.

  “Have to run.” Jane mouths the words and gives a little wave before she climbs into the car.

  “Excuse us, Kate, we don’t want to be late for church.”

  Carl gets behind
the wheel of that big, ugly yellow Hummer and drives away.

  Tears stream down my face.

  I’m sure Jane and Carl are rolling their eyes and saying terrible things like No wonder Corbin left her.

  He didn’t leave. I made him leave.

  Exactly. Hera cocks a brow, makes a sound like a chain saw. Cut that twenty-year marriage right down. You threw him out without even trying to fix things. No marriage counseling, no nothing. Cut him loose right into Mel-o-dy Wentworth’s arms. Happy now?

  Do I look happy?

  I see two birds circling high above the tree. It was probably their home. I know how they feel. And I still have my home.

  “Mommy? Don’t cry.” Caitlin hugs my legs and I sink down to my knees and bury my face in her blond curls and sob like a child.

  “Let’s go in the house,” she says, way too grown-up for a six-year-old. As she takes me by the hand and leads me, I know right then that I can’t let this go any further. I have to do something to make this right.

  I’m throwing away twenty years of marriage over one mistake? A big mistake, granted, but is it something we can’t overcome with marriage counseling?

  To save our family?

  I go into the kitchen, pick up the phone, start to dial, then stop.

  Caitlin comes into the room trailing a fistful of toilet paper. Wipes my tears and gives me another hug. Then leaves the room.

  No, I will not let our family fall apart.

  I dial Corbin’s new phone number.

  I pace the kitchen floor, and in my mind’s eye I glimpse our future. This time next year we’ll be sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and eating my homemade cinnamon rolls late on a lazy Sunday morning much like this—only no obnoxious chain saws buzzing. He’ll reach out and take my hand and say, “I’m so glad you didn’t give up on me.”

  And we’ll look at each other and know how far we’ve come and how much stronger we are because of it.

  “Hello?”

  Hearing his voice floods me with the kind of relief you get when you know you’ve made the right choice; when your little lifeboat survives the storm and you know you have a distance yet to travel, but you’re going home again.