by Aliyat Lecky
Noami must be holding her own, Helen thought. Otherwise, Richard would have ended the conversation long ago. He was patient with an estimable opponent.
“Well, thank you for listening. I want you to know I don’t blame you for this, it’s… just…well, something that happened. I’d like you to consider this before you go. Helen was happy. We were happy. She and I are happy. You can’t know what it is like to share twenty-six years with someone, what that feels like, only to have it all come apart.”
The silence where Noami was speaking was maddening. Helen could hear her voice, at least her tenor. Noami seemed calm. Richard, too, was calm. It was like witnessing a game of chess, yet she could only see one of the players and half the board. She had no indication who had out-maneuvered the other.
“I appreciate your candor, and your willingness to listen. I do hope you understand. I am a man here fighting for his life. I love her. I want you to know that, and I would do anything for her and my family. I hope you can forgive this intrusion in your life. Thanks again for taking my call, this can’t have been easy for you, either. Yes. Goodbye, then.” Richard placed the phone gently on the cradle. He didn’t dare look at Helen. He simply headed toward the door.
“Richard, how dare you.” That was all she could manage, and weakly at that.
“I dared quite easily, or didn’t you hear me tell that young lady that I am a man trying to save his life?” He exited the room.
“What about my life?” Helen whispered after him. He didn’t hear her. She sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if she should call Noami. If she did, Noami would know that Helen had been a witness to Richard’s call, and she didn’t want to tell her that. That might force her to admit to Noami, and herself, that some of what he had to say was valid. He had invested over twenty years of his life to her. For those many years, he had been a wonderful, supportive, and generous husband. Though she had been an equally remarkable wife to him, she now found that she could no longer play that role. Not in the way he needed her to. That was through no fault of her own.
She was incapable of going back to the life they shared together. Not because she didn’t want to, but she simply couldn’t. That was no longer in the cards for her. She had to be authentically herself. Love herself. First. Best. The role of wife was a part in her life that she was no longer capable of playing because she had rediscovered too much of what she had once been and so willingly thrown away at a great price. Now, she wanted to continue forward with both eyes open without sacrifice or regret. She would seek fulfillment without compromise.
Helen wasn’t sure what role Noami would play in her journey, but she hoped she would be along for the ride for as long as she liked. Noami was something special, and she was optimistic about their relationship. She wasn’t sure if Noami was the key to becoming who she was destined to be, but she was looking forward to whatever contribution she would bring to her exploration. Despite Richard’s insistence to the contrary, Helen planned to allow Noami to remain involved in her life, as friend and lover.
***
HELEN TRIED HER best to appear calm while she struggled internally in the face of being surprised so completely. She didn’t try to contact Noami the next day, nor did she receive a call from her. She picked up the phone several times with the intention of calling, but never did. She wanted to talk to Noami, simply hear her voice, to find out her reaction to Richard’s call, and to learn what her response to his plea would be. She was also afraid of what she might discover. Maybe Richard’s call had worked, and Noami decided to give Richard what he wanted—his wife back. She wanted to call she didn’t dare. Instead, she called her parent’s home. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since Thanksgiving even though both her parents had called her several times. Her father called at least five times while her mother gave up after two attempts.
“Dad, you’re home. I’m happy I caught you in.”
“Helen.” He seemed relieved to hear her voice. “We’ve been worried about you. You haven’t been taking our calls.”
“Can you imagine why?”
There was silence at the other end of the line. Helen figured he didn’t know what to say to that question. Honesty would have been welcomed. Then again, she was in no position to throw stones.
“You know what’s interesting, is that all my life, I’ve heard those rumors about you, and never given them any credence. You could have told me.”
“I never lied to you, Helen.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s accurate…and an easy way out. But I wonder if you had simply told me…” She left the rest of her thought float away between them, unvoiced. “How are you, Dad?”
“We’re fine here. Busying ourselves getting Christmas together. How are you?” There was an odd quality in his voice that Helen didn’t recognize. He was holding back.
“Dad, have you spoken with Richard lately?”
“Yes, he called today. Just before you did.”
“Did he? What did he have to say?”
“Wanted me to know I was right about something I’d told him years ago. He wanted some advice.” He was clearly avoiding crucial details.
“I know you told him about Maggie. He mentioned her earlier.”
“He told you, did he?”
“More accurately, he threw her in my face. Did you offer any advice?”
“I only told him because I thought he ought to know, Helen. I didn’t mean to cause you any problems.”
“I know, Dad, and you didn’t. Our problems are our own. Did you offer him any advice?” She repeated the question in a tone that indicated she required an answer from him.
“I told him if he loves you, then he loves all of you.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He said he loved you. That was all. He does, Helen.”
“The way Mom loves you?” She hadn’t meant to be cruel, but realized she hurt his feelings. Before she finished voicing the question, she regretted her words.
“Helen…”
“Tell Mom I called, please.” She didn’t wait for his reply. He thought he was helping her. She knew that.
The following morning, Helen slipped into the study to call Noami. She regretted calling her so early, but wanted to make the call while Richard was at work and unable to overhear their conversation. She had given her over twenty-four hours to consider what Richard had to say to her. Helen only hoped that Noami understood that the decision of whether or not they would continue to see each other was up to Helen, not Richard. As soon as Noami answered the phone, a rush of emotion passed over her. She was overjoyed at the sound of her voice. Noami sounded equally thrilled to receive her call.
“Hello. I didn’t expect to hear from you…so soon.”
Helen caught the afterthought of “so soon.” Noami must have felt just as uncertain about their status as Helen. Noami couldn’t know how determined Helen was to keep her in her life, how much she craved her presence, and desired to be near her. She wanted Noami. She needed Noami. She wanted to breathe in and live Noami. “I was going to call last night, but Richard and I, well, it was a rough evening.”
“I can imagine. Are you okay?” She guessed that Noami had decided not to mention Richard’s call. She was thankful for that.
“I’ll be fine. We had a quite a row, is all.”
“I’m sorry. Can I help?”
“Yes, you can keep talking to me. I’ve missed you.” Helen had surmised right. Noami was going to let her make the decisions for herself. “I’ve really missed you.” Helen cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the taut pull of her throat muscles.
“You sound a little stressed, Helen. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Noami was nearly purring.
“Maybe.” Helen tried to soften her voice. “I’ll let you know when I see you. Tomorrow?”
“What does your calendar look like for tomorrow? Let’s meet. I have from noon until the next morning open. Care to join me for lunch?”
“Until the next mor
ning, huh? All that time for lunch. What else do you have in mind?”
“I think you know.”
Helen and Noami fell easily into their normal lovers’ rhythm. By the end of the call, Helen was sure that Richard hadn’t ruined her chances with Noami. She also recognized, as she sat down at her desk to work on her novel two hours later, that she was relieved that Noami was going to remain a welcome aspect in her life. Noami was a good friend, a caring companion, and a thrilling lover, and Helen did not want to lose her.
THIRTEEN
THE SMASHING SOUND from the ground floor frightened Helen, jerking her from her prone position on the bed. She had worked all day moving her belongings into the guest bedroom, and was taking a mental break from the physical labor. For her, that meant she was sitting on her bed with her laptop on her lap, working on her new novel. Prior to laying back on the bed, she had been working for over an hour without interruption, so had quite frankly forgotten there was anyone in the house with her, despite the fact that David had done most of the lifting to convey her into her new accommodations. He hadn’t even tried to convince her to remain in her marital bed.
Helen was thankful that he was choosing to remain neutral, unlike Sydney, who hadn’t spoken to her mother in days. When David arrived to gather more of his belongings and found her lifting heavy boxes and dragging large suitcases out of her bedroom, he didn’t even ask her what she was doing. All he did, once he placed the box she was dragging into what he had all his life considered the guest room, was ask, “What else are you moving, Mom?”
She exited the room, knowing precisely where the shattering-glass noise originated. A second, louder crash halted her stride before she made it to the small landing on the stairs. She turned quickly toward the covered sundeck situated just beneath the guest room. By the time she made it into the freezing sun porch, Richard was attempting to right himself while simultaneously trying to reach for the overturned glass of bourbon that lay on the floor beside him.
“Richard, what are you doing out here? It’s freezing. You’ll catch your death of cold.” She struggled to get him to his feet. “Come on in.”
He was no help. He was absorbed in the glass, which evaded him by spinning beneath his clumsy fingertips, and rolling out of reach.
“You’re drunk.” Helen reached past his outstretched arm to seize the glass and place it back on the small, round end table. “Here,” she tried grabbing him around his chest to help lift him, but his dead weight proved much too heavy for her. Richard’s state rendered him useless.
“Stop, Helen. Let go.” He laughed hard at his own gaucheness. Richard was inebriated, and to his delight, Helen was helpless to assist him. “Go away.”
“David!” Helen remembered that they were not alone in the house. With any luck, he was still on the first floor, and would hear her call. “David, come quickly!”
David entered the sun room with his anxiety registered on his face. “What happened?” Helen could tell by his expression that he didn’t require an answer. His father was so intoxicated, that he was incapable of making rational decisions for himself.
“All right, Dad. Let’s get you in the house and warmed up.” Helen exchanged concerned glances with David. “God, Mom, he’s freezing. How long has he been out here?”
Helen strained to help lift him to his feet. “I don’t know. I was writing…in my room.” She considered the last time she had seen him. That was just around the time she had gone down for a sandwich, around three. He was on the phone with Orlando, making plans for their trip to D.C. That had been a few hours ago, but he couldn’t have been out there in that frigid temperature that long, surely. “Less than an hour, I think.”
“You’re right. He asked if I wanted to go out for dinner about forty-five minutes ago. I said no.” He looked away from her, a little embarrassed. “I kinda wanted to stick around to make sure you were okay.” He grabbed Richard by the middle to settle him on the sofa.
Helen ran back to the living room with several Afghans that she arranged carefully to cover every inch of his prone body from chin to his shoeless feet. She was riddled with guilt. She knew just as well as David what this was all about. Richard was upset because she had told him that morning that she was moving out of their bedroom. She felt there was no other choice, and that the change would make life easier for the both of them. Using the same bed ended in loss of sleep and tension headaches. They had argued for hours before she was able to begin packing her things. She had tried to explain to him that she needed the space to think without him trying to influence her decisions. Her plan was to move while he was away at work, to spare him the pain of watching her. She had hoped that by the time he returned in the evening, her closet would be empty, and her cleared vanity would confirm that she had actually vacated their shared living space. Once she informed him of her plans, he never left for the day.
He had promised that if she continued to share a room with him, he would give her the space she needed. Before she could adequately explain to him that her need to move out was not simply about space, but a desire to maintain a level of privacy, he reneged on his promise, pulled her close, and tried to kiss her. Sleeping with him, especially when he wanted sex, was becoming too uncomfortable. The night before, he had kept her up the most of the night trying to convince her to stay away from Noami so that they could resume their marriage.
“Richard, why were you out there? It’s freezing.” Helen rubbed one of his hands between her own. He was so cold. “I can’t believe you did this.” Helen hadn’t anticipated that her moving out of the bedroom would have had this effect on him.
Richard wasn’t listening to her. He tried to focus on her face, but his level of intoxication impeded his success. He couldn’t focus his eyes properly. He smiled at the space just over her right shoulder where she imagined he saw her face.
“Helen, I lov whou. Zuu rre so buetifu. No ones sho lavly ishu.” He turned his face to David. “Ya momsh iz stunin.” The drunk-wide grin, which covered his face, transformed unexpectedly into tears. “I lub her. I do.”
David placed his hands over Helen’s and held them still. Helen couldn’t face her son. She feared he might blame her for his father’s condition. In the thirty plus years that they had been together, Helen had never known Richard to get any more than a little high from alcohol. He detested the loss of control he attributed to being drunk. Certainly, David would find dealing with his drunken father emotionally challenging.
“Mom, I’ll take care of Dad. You don’t have to do this.”
“David, I…” Helen couldn’t form the words to express what she was feeling.
“Mom, don’t. It isn’t necessary.” David lifted his mother’s chin as she had done for him so many times in his life when he had needed it. “You don’t have to deal with this. I’ll take care of him.” He was taking care of her as well. “I love you.” He managed a weak smile before separating her hands from Richard’s, and guiding her to her feet. He stood without saying another word, placed his arms around her tightly, and held her until her tears subsided. “I love you. But this isn’t about you.” Then he turned back to his sleeping father and began to readjust the warm throws. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll stay with him,” he added without turning around.
Helen backed slowly out of the room. Richard was drunk for the first time in his life. He lay there, sound asleep with a boyish grin on his face, unaware that his troubles would return once he was restored to an abstemious state. For now, he was without worry. Helen turned to leave. Richard was floating on a hazy cloud of bourbon fumes beyond her reach.
Helen couldn’t simply go back up to her room to continue working on her book. She felt as though she was going to be sick. No matter how much she tried to reason with herself that what Richard was experiencing was not her fault, she couldn’t convince herself of her innocence.
***
“ANGIE, CAN I come in? I really need to talk.” Helen leaned her forehead on the cold door jam. Her fa
ce was hot, so the coolness of the brown-painted wood was somehow soothing to her.
“Of course, come in.” Angie spoke to Helen without really looking at her. She turned to lead her into the home in which Helen and Angie had spent many hours gossiping and supporting each other when necessary. She followed Angie past the living room and into their usual hangout in the cozy den. They sat in silence for several minutes before either spoke. Helen could tell by her tone that Angie had immediately gauged her friend’s mood when she met her at the door. They didn’t begin with their requisite small talk before the serious conversation would begin, electing to sit in silence instead. There was no easing into this conversation.
Helen sensed that Angie would wait in supportive silence until she was ready to enlighten her. Angie was like that. A true friend who knew when to listen, and when to mete out advice. She also knew when Helen just simply needed to sit still. This was one of those times. They sat in companionable silence. Helen looked at the floor.
Angie watched her from her comfortable chair with her legs crossed in that way that Helen had always admired. It was as if she were sitting on a throne. The only time Angie even looked like she was going to speak was when her daughter, Cynthia, entered the room, unaware of Helen’s presence. Angie held up her hand to her daughter, who judged wisely her mother’s posture and demeanor, and tipped out of the room without speaking.
“Angie,” Helen began after a time. “Richard’s drunk. Stumbling drunk.” Helen didn’t know where else to begin than with the facts. Nor could she adequately convey to Angie what she had left back home, too distraught by the implications of the reality that Richard was actually drunk out of his mind.
Angie shook her head slowly. “No, Honey. Begin with ‘I’.”
Helen struggled momentarily. There was no more I. No more me. She felt as though there was only her. She was living outside herself, and desperately needed to find a way back in. This last episode with Richard had worn her out. She had mentally abandoned any sense of self. She felt completely detached from who she had been, and still didn’t know who she was now. Helen couldn’t respond to Angie. She sat in the chair, alternating between wringing her hands and crying into them. So absorbed was she in her own thoughts, that she didn’t know Angie was beside her until she pulled her into a tight embrace.