The Marriage Intervention

by Hilary Dartt

  The sound of him getting farther and farther away until she couldn’t hear him any more.

  Delilah either sensed something was wrong, or was completely worn out from playing so hard. Her head resting on her police officer chew toy, she didn’t move from the spot where Paul’s foot had been just a moment ago, even when Josie went into the silent living room and sat on the couch.

  ***

  It was Friday again and for no reason at all, Josie kept expecting Paul to return home.

  For the past hour, as the bright blue daytime sky faded to a dusky purple and then a deep blue, she’d stood at the front window watching the driveway. He was late, and the spot where he parked remained empty. Finally, headlights illuminated the window, sweeping over her stakeout spot. She jumped, not wanting Paul to know she had stood on this spot for hours, frozen with fear.

  Before she walked away, she noticed it wasn’t his car parking alongside hers. Worse, the driver’s door and the passenger door were opening. Her heart rate increased, and black swirls converged on her vision.

  A pair of officers came to your house for only two reasons. The first: to inform you if your police officer husband had been hurt. She closed her eyes when she thought about the second reason. Maybe if she didn’t answer the door, they couldn’t tell her. She walked quickly over to the front door, locked it and leaned back against it. She couldn’t breathe. Fear wrapped its bony fingers around her throat and squeezed. As the officers approached her door, she heard them talking in voices so low the actual words sounded muffled. Only sad people talked like that. Or people keeping a secret.

  One of them knocked, and in her crazed state she analyzed the speed and force of the knocks for meaning. Maybe Paul was just in the hospital, like he’d been a few weeks ago. He couldn’t be dead. She had so many things to say to him. She hadn’t had the chance. With an ever-growing sense of dread, she turned around and unlocked the door. Her body swayed as she pulled it open.

  The men on her doorstep looked apologetic. One of them was an older guy with a close cropped haircut and steely blue eyes. The other was a mushy-looking forty-something whose forehead scrunched with sympathy.

  “Josie Garcia?” said the older guy.

  “Yes?”

  In that split second before he spoke again, she felt the floor tilt beneath her. She grabbed the doorknob for support.

  “I’m serving you with court documents.”

  Everything stopped.

  Court documents? With a shaky hand, she took the envelope from the police officer and opened the seal.

  She extracted the sheaf of papers.

  Official Summons

  “Divorce papers,” she whispered. “He’s filed for divorce.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the crinkle-browed officer said, nodding in a way that made him look guilty. As they turned to leave, Josie heard herself say, “Thank God,” before her vision went completely blank and she crumpled to the ground.

  ***

  Paul wasn’t dead. But he wanted a divorce. He was gone. And Josie didn’t know if he was coming back. For the first time since her mom died, Josie felt the kind of loneliness that made it nearly impossible to go on. Paul was right. She couldn’t seem to stay away from Scott. But why? Why did she keep going back for more?

  Her mom would say romance attracts women like car accidents attract passers-by. You know you shouldn’t look but you can’t turn away. Actually, that’s something Paul would say.

  Mama would say romance attracts women like kids to an ice cream truck. There’s a creepy guy on the inside, but as soon as you hear the music, your ears perk up and you start looking around for it, your feet moving before you even realize it. Then you’re forking over the money, keeping the creepy guy in one-dollar tacos from Jack in the Box. The only thing is, you never know when the creepy guy is going to give you an ice cream with a razor blade inside it.

  Practicality? That’s a one-gallon carton of ice cream from the grocery store. Get ice cream for your entire family for the same price as you’d pay for a single ice pop out of the truck. No razor blades, no creepy guys. Scott was the ice cream truck, the creepy guy, and the one-dollar taco. Exciting. But definitely not steadfast. Paul was the grocery store. He was ever-present, stable, and could keep her nourished.

  So what the hell was she thinking? Why had she even considered it an okay idea to invite Scott to the house? Why had she not thrown the personal training sessions in the trash like she would any other advertisement for crap that would get you skinny and make you feel great … only, you knew it was a total lie?

  The answer came to her then, with clarity so startling she felt like she’d stepped outside on a winter night and was having trouble catching her breath in the freezing air. Because keeping both men in her life was like having a conversation with her mother. It was holding up the options, one in each hand, weighing them for suitability, measuring them for adequacy.

  It was hearing Mama read off the weights and measurements, compare them like two apples at the farmer’s market. If she let Scott go, let him disappear completely, that conversation was over. And her mother was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “So remind me again why we’re here with you, and Jake isn’t?” Josie studied her reflection—and the obvious signs of exhaustion on her face—in the exam room mirror.

  Puffiness under the eyes, pale skin, lips pursed, almost in a disapproving way. And for a quick moment, it was her mother staring back at her, disappointment reflected in her eyes.

  “I haven’t even told Jake yet,” Delaney said, edging herself up onto the exam table. “I wanted a medical professional to verify it first.”

  Summer, who was sitting in the room’s single chair with her hand on her lower abdomen, laughed. “Twelve pregnancy tests don’t lie, my sister.”

  Josie pinched her cheeks, hoping to bring some color into them. Delaney laid back on the exam table and put her head on the pillow. The paper liner crinkled.

  “I know,” she said. “It’s just that I wanted to be sure. You know? We’ve both been so stressed out lately, with the wedding planning, Jake’s gallery just opening, and me working full-time at Dr. Rick’s. Add a baby into the mix and everything gets even more intense. I don’t want to bring it up until I know for sure and have a due date and all that good stuff.”

  Now Josie pulled lip gloss out of her purse and leaned toward the mirror to apply it. “How far along do you think you are?” she asked Delaney.

  Delaney stared at a photo on the ceiling. Josie looked up to see what was holding her interest. Someone had obviously cut it off some scenic calendar: a field of yellow flowers against a celadon sky. Peaceful.

  “I have no idea,” Delaney said.

  “Well, when did you last have your period?” Josie said.

  “I honestly can’t remember,” Delaney said. “Everything’s been so busy. I didn’t even notice.”

  “No wonder you looked like a sausage in all those wedding dresses,” Josie said.

  She thought it had been a thought, but realized too late the sentence had actually come out of her mouth. Delaney sat straight up again, the field of yellow flowers obviously not putting her into a state of serenity like it was supposed to. Her face was flushed. Josie flinched, and in the mirror she could see Summer’s shocked expression staring back at her.

  “You’re the one who said it!” Josie said, then quickly added, “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, Dee. We’ll find you the right dress. You didn’t look like a sausage. I swear. You said it, right? You’re the one that said the sausage thing. I was just using your words.”

  “What’s up with you, Josie?” Summer said. She was suddenly on her feet, standing behind Josie, her hands on her shoulders and her face peering into the mirror right next to Josie’s.

  “What do you mean?” Josie asked.

  “I mean, you’re standing over here, examining your face like you’re looking for a hidden message or something. You’re distracted. You’re not
yourself. Only, you are yourself, because you’re obviously stressed out and you’re blurting out mean shit because of it. So what’s up with you?”

  A quiet triple knock sounded at the door, and the three girls jumped.

  Summer returned to the seat, and Josie went to stand next to her. Delaney remained sitting up, her hands clasped in her lap. The doctor walked into the room, smiling.

  “Well, Ms. Collins,” she said. “You’re well-fortified.”

  They all laughed, and the tension from the previous moment dissipated.

  “Which is wonderful,” she went on, “because you’re going to have a big cheering squad.”

  Silence.

  “Congratulations,” the doctor said. “You’re pregnant.”

  Summer smiled a smug smile, and Josie reached out to grab Delaney’s hand.

  “Here’s where it gets even better,” the doctor said. “You’re already at sixteen weeks. So you’re through the first trimester. Today we’ll get you scheduled for your twenty-week ultrasound.”

  Delaney went paler than pale. Alabaster. Josie stepped forward quickly and forced Delaney’s head down between her knees. Summer pulled a bottled water out of her purse and unscrewed the cap.

  “I know. It’s a bit of a shock,” the doctor said. “You weren’t even positive you were pregnant and now you’re almost halfway through. Fun stuff.”

  “Fun stuff,” Delaney said, her voice muffled.

  “Have some water,” Summer said.

  Delaney sat up, took the water bottle, drank.

  “Shortest pregnancy ever,” Summer said. “I’m jealous. It’s a good thing, Dee. You still have plenty of time to get ready. I have tons of stuff you can borrow.”

  “You’re having another baby. You can’t give me all your stuff.”

  “We’ll throw you a kick-ass shower,” Josie said. “We’ll get you all set up.”

  “Is there a Mr. Collins?” the doctor asked.

  Josie laughed out loud at the doctor’s question. “It’s Mr. Rhoades,” she said. “They’re engaged. Their wedding date is August 5.”

  Now the doctor laughed out loud, too. “That’s your due date, honey. Congratulations.”

  ***

  The Sand Witch was so busy the girls had to sit outside at one of the umbrella tables. Josie thought it was a bit windy for sitting outside. Her hair kept getting caught in her lip gloss. But Delaney and Summer didn’t seem to mind. They had other things to think about. Like a wedding. New babies. A family.

  She had nothing.

  “So, you gonna move your wedding date?” Summer said as she scrubbed the glass tabletop with an antibacterial wipe she pulled from her purse.

  “I guess I have to,” Delaney said.

  “Move it up,” Josie said. “Let’s do it this spring.”

  “This spring?” Delaney said. “This is spring!”

  “I know,” Josie said. “But we can get it done.”

  “I agree,” Summer said as Blake delivered their sandwiches. “I mean, why not? You guys already plan on getting married, why not do it now?”

  “Yeah. Why not?” Josie said.

  “She’s delirious,” Summer said to Josie. “Look at her.”

  Josie laughed. “I’ll call the golf club and see if they can move it up to this month or next month. Let’s just start with that. If not, we can always have it at a park or something. I’ll look into it. Leave it to me.”

  This renewed sense of purpose made Josie ravenous, and she took a huge bite of her sandwich. She chewed aggressively, until Summer broke in: “So what is up with you, anyway? You never answered at the doctor’s office.”

  Josie froze mid-chew. She picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth.

  “Nothing,” she said, then, “Nothing. Why?”

  “You know why,” Delaney said.

  “This is your day,” Josie said. “We’re celebrating. Let’s not talk about me.”

  “Nice try,” Summer said. “Nice. But no.”

  The chewing continued.

  “Go ahead and procrastinate,” Delaney said. “But we’re cracking this, right here, right now.”

  “Fine,” Josie said. “Paul isn’t coming home anytime soon. I thought he was. But he’s not. And yes, I’m stressed. And no, I don’t want to talk about it. Okay? Not only do I not want to ruin this celebratory, happy day, but I also don’t want to dwell on it. I’m freaking out. I have no idea what to do.”

  Delaney and Summer looked at each other.

  “You guys! I’m so sick of seeing you guys look at each other like that. Like you’re both thinking the same thing but you won’t say it to me. What are you thinking?”

  They looked at each other again. Josie sighed, and made sure it was extra-loud.

  “Things were going so well,” Summer said. “What happened? What did you do?”

  ***

  Josie remembered the moment she realized—no, knew—her mom was right about choosing practicality over romance. The conversation with her mother could have ended there. But it didn’t. Josie made sure it continued, to her own detriment.

  Her mom’s funeral was planned for a Friday. Although Scott distracted Josie with fun activities, like having her give him local tours in a city where he’d actually grown up, he had been conspicuously absent whenever it came time to think about funeral details.

  He just disappeared. Naturally, Summer stepped in, leading Josie through all the decisions just like she’d lead one of her children through a zoo, carefully, thoughtfully, pointing out details, guiding Josie in the right direction.

  When it was all over, Scott returned, never once mentioning Mama’s name or asking about her habits, her quirks, her tamales. It was as if she hadn’t died. It was as if she hadn’t existed. Scott’s avoidance of the topic at once numbed Josie and hurt her. Then there was Paul. During one of their dates to The Sand Witch, the place where she sat this very moment with her two best friends, Josie mentioned, in an off-handed way, that her mother had died recently. Paul reached across the table and took her hand. He asked all the questions she wanted him to ask, giving her the opportunity to talk about her mom at length.

  She told him how she’d inherited her mother’s propensity for laughing when she was angry. She told him how her mom had loved making tortillas, how the scent of flour filled the house every weekend. She told him how crushed she’d been when her mother died, and how she had wished innumerable times that she could tell her how much she loved her. To Josie’s own surprise, she even told Paul how her mother had urged her to choose practicality over romance, to ditch the flowers and poetry in favor of someone stable and supportive.

  That was the proverbial lightbulb moment.

  Everything became clear.

  Josie felt herself transform.

  She went from being a frenzied, uptight woman in search of something so intangible she could never describe it, to feeling serene, in control, and like she had absolutely everything she wanted and needed, right here at the table in the window of The Sand Witch.

  “You really love her, don’t you?” Paul said.

  His use of the present tense turned her insides into warm candle wax, malleable and soft, and she felt in love with him on the spot. When had she gone from warm candle wax to cold, hard… whatever she had turned into?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Back in present time, Summer and Delaney looked at Josie expectantly.

  “What was the question?” she said.

  “What went wrong?” Summer said. “Why isn’t Paul moving back in?”

  All of a sudden, Josie began to cry. She felt her mouth open and her eyes squeeze shut, involuntarily, and she didn’t know if she could control her expression.

  She heard Delaney say under her breath, “Oh, my God,” and Josie sobbed out a laugh before lapsing into full-on crying again.

  “Josie!” Summer said. “What’s going on?”

  In a rush of words, Josie described everything that had happened recently with Scott in th
e doorway, with Paul in the kitchen, with Blair at work. Finally, she got to the part about the divorce papers. Delaney grabbed Summer’s hand on the tabletop, so hard her knuckles went white.

  “My life is a mess,” Josie said as she finished. She wasn’t crying anymore (she had just cried herself dry in thirty seconds) but she stared at her hands on the table. A period of silence passed.

  When she finally looked up at her friends, she realized they had frozen. For the first time she could remember in the twenty years since they’d known each other, they didn’t know what to say. Or they did, and they were choosing not to say it.

  ***

  Josie walked into Juniper Junior High School on the first day of eighth grade, her binder clasped tightly to her chest, her eyes wide as she took in millions of students milling around the quad like so many bees swarming the berries on an overripe strawberry plant.

  The buzzing was almost unbearable, and Josie found her feet felt completely stuck, her body immobile with fear.

  Why had she let her mom braid her hair? Most of the other girls wore their hair loose and flowing and she felt old-fashioned.

  Josie’s mother had promised Arizona would provide their family with opportunity far beyond what they’d had in California. Right now, at this very moment, all Josie saw was the opportunity for loneliness. Her school in California was tiny in comparison, a shoebox of a building with only four classrooms compared to this compound, which had at least forty.

  She continued to stand in place, becoming increasingly overwhelmed by the noise, the sheer volume of it all. Just as she felt her heart rate begin to rise, two girls approached her. Just like all the others, they wore their hair loose. Just like all the others, their jeans and tennis shoes sharply contrasted Josie’s black skirt, white blouse and shiny Mary Jane shoes. What made them different, though, was that they noticed her. And they approached her, smiling with a combination of empathy and curiosity.