From This Day Forward

by Shannon Myers

  I pause and glance up at Dr. White taking notes. She nods for me to continue.

  I recount the past three days for her, culminating in sex with Landon and the bombshell of Katie being pregnant, leading up to my panic attack, “The biggest arguments we had over the past year dealt with starting a family and now he’s decided that he’s on board, but not with me. It’s so incredibly cruel. I just feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore. He’s taken everything from me—he won!’ I spit the words out as if they leave a bad taste in my mouth and try fanning my eyes again to dry the tears.

  “Elizabeth, what has Landon won?”

  “Everything—he got me for four years and he had her on the side. Now, she’s giving him a baby and I’m left with nothing. I gave him everything and what do I have to show for it?”

  Dr. White just listens intently, never changing her facial expression. It’s kind of a relief to talk about this mess without getting pitying looks. She makes a few more notes before breaking the silence.

  “Let’s talk about what you did the night he left. How did you cope?”

  “I listened to music, cleaned the entire house, and cried—a lot.”

  “We’ve identified previously that you turn to cooking or cleaning as a coping mechanism when things get overwhelming, but I want you to look at your cleaning symbolically. Your husband leaves a pretty big stain upon your marriage. You scrubbing your home top to bottom—it’s your brain’s way of coping with this loss.”

  I look down at the pillow in my arms before answering, “I guess that’s one way of looking at it, but it was a pretty crummy solution seeing as to how he’s still gone and the stain’s still there—which is why I’m sitting in front of you right now.”

  “Elizabeth, coping isn’t necessarily meant to be a solution to our problems. It’s just how we deal with tough situations—some people hit the gym and work out their frustrations, some people binge on comfort foods, and some people even turn to drugs and alcohol.”

  Her voice is so soothing—there’s no hint of judgment. She just makes you feel like you’re talking to a close friend. A close friend you pay by the hour, mind you, but a friend nonetheless.

  “I’m really struggling to cope with my marriage falling apart. There’s just this part of me that can’t accept that he’s gone. I think of how his friends and family must have reacted and it’s like a knife to the heart. They hated me and I imagine they’re all thrilled to know that I’m out of the picture now.”

  Dr. White takes a sip of her tea, “The night of the anxiety attack, when you felt yourself losing control, did you take any of your anxiety medication?”

  “No, I sort of just let the rage and anxieties take over.” Suddenly uncomfortable with where these questions are going, I chew on my lower lip and try to focus my attention on the large clock hanging on the wall behind her head.

  Her office gives the impression that you’ve left Lubbock far behind and arrived in some faraway land with the warm colors on the walls, rich silk pillows, and ornate curtains. The lights are dim and there are candles burning on the table while classical music plays softly in the background. Everything in this room is calming. I’m so engrossed in taking in my surroundings that I don’t hear her next question.

  “I’m sorry—what?”

  She gives me a bemused look, “I asked if you’ve taken any of your medication since Sunday night?”

  I try to think back over the past few days before responding, “Oh…Um—no.”

  “In addition to what we’ve already discussed, have you been drinking to cope with this event or are you currently under the influence of alcohol or another substance?”

  I cringe and let out a sigh, “Yes, I’ve been drinking basically since he left.”

  She notes my response, “Have you had any thoughts of harming yourself?”

  Wow, she really knows how to make a person squirm. “The day after he left, I went into his closet because it smelled like him and while I was in there, I saw his gun collection. I’m not going to lie; a small part of me wondered what it would be like to put an end to this misery. It was just too much for me to deal with—but, the funny thing is that even though I’d contemplated some dark things the day after he left me, even I couldn’t convince myself that he was worth it.” I place my head into the pillow, weeping.

  If she is shaken by my revelation, she hides it extremely well, “So you don’t feel that it’s something you would act on?”

  “No—God no. Right after Landon left the pain was just unbearable—this crushing weight on my chest making it hard to breathe.”

  Dr. White leans forward in her chair, “What about now?”

  I snort, “Now I just feel cheated—in every sense of the word. As little girls we’re told by every movie we watch that our Prince Charming will come and save us from our ordinary lives. My Prince Charming saved me only to throw me over the side of a fucking cliff when I became an inconvenience.” The tears start back up and I focus on a spot on the carpet, trying to compose myself.

  “Okay, Elizabeth, I want you to do something for me. I think you need to stop drinking—alcohol is only going to intensify the dark feelings you’re experiencing. I’m going to up your medication temporarily and I want you to promise me you’ll take it. Also, I want to see you in my office once a week until you feel in control of this situation and these emotions. You have a lot of anger that we need to work through.”

  I’m still staring at the carpet, wrapping a tissue around my finger like a bandage. I begrudgingly admit, “You’re right—I haven’t even thought about my medication during this entire situation. I haven’t thought of anything but what he’s done to me.”

  She continues, “I also think it would be in your best interest to sever contact with Landon for the time being as he seems to be the biggest trigger in all of this and his behavior is destructive—,”

  I know that she’s right, but the thought of staying away from him seems impossible right now and it shows on my face. He’s my drug of choice. Take away everything else, just leave him.

  “I know that it’s not a permanent solution, but until you’re in a better spot emotionally—we can’t take the chance of you relapsing. This latest encounter with him has just muddied the water. In the meantime, I want you to list your strengths and come up with some ideas for working through these negative emotions. Think of things you enjoyed doing before, write them down, and let’s come up with things you can do for yourself when you feel an attack coming on.”

  I dab at my eyes and tell her that I agree.

  She pauses before continuing. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened last night when you left Landon and Jess arguing?”

  I know I should feel ashamed by what I’ve done and I try to force my expression to convey that, but it’s no use. I can feel a smile starting before I even begin. I try biting my lip. “I went into Landon’s closet and took a pair of scissors to every dress shirt and tie in there until he and Jess came in.”

  “And how did Landon react to that?” How she’s able to keep a straight face is beyond me.

  “Um, not well.” That’s the understatement of the year. He lost it—and made sure that every item of his was out of the house before he left. I don’t think Jess’s reaction helped matters much either. When they stumbled into the closet and found me, sitting in the floor, making fabric swatches out of his expensive work attire, Jess immediately fell against the door laughing. Like a small child being encouraged by a parent, I smiled up at her and continued cutting before Landon ripped the scissors from my hands, screaming, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Elizabeth? Are you insane?”

  At this, she leans over and takes my hand. “You are so much more than this behavior and deep inside of you there is a strong woman waiting to rise up from the ashes.”

  After promising to be in her office the following Friday morning, I stand up and hug her goodbye. She stops me at the door, “Elizabeth, given the amount of stress you’ve been un
der, it wouldn’t surprise me if you were trying to find a scenario or a way to change the outcome of all of this. I’m just not certain that destruction of personal property is your best solution.” She laughs at the last part and ushers me out of her office.

  Once I get home, I decide to allow myself until the end of the day to wallow in thoughts of Landon. Tomorrow will be a new start. I climb into bed and pull out my cell phone—it’s time to listen to the three voicemails that he left the other night. I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck, like a boxer preparing for a match, before plucking up the courage to press play.

  I check the time on the first message, 7:45 PM. His voice carries across the bedroom, invading every pore of my body, “Elizabeth, I never heard back from you yesterday. I’m still planning on coming by to get some of my things this evening. Call me back.” Hmm…he sounds pretty sober so far.

  Message number two came in at 8:16 PM.

  “Elizabeth, I don’t know if you’re ignoring me, but I really need you to call me back and let me know if you’ll be there to let me in. You know I left my garage door opener and key there Sunday night. Please call me.” Okay, he sounds a little more desperate in that one, but still not drunk like I saw him when he was on my doorstep.

  Message number three was sent at 10:08 PM.

  “Baby (baby?), answer the phone please. I need you. I’m worried about you—[inaudible mumbling and crying]—I’m coming over right now.” I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He called me a pet name, he’s never done that before. I don’t even want to think about how wasted he was or how he managed to make it to my house in one piece.

  I press delete and the messages are gone—just like he is. I’ve just lost the one man who promised to love me until death and before I can even fully come to terms with that, he comes over and informs me that his mistress is pregnant.

  Now he’s gone, probably for good. Gone are the late night movie marathons together, the feel of him lying in bed next to me, his off-key singing in the shower...also gone are the disappointed looks, him berating me for not trying harder with his friends, anxiety attacks that occurred at inopportune times—is this what freedom feels like?

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Elizabeth, I really feel like we’ve made some progress this last month. You just seem more like yourself.” Dr. White assesses me from her chair. I’ve been in her office once a week over the past four weeks. I’ve been taking my medication exactly as prescribed. She’s right, I can feel myself coming out on the other side. Jess decided to move in with me and I think just having someone here has kept me grounded. I’ve also gone back to work and Lauren has been my rock while I’m there.

  That’s not to say I haven’t had setbacks. It’s still the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep, but the absolute crushing enormity of it all is lessening with each day. I have to remind myself that he isn’t coming back and that it has nothing to do with me.

  I experienced an aforementioned setback late one night. I was having trouble sleeping and decided to send some racy photos to Landon. I posed in my bra and panties along with the caption—“Do you see what you’re missing? I bet Katie can’t pull this off.” I’ll admit it wasn’t my finest moment (I cringe even at the memory of it), but I was completely shocked when Jess walked in a few moments later. She confiscated my phone before informing me that she’d deleted Landon’s number from my phone, adding her cell phone number to his contact.

  She told me I’d get my phone back when I could make better decisions before yawning and heading for the door, “By the way, from the photos it looks like you need to hit the gym with me tomorrow morning,” she tossed the words over her shoulder and laughed as she made her way back to her bedroom.

  In the entire time I’d been with Landon I’d lost touch with so many people that I used to call friends and the truth was that Jess was the only one who’d stuck with me through the good times and the absolutely gut-wrenching horrible times. Only a true friend would see a picture of you half-naked and not be afraid to tell you to get to a gym.

  I decided to add early morning workouts to my list of strengths. And by “I decided” I mean that my new room-mate came in every morning at 5:30, switched on the bedroom lights, and refused to leave until I drug myself out of bed. I thought that Jillian from The Biggest Loser was a tough trainer—she had nothing on Jess Davis. By the second week of training with her, I found to my surprise that I didn’t despise it as much. I hadn’t made peace with the treadmill yet, but I actually found myself looking forward to the strength training. I’ve replaced drinking with exercise and I find that not only is the anxiety much easier to manage, but I’m more relaxed.

  This continues until my doorbell rings one night. Jess is out on a date and I’m once again trying to catch up on Glee. I go to the door to find Mike, crying on my doorstep.

  I let him in and he sits on the couch looking like a lost puppy. “She left me, Elizabeth. Katie left me today. She said she’d met someone and that she hadn’t been happy for a while—and then she just walked out,” he chokes up.

  Oh no. She didn’t even have the courtesy to tell him who she left him for? “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced, but I thought Landon might be here. I couldn’t reach him on his cell, but I really need him to help me get through this.”

  He was really not up to speed on what was going on. I’d made no attempt to contact him in the days following my own abandonment. I guess I just figured Landon talked to him about us or that maybe Katie decided to come clean the same night I found out. I hadn’t even had the courage to confront Katie, there was no way I was about to drop a bombshell on someone else’s marriage (weak, I know).

  I get up and walk into the kitchen. This was going to require a drink—for both of us. I find a couple of Heinekens in the back of the fridge (I guess Landon didn’t think to grab those) and I carefully place his beer on a coaster in front of him before sitting back in my armchair with mine.

  Mike and Landon grew up together. Even their mothers were close friends. Where Landon looked like an all-star quarterback; Mike looked like he belonged on a surfboard down by the Gulf.

  He used to wear his blonde hair shaggy and had only recently begun keeping it cut above the ears. He stood about five inches shorter than Landon, and he was the quiet one between the two of them—but there was something about him that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. He could be so intense when speaking on a subject he was passionate about, but he was incredible low-key the rest of the time. He was incredibly handsome too and here I was— about to wreck his entire world with what I knew.

  “Mike, there’s a reason that Landon isn’t here.” He takes a sip of his beer and looks over at me, waiting on me to elaborate. I sigh and just like picking a scab, open my wounds up all over again.

  He alternates between chugging his beer and putting his head in hands while I talk. Afterward, he just sits and stares at the fireplace, clenching and releasing his jaw. I don’t know if I should go over and hug him or let him process everything for a minute—I choose to sit tight and fight back the waves of nausea caused by reliving these events.

  “I’ve been with her for eight years—eight years—and now you’re telling me that for four of those years I’ve been sharing her with my best friend? And now, she’s having his baby?”

  I nod, not entirely sure if he’s really asking me or if it’s a rhetorical question. He gets up and walks over to the fireplace, his hands holding onto the bricks for support. I silently will him to take deep breaths and to not break anything in his anger. “And how in the hell does she know it’s his?”

  Okay, that came out of left field. I throw my hand up in a ‘wait’ gesture, “I—you—what? Hold on, you mean you and Katie have been…um, intimate, recently?”

  ‘Yeah, twice a week—nothing’s changed in that department. So, you can see how I’d be a little thrown by her leaving.”

  I bring my hands up to my ears in
a vain attempt to block the thought of them going at it from entering my mind. I don’t know what to say. I push my glasses up and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  He looks up at the large photo sitting on the mantle. It was taken on mine and Landon’s wedding day—yeah, I haven’t worked up to getting rid of mementos yet.

  Afraid he’s going to break it; I walk over and place my hand on his arm. He pulls me into him, holding me against his chest. It’s strange to be held by him like this, but not entirely uncomfortable.

  “How are you so strong in all of this, Elizabeth? I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from this. He was my best friend. If we were having problems in our marriages, we went to each other. And he used all of that information against me to get my wife into bed! Now, he thinks he can raise a child that could possibly be mine too?”

  I wonder what kinds of things Landon went to him with. I imagine it went something like—“My wife is a nutcase who suffers from anxiety attacks. I bet your wife doesn’t do that, mind if I sleep with her?”

  Oh God, this situation is so messed up. It’s like something you’d see in a Lifetime movie—Her Husband’s Best Friend and the Baby: a Story of Awkwardness and Paternity Tests.

  I try to pull away from his tight grip, “I’m not strong, Mike—just heavily medicated and seeing my therapist once a week to try to make sense of all of this. She should have her Mercedes paid off soon thanks to me.” I’m trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not working on him.

  He holds me tighter and begins crying again and I feel myself on the verge of joining him as we share the same pain. Then he lays his head on my shoulder and moves his hands down my lower back—I stiffen. I’m right up against his hips and while he’s mourning, it’s obvious that his body is looking to forget things for a while. Are they all like this—or just the ones I’m running into lately?