“Like with you and Dad?”
“Exactly like with me and Dad,” Jennifer admitted, rubbing her forehead. “It’s better not to commit to one lifestyle before you know for sure what you want. But, eventually, we all do need to choose. Waffling back and forth between different sides of yourself is exhausting, and it’s not good for anybody involved. If you’re confused, it’s okay to step back and reevaluate. The journey never ends, so don’t let anybody tell you that you need to choose right away. Take all the time you need.”
Veronica leaned against her, much like she used to do when she was an elementary schooler and had had a hard day. “So, you don’t think it’s too late with Erick? For me to go out with him, even with Tim and his friends talking trash about me?”
Jennifer embraced her daughter. “If you think about it seriously and decide that’s really what you want, and if you tell him the truth about what happened and why you changed your mind, then no. I don’t think it’s ever too late. Not for any of us.”
Over the next couple of weeks, Jennifer ruminated on Veronica’s situation and her own. Michael’s behavior had settled into a routine of coolness rather than frigidity, but the essential issues between them remained unchanged.
At least Jennifer had the pleasure of seeing her eldest daughter take steps to renew her friendship with this Erick kid. And, despite his “small” tattoos, she’d listened to what Veronica had said about the guy, and she approved. Jennifer and her daughter had reached a new phase in their relationship, and it was one of slightly better understanding. So, when Erick called Veronica at home for the first time in weeks, Jennifer gave her daughter a thumbs-up and, in return, earned a rare, jubilant grin from her not-so-little girl.
Shelby still sequestered herself in her room more often than not, but Jennifer was well versed in this form of escapism and, on a few occasions, had managed to slip into her youngest daughter’s fantasy world by joining her in a video game. Baby steps but, over time, they could get a person pretty far.
Jennifer was still struggling to unite emotion and logic in her attempt at figuring out the next leg of her marital journey. Like the song “Both Sides Now,” she’d looked at love from every possible angle, yet she couldn’t help but feel she didn’t understand the concept much at all. That she required a more definitive period of reflection, if only to make the distinction of taking a break more visible to herself. That, in fact, she needed to physically remove herself from the household for a little while.
So, when the chill of mid-December had fully seeped into her bones and her husband and children were about to begin their two-week winter break, she could no longer ignore the obvious. She sat down with Michael. She told him she had to take the advice she had given their daughter and take a few steps back.
“Your situations aren’t similar at all,” Michael informed her after Jennifer explained about the long talks she’d been having with Veronica lately. “The girls will feel abandoned if you leave the house. It’s selfish of you even to consider it.”
Jennifer inhaled deeply and, for a second, closed her eyes, so as to better listen for that quiet voice she had been training herself to hear.
“Michael, this isn’t easy for me to say, but I’ve been trying to sort this out at home and not create a disruption in all of our lives for a long time now. If I thought I could do it while I was here at home, I would. But it’s not working for me anymore to just fake it and hope I can feel the way you want me to. You deserve better than that. And I believe it’s more selfish to stay with someone and unfairly hobble their growth than it is to pull away for a few weeks or a month. It’s time for me to finally be honest with you about my doubts.”
“What the hell, Jennifer? You couldn’t have dealt with your doubts before we got married?” he spit out.
She bobbed her head. “It would’ve been much better if I had.” She took a step toward him and gently touched his arm. He didn’t look as though he liked the gesture, but he didn’t move away either. “Listen, please. I know I haven’t been fair to you or to the girls, but I’m really trying to right this wrong…finally. I’m trying to make a true commitment to you, Michael. It’s just that loyalty to oneself has to come before loyalty to others. And I want a chance to start over more slowly, more mindfully.”
She swallowed away the bitterness she could still taste over her own indecision. Maybe marriage had never been the right path for her. Maybe she was someone who should just live alone. Or, maybe, she and Michael simply needed to get to know one another as new people, as they were right now, not as twenty-somethings. But, no matter what, she felt an acute responsibility to her daughters to get this right. This problem between them was no longer just about her own growth. For once, she needed to guide her children by good example.
“Does this sudden decision have anything to do with that David bastard?” he asked coldly.
She shook her head. “No. That chapter is over. He isn’t any part of my life, Michael. And this decision, it isn’t sudden.”
She was being fully truthful on both points. Even when David sent her a text message or an e-mail, as he was sometimes inclined to do, she usually deleted those missives, unread. And she never answered them. Until recently, the burden of having carried around her past had been like lugging twice her body weight in rocks. The relief she had felt in being able to let all that go was intoxicating. Next, though, she had to face her marriage and hope she would be able to achieve some sense of certainty again, especially now that the cobwebs of the past had been cleared away.
So, Jennifer took her laptop (so she could continue her Web design work) and checked into a cheap motel for the duration of the winter break. “Think of it like an artist’s retreat,” she told her daughters, promising they would still see her or talk to her every day for a little while. She reiterated how much she loved them and that she just needed to sort out a few thoughts.
“You’ll try to be back soon?” Michael murmured to her before she drove away.
“I’ll really try,” she said, but she refused to set a definitive time line for herself. She would take whatever weeks, or months, she needed, and the experience would likely be far harder than she wanted it to be, but she had tamped down her true emotions for too many years, and she wanted to get them back. The journey to recognizing her natural instincts was like Peter Frampton’s road—long and winding—but Jennifer suspected it would be worth the trip.
And last but not least…
24
“Tamara & the Perplexing Prince”
Thanksgiving through Late December
Once upon a time, in a neighborhood of some riches—in property, if not in affection—resided Tamara. She was known as a woman who would willingly plunge her hands into the subterranean depths of her garden’s soil bed to make its bountifulness bloom, but who was, conversely, afraid of digging too deeply into the well of her own psyche.
A resident of a nearby kingdom (some five houses down the street and on the left, to be exact), presented a most baffling problem for her: He was markedly different from any man she had ever met. She did not like this. Aaron was his name, and he had an unsettling way of challenging her. She really did not like that.
She did, however, like the way he looked in tight pants, a fact she had been ruminating about for some time at the airport while waiting for her son’s flight to arrive. A piece of her heart was coming home for Thanksgiving break, and she could not be happier.
“Benji!” she cried when her lanky nineteen-year-old hugged her at O’Hare’s arrival terminal. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He pecked the top of her head with a kiss. “It’s not like I’m back from a war zone, Mom. Just Texas.”
“Well, you can never be sure. ‘Remember the Alamo’ and all…y’all.”
He laughed.
They returned to the house, empty of any other residents. Benji’s father, Jon, was still away on his latest business trip, and Tamara had yet to explain to their son that, while Jon wo
uld return for the holiday, he would not be staying. The fear of inflicting pain on her only child weighed heavily upon her heart, but she could no longer delay telling Benji about his parents’ impending divorce.
So, after bringing her son his choice of a refreshing carbonated beverage, the two of them chatted in his childhood bedroom while Benji unpacked his belongings for his week-long visit.
“What’s your roommate doing this week?” Tamara asked, finding herself mesmerized as she watched him pull out a couple of sweaters from his suitcase, refold them and place them—almost neatly—in his oak dresser drawer. She remembered getting him that sturdy piece of furniture when he was about nine. The way he used to always shove his T-shirts and sweatpants in there—cripes, what a mess! He’d stuff the drawers to full capacity and slam them shut, always trapping a sleeve or a pant leg between the planks of wood, so the drawers had colorful bits of fabric peeking out everywhere. She smiled to herself. He was so grown up now.
“Lance is staying in Austin for the break. He’s gonna go home to Atlanta for Christmas, but it was a little too expensive for him to fly back right now, only to do it again in a few weeks. Plus, he’s got his job and already signed up to work a bunch of extra hours. He’s a great guy.”
Tamara nodded. “Sounds like it.” She paused when she saw him set his shaving kit down right between his prized Cubs baseball (autographed by ten team members when he was thirteen) and his old rubber alligator (that he’d tried to scare her with a million times when he was in junior high). She swallowed. “So, any girlfriends or anything?”
Her mostly adult son blushed and shook his head. “Just girls who are friends, Mom.”
“For now,” she said, suspecting the truth behind his embarrassment. “But you’re hoping that’ll change with one of them, right?”
“Right.” He grinned at her. “Okay, fine. Her name’s Abby. She’s a sociology major. And she’s from Ohio. Can we stop talking about this now?”
Tamara laughed. She’d let him talk about whatever the hell he wanted for a while, which turned out to be a lengthy monologue on the bizarreness of his physics prof, Dr. Shane.
“He smokes a pipe in his office,” Benji said, rolling his eyes. “It’s like a tobacco shop in there. We all had to go in to talk about our semester projects, and I thought I was gonna suffocate. And, oh! There was this one time when he lugged this freakin’ huge engine into class to demonstrate the properties of thermodynamics….”
But when he began to run out of steam on college tales, Tamara knew she had to direct the conversation elsewhere.
“Benji,” she began. “There’s something I need to tell you.” And, with that, she explained how she and his father had both been rather frustrated with each other. That they tended to be happier people when doing things independently. And that, really, they’d been having some problems for a few years, but they were—
Benji stopped her, midspeech. “Not for a few years, Mom. You and Dad have been at each others’ throats for as long as I can remember.” He sighed. “So, what are you telling me? You two are finally calling it quits?”
“Afraid so, sweetheart.”
He grunted and bobbed his head at her. “You okay?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. She’d seen the flash of hope in his eyes dissipate the moment she confirmed his theory, but there were other emotions visible on his face, too, and she’d been trying hard to read them. In some ways, he was as transparent as always. She definitely spotted sadness in his eyes. A little anger, too. A hint of deflation at being forced to give up the fantasy of a warm and fuzzy family life. But there was something else in his expression, as well. Was she wrong or had she, maybe, called this right? In addition to all of the above, did he also seem…relieved?
“I’m okay,” she said. “Are you okay?”
He chuckled, kind of, and covered her hand with his. “Well, it’s not like it’s great news or anything. But, yeah. I’m okay.” Then he glanced around the room and squinted at a few of his high-school posters. One famous athlete. One rock star. One scantily clothed Miss September. “So, uh, are you selling the house?” A touch of worry graced his brow, but he quickly camouflaged it by running his palm across his forehead.
In this at least, Tamara suspected she could ease her son’s anxiety a tiny bit. “Your dad and I discussed it, but once we took a serious look at the housing market, we realized now wouldn’t be a good time to sell. Perhaps things will pick up in a few years, but we knew we wouldn’t get the price we were looking for in the next year, so I offered to buy out your dad. That way the house will stay in my possession, and your room will look just as it does now. Only, perhaps, a little tidier.” She grinned at him, and he grinned back.
He had a few questions, of course: “How can you afford to do that?” To which she explained about her inheritance from Aunt Eliza and how this would use up over half of it, but that she considered it a good long-term real-estate investment. Plus, she really loved the house because it held so many of her happiest memories. “Are you giving Dad a fair deal?” Absolutely. She was paying Jon half of what they’d decided the house was worth, not what it would currently sell for. (She did not add that, from her point of view, it was well worth the financial risk, even if she didn’t recoup her profits later. This was the home where her son had grown up. She wanted it to still be here for him.) “Do you really want to stay in the neighborhood?” Unequivocally, yes.
She also explained the Christmas plans. That Jon would tell him more about his road-trip idea when they were all together for Thanksgiving, but that Jon was taking a couple of weeks off at the end of the year and wanted to spend some father-son time with him. That he’d hoped Benji would be up for a pilgrimage to the Baseball Hall of Fame and, maybe, some cool science museums and exhibits.
Benji looked pleased with the plan and even more pleased with his parents’ seeming amicability. When Jon returned from his business trip a few days later, the three of them spent a calm, cordial and, alternately, heartbreaking Thanksgiving together. Tamara couldn’t help but feel pangs of wistfulness, wishing her marriage would have lasted forever, but she realized the freedom of their imminent separation was what it took for them to achieve this peaceful, easy companionship now.
In the weeks that followed—with Benji back at school, Jon based in an apartment downtown and both of them planning to be away on their road trip until the end of the year—Tamara had the house completely to herself. She started putting out feelers for marketing consulting positions and was pleased to receive a bit of interest from a couple of small companies for one-time jobs that might lead to further appointments. It wouldn’t be enough to live on, but it was enough to help her get her feet wet after so many years away.
Of course, in addition to rebuilding her professional life from the ground up, she also had to deal with her relationship with Aaron.
On the first day of December, the ink on her divorce papers (on which she’d marked the Irreconcilable Differences box) having barely dried, she walked over to Aaron’s house, her stomach fluttering, and rang the bell.
He opened the door, unsmiling. “Long time, no see.”
She pushed her way in, closed the door behind her and pulled his very unyielding body into her arms. “Hi to you, too,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
He cleared his throat, stepped back and regarded her with a look she could only describe as suspicious.
“What?” she said when he refused to hug her. “I’ve been busy. Benji was home for a week. Jon was in and out, on business trips and moving into his own apartment. There was the whole Thanksgiving thing, and we had to meet with the attorneys yesterday and sign the freakin’ divorce papers. So, don’t look at me like I’ve been ignoring you or something.”
“Tamara.” He took a deep breath. “You do not sleep with a guy for six straight days and then not talk to him at all for two weeks.” He crossed his arms. “You understand that, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Wel
l, yes. I wouldn’t normally do that, but I was kind of preoccupied with the ending of my marriage.” She looked around the room. “Where’s Sharky?”
“At the groomer. My sisters were giving me shit over Thanksgiving about his doggy hygiene, and one of them insisted on taking him to her dog’s groomer guy. She picked him up an hour ago and”—he glanced at his watch—“said she’d have him back in less than two. So…”
“So, I can’t talk you into a quickie on the couch, huh?”
He blinked at her and, in spite of a very obvious attempt to keep a stern expression, smirked ever so slightly. “Nope. Not this time.”
“But you’re tempted, right? Even though I’m an awful neighbor and a wildly inconsiderate lover, who probably should’ve stopped by to give you flowers or something after our first week of sex, you still kinda want me, don’t you?”
His smile grew more conspicuous. “Well, you did bring me those roses once, I suppose.”
“And about the wanting me part?”
He shook his head in apparent negation—Tamara’s heart almost stopped beating—but then he whispered, “Yes.”
“Good,” she said. And this time he brought her to him and kissed her.
After making out for a few minutes, though, he pulled back and said, “Just so you know, I don’t appreciate this laissez-faire attitude of yours. I understand how you must’ve been very busy, but don’t act as though how you treat me doesn’t matter one way or another. It matters.”
Friday Mornings at Nine Page 35