Love, Michael: A second chance romance

by Gina A. Jones

  "It's right around this bend."

  I crane my neck. "Around there? I think that's private property."

  He looks back. "Yes, I believe you are right. However, that is where our dinner is waiting. Besides, they don't own the water's edge."

  He takes me by the hand and leads me around, stepping over large driftwood of trees and roots. A small dam of water separates the beach from the other side, and he picks me up and carries me across the water. "Michael, I don't want to get yelled at from being on someone's beachfront property."

  "There," he says, setting me to my feet.

  Up ahead, I see a private cabana set up with a table and chairs. A breeze blows the curtain, and I see a table is set for dinner and…champagne. Closer to the water, a fire burns low in a pit.

  "See, that's what I mean. This is private property."

  "Yes, I know. Mine. Come on," he says, pulling me along in the sand.

  I was right. Dinner has been set; lobster and corn on the cob. "How did you get this all set up?"

  "Monica and Jordan are staying here. But tonight, it's ours."

  "You bought this place?"

  "Yes, it's ours. To use anytime."

  I look up the steep stairs and see Monica and Jordan smiling down. Though, I can't make out their smiles from down here. But I know they're there. I wave, and she waves back.

  "Should still be hot, Dad," she yells down. Michael gives her a thumbs-up.

  "You two—I don't believe this."

  "You like?" I look around—private, quiet waves moving in and out on the sand. The sun sparkles down on the water and can't help but be amazed.

  "Yes, Michael. It's all charming. But I hope you didn't buy this place to just have dinner."

  "I bought it for us, Jill. I know you always wanted a place on the lake—camp on the beach and listen to the waves at night." He recalls something from our past. Another request I had, only to be called melodramatic and delusional.

  "That was a long time ago, Michael. People change."

  "Yes, I know. People do change. Stay with me on the beach tonight. We can talk about anything you want. You can cry in my arms for Tammy, and I'll cry with you."

  "Why are you doing this, Michael?"

  He gets down on one knee and takes my hand. "Because I love you." He reaches into the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulls out…a ring. He doesn't say a word and pushes the ring up my finger. I'm speechless—in shock. He then looks up, and his eyes are so full of…remorse?

  "Marry me, Jill. Don't answer now. Wear the ring and think about it for a few days. I know you have a lot on your mind with Tammy. But…wear it, feel it on your hand, and know I love you and will always be here for you."

  "Michael…I…"

  "Shh," he says and kisses the hand with his ring. "Not now. Let's have dinner and enjoy the sunset.”

  Then

  June came, and I graduated from high school and was now enrolled in a community college where I would earn my degree in nursing. And…I was due any day now to have the baby. I would spend most of my summer looking for a babysitter for when classes started in September. Though, my mom said she'd help. But her help came as an exasperated ‘I suppose.' I'd rather have a flat on ‘no.'

  Despite how much Tammy wanted to go into culinary, she signed up at the same community college under the same nursing program. She used the excuse that nursing would ensure her a job after graduation. Whether it was the case or not, I was happy. I was going to need her.

  Michael's newfound interest in wanting to try had already fizzled. He was back to no show most Friday and Saturday nights, traveling for business as he climbed the ladder at Whirlpool. But now that the baby was due any day, he did at least call in and check on me. I already had a backup plan—Tammy. She, after all was my Lamaze coach. Michael showed no interest in taking the class with me.

  The picture of us that Beth took hangs on a wall as you enter our apartment. Despite the words Michael spoke in my ear, it was a beautiful picture. Tammy was the only one who ever complimented it. My parents felt no need to have one. To them, my marriage was just as much as a charade as it was to Michael. And it didn't help that my parents wanted no part of Michael in their lives. Of which Michael used as an excuse never to come to family get-togethers. I doubt if he'd go anyway.

  Tammy and I had picked Monica for the baby's name. Another thing Michael had no interest in. As Michael's interest in his family dissipated more each day, I thought of ways to rekindle just an ounce of spontaneity. I knew Michael loved to waterski and found a place on Lake Michigan we could stay for free for the weekend. Tammy's uncle owned a resort and at times he would lend it out.

  It was Michael's birthday, and I surprised him with a picture of the place. The caption read: It's yours for the weekend. "I don't understand," he said.

  "I know you've been working hard and it's time to relax and do some skiing. There's a boat there too we can use."

  "When? This weekend?"

  "Yes. Tammy's uncle said this was the only free weekend it's open."

  He looked disappointed, and it didn't surprise me. He usually never came home on the weekends. I also knew now he had other girlfriends. They would call and be shocked when his wife answered the phone. We've had many fights about it. But it would lead to nowhere, and Michael would only remind me of our situation. To him, he was a knight doing me a favor. While I was only baggage.

  "I already have everything packed," I told him. There was no getting around it. We were going, and he was going to stay the weekend with me—his wife. And hopefully, I wouldn't go into labor.

  "Can I invite some of my buddies?" he asked.

  "Michael, I don't think that's a good idea. Tammy's uncle is trusting us with his place, free of charge. I don't think we should take advantage of that." He rolled his eyes and started to walk away. "Well?"

  "Fine," he said, annoyingly. "We'll go."

  I should have ended it right there. The more I fought for us, the more I felt ugly, unloved, and in the way around Michael. It was hard to find joy in my life, and I feared because of this, I wouldn't be a good mother.

  We took my car to the lake house that weekend because, even though we had a baby coming, Michael refused to give up his Corvette. He also suggested we drive separate. But I told him the sand whipping around might damage the paint on his car. Anything so he didn't have to be with me.

  I pulled into the drive and Michael appeared excited. "Well, what do you think?"

  "This is pretty nice."

  Maybe this weekend I could get him to try again. Get him to show some mercy and affection like he had a few months back. I would do anything just to have him love me. And that's the funny thing about love. It doesn't work that way. It's either there or isn't. But why was it there for me? Michael never gave me a reason to love him. Yet, I did.

  As we stood inside the big, open living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Lake Michigan. It was beautiful as the water sparkled for endless miles. I wrapped my arms around Michael. "Happy birthday. I love you, Michael. We have it all weekend, so maybe one night we can camp on the beach and listen to the waves as we sleep." I said and laid my head on his chest. "I hope you like it."

  "It's really nice. Tell your friend's uncle thanks." His arms weakly held around me and I could tell he was itching to get out of my embrace. So, I squeezed tighter. "So, where's this boat?" He broke our hug and went out the back door, leading down to the lake where a boat was tied to the pier inside awake.

  "Hey, I arranged for us to be here for your birthday and told you I love you. Are you going to say anything to me?" I was angry and was tired of being ignored. I was tired of sounding like I was jealous when all I wanted was his attention.

  "Are we going to fight about it here? I thought we came here for a good time. If you want to fight, we'll just go home."

  "Why? Just so you can leave and stay with your girlfriend?" I had had it. And maybe by being here we could have a fight without all the apartment nei
ghbors hearing. "Michael, despite how you qualify our marriage, I'm still your wife. I would like a little respect and affection from you. Is it too much to ask?"

  He stood up from the boat and placed his hands on his hips. "You know, Jill, maybe I would give you a little affection if you weren't such a bitch all the time."

  "How can you say that? All I do is love you and take care of you."

  "Oh, and I don't? Who pays for you? Who’s paying for your college? Who gives you a place to live? Who’s giving up four years of their life to help you? Who stuck by you when you got pregnant? Surely not your parents. Not your brother. Who gave you their credit card to buy baby shit? I don't see anyone else doing those things for you. And all you do is bitch at me."

  "Stop it," I cried. "You know what I mean. Why can't you love me?" I was crying hard, and once again my efforts were pointless. He twisted everything in his view to look like a martyr. He was the one sacrificing everything, while I stayed home and cried night after night, knowing he was with another woman. The mind games never ended with him. I didn't want to apologize, but I knew if I didn't, it would be like this the entire weekend. I was out of fuel and had lost the ability to fight with him. I wiped my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll go make dinner," I said and turned to walk back.

  As I made dinner, the tears never stopped. I was waiting on a miracle that would never come. Michael coming back inside to tell me he was sorry. Tell me he loved our unborn baby and me. Tell me…thank you for the weekend. But all he did was convince me that I had ruined his weekend.

  I heard the boat take off and I hoped he was just leaving to clear his head and would be back soon. The dinner I had prepared was ready, and he still wasn't back. The sun was about to set, and I wanted us to watch it go down over the water together.

  I blew out the candles on the table and walked outside and down to the pier and sat with my feet dangling in the water. Monica was kicking inside me, and since she was the only one here, I talked to her.

  "I'm trying, little baby. I really am fighting for us. I hope you don't hate me when you're born for putting us in this situation. But I promise I will love you enough for both of us. Your daddy may not be fond of me, but I bet when he sees your little face, he won't be able to resist. I already love you. So, don't you worry about that."

  I heard a boat coming in the distance, and it was heading in my direction. It was Michael. I held my breath and prayed that, by the time he got back, we would make up and we could salvage this weekend.

  The boat slowed and drove into the wake, and I stood as I waited for him to cut the engine and tie off the boat. I didn't know if I should run to him or stay on the pier. He looked up once at me and still appeared to be angry.

  "Michael, I'm sorry. Dinner's ready." He didn't say a word, and the jet ski drove into the wake. It was a girl in a bikini wearing a life jacket. She pulled up to the boat.

  "You ready?" she said to Michael.

  "Yes," he said and jumped on the back with her.

  "The houseboats just a few miles out. You'll need a life vest."

  Michael climbed back into the boat and took one from the cabin, and then climbed back on with the girl.

  "Michael, where the hell are you going?" He said nothing and looked at me in disgust. She pulled the jet ski around, causing rippling waves as the exhaust from the jet ski sprayed in my face. When I opened my eyes, I watched the two of them disappear under the sunset—the sunset I wanted to watch together—to a houseboat somewhere in the distance. I sat back down on the pier…and cried.

  The sun had long set, and the water stilled like glass. Somewhere out there was my husband on a houseboat with another woman. This had to be the last straw because I wasn't going to make it. I had a baby coming any day, and I knew no matter what I did, Michael was never going to change. I was going to file for divorce. And what made it worse—it's what Michael would want. The only thing that would make him truly happy.

  I continued my crying inside, curled up on the window seat while watching the moon reflect across the lake. I considered going home. When and if Michael came back, he would need to find his own way home. Of which would constitute me being, once again, a bitch. I couldn't justify why my broken heart and shed tears made me a bitch. But that's what my actions had warranted. I was nothing but a bitch according to Michael.

  I thought I had shed the last tear when I got up, packed the car and left in the middle of the night. However, five miles down the road, I pulled over when I could no longer see. The dam broke and lay, crying hysterically over the steering wheel.

  I had failed. And now, my only choice was to move back home with my parents and have my baby. I had convinced them that Michael and I were happy, and things had all worked out. Now, they too would see the charade.

  I wiped my eyes and drove back to the house I grew up in. The house would now raise my daughter.

  The door was unlocked when I quietly walked in and padded upstairs. Time had only shortly passed, but it felt like years when I step inside my childhood room. With its posters and school memorabilia, it still looked like a teenage girl lived here. How I wished to be a teenager once again and do everything right this time. I would never let myself fall in love with Michael.

  A week had passed, and I still hadn't filed for divorce. I told my parents we…just needed a break. Mom seemed to understand. Dad, as usual, rolled his eyes and said something like, ‘If you want to dance, you must pay the fiddler.'

  Tammy and I visited the mall a few times, but it was different. Instead of shopping for shoes or purses, we were picking out a breast pump. I was now three days overdue and hadn't heard a thing from Michael. I wasn't sure if it was because he didn't care, or afraid to face my parents. It was both. Though I told myself I wanted to divorce Michael, each day I feared divorce papers would be served to me. Mom would keep her silence as to what I was going to do. But Dad would throw his opinion whenever he could.

  "What are you waiting on? Either get divorced or don't. Decide. You wanted to be an adult. You can't go back to being a kid. It doesn't work that way."

  "Dad, I'm not thinking that…"

  "That's the problem. You don't think."

  "Dad…I've been trying, fighting to make it work with Michael," I said, my voice strangled on the edge of crying.

  "That's another thing a man doesn't want when he comes home. Fighting."

  "I don't mean fighting, fighting. I mean…" It was useless. My dad would always be old-school to this and would never understand how lucky he had it. "What makes it so hard for him? He carries on as he always did. Yet, I'm the one making his life hard? He's not exactly making my life a picnic. If anything, I've made life easier for him. He no longer has to feed himself, clean his home, shop for groceries, or write the checks for the bills. Deal with cable guy when he can't get a ballgame he wants. Buy new underwear when his have holes. His suits are picked up at the cleaners by me, and he no longer pays the cleaners to iron his shirts. BECAUSE I do that. I do everything. I gave the man more time to fly all over the country and party with his friends he calls business associates."

  "That's your job," Dad said, and it only made me more furious. He hated Michael, yet he had defended him over his own daughter? "How do you expect him to get promoted and climb the ladder?"

  "You just don't get it, do you!" He laughed, and it only made me appear childish in his eyes. Life was real now, and I wasn't ready to handle it. "Well, he was doing just fine before I came along. It would just be nice to be loved and appreciated. I…" A sharp pain tore through me, and I buckled over. "Aww!"

  Mom rushed to my side. "Jill, are you okay? Arthur, don't be upsetting her," she said.

  "Aww. It hurts Mom. I think I'm in labor."

  "Oh, dear. Arthur, get the car ready. Is this your first pain, honey?"

  "Yes. Mom…I'm scared. How bad will it be?"

  She helped me to a chair as Dad went to get the car. "Honey, this will be the least painful of becoming a parent. Trust me." Another pain shot throu
gh me and I couldn't imagine anything worse. Had all the things Scott and I done growing up become more painful than this?

  "Come on, let's go," Dad said, popping his head in the front door. "She okay?"

  "Yes, Arthur. She'll be fine."

  "Mom…I'm scared. Don't leave me."

  "Baby, I'll be there. Come on, let's go have this baby," she said and helped me to the car.

  It was real. The real life of Michael and me and being married and having a baby felt nothing like the fantasies I had only nine months ago. It hurt. My heart was broke. We weren't together, and I no longer felt special in anyone's eyes. I was just another knocked-up teen about to have a baby—alone.

  "Tammy," I cried out through another pain. "She has to be there. She's…aww…she's my coach."

  "All right. I'm sure we have time to stop and pick her up."

  "Oh, hell we do," Dad spat at Mom. "She's not having that baby in this car."

  "Arthur, it's her first. It will be some time."

  "What? No. I want it over with now!" I yelled.

  "There you go, scarring the poor girl," Dad said.

  "You two, stop!" I couldn't take their bickering. I just wanted the pain to go away. I wanted Tammy with me, and I wanted…Michael. I wanted him to be there when our daughter was born. But, I didn't mention his name. Afraid Mom and Dad would start another fight, and all I wanted was some peace—somewhere.

  Dad had us to the hospital in record time and Tammy and I were gowned up and in the delivery room. Mom couldn't believe I was already ten centimeters dilated. The pains never came and went like they told us in Lamaze class. My labor pains came and never let up. It was one big hurt, and I swore she would be an only child.

  "Okay, Jill. It's time to push," the nurse told me, and Tammy held my back as I bared down. "Aww!"

  "Breathe now, Jill. Breathe," Tammy said.

  "Screw that breathing shit. Just get this baby out. NOW!"

  "Push. Push, push, push, push, push, push," the doctor said as his fingers pulled down on my opening. "Here she is." Not a second later, my baby girl's cries came wailing out, and I never heard a more beautiful sound. They handed her to me, and she was pink and perfect…and mine. Everything I went through with Michael came down to this moment. She was meant to be here. She was meant to be mine. And…she was meant to be Michael's.