The Perfect Life

by Anderson, Callie

  "Can I ask you something?" he said while rubbing his nose along the crook of my neck.

  We had had been lying on his bed for the last hour, unable to pull away from one another. The post coitus coma had my body numb and exhausted, draped over his. I was so lost in his scent and the memories of every which way he had me, that I moaned. "Mmm."

  "Marriage," he said, making my body instantly tense. "Would you ever do it again?"

  I cleared my throat to buy me more time. "I'm not sure." I rolled over to face him. This conversation could go either of two ways. He was either for or against marriage. "Why?" Instantly, my heart began to speed up in my chest. I didn’t want marriage. It was by far the last thing on my mind. "Is that a deal breaker for you?"

  "No." He framed my worried face with his large hands and softly kissed the tip of my nose. "My mother and sister were having this argument the other day and it got me thinking.” He rested his head on his hand, and I watched him tentatively. The runner in me wanted to grab my things and bolt out the door. “I'm not getting any younger, and for so long I was focused on my career that marriage was just on the back burner."

  I nodded afraid to utter a sound. "Then you and AJ happened to me, and I find myself wanting it full time. Wanting the whole package… with you."

  Blinking several times, I let his words sink in. Any other woman would’ve jumped at the chance to become Mrs. Dixon. Luke was a great man who loved my child as his own, a man that wanted the whole package. But the mere thought of it made me cringe. Like a broken levee, I couldn’t stop the flood of memories from overtaking my mind. Me, crying on the bathroom floor every day; the copious amounts of wine I would drink just to get by. I couldn’t do marriage again. I wouldn’t.

  I pushed away from his grasp and covered my body with the sheet. "I don't think I ever want to get married again," I said with every ounce of truth that ran through my veins.

  "Because?" Luke raised his eyebrow.

  "Well for starters, the last time I did it, I ended up as a widow.” Luke and I never spoke of my past. He knew that Bruce had died, and I was at fault. That was the extent of what he knew about him.

  “I understand that, but you know that’s unlikely to happen again. You can’t stop living because Bruce died,” he said softly.

  "It's not that." I said and stood. Wrapping my entire body in the bed sheet, I looked around for my clothes and purse. I needed to leave.

  "Then what is it? I respect who he was to you, but I feel like I'm always being compared to a ghost." Luke’s voice ran through my body like a cold chill. Was I comparing him to Bruce?

  "That's not fair." I yanked a shirt from his dresser drawer and pulled it over my head. “I’ve never compared you to him. Ever. I don’t even talk about him.”

  "No, it's not fair to me." He stood and pulled his boxers off the floor. "I know you don't want to talk about it. You never want to talk about your late husband, and I've respected that, but you can't assume that because your first marriage ended badly, a future marriage would end the same."

  "I'm not good at being married," I admitted. My eyes filled with tears and I looked away. The memories of how miserable I was for months after AJ was born enveloped me. It was all because I’d lost who I was in my marriage. Toward the end, prior to Bruce’s death, I walked around with the blame of it all on my shoulders daily. What if that did happen again? What if I’d invested all this time with Luke and we ended up miserable as well? How would I explain that to AJ?

  "I'm not asking you to marry me." He walked over to me and his hands rested on my shoulders. "We’re having a conversation about it. That's all."

  I pushed his hands away, knowing that if I let him hold me, I would lose the battle I was having with the tears in my eyes. "I don't think I can do it again,” I said in a whisper. “The last time it took everything I was, and I had to start over from scratch." I ran a frantic hand through my hair. “I lost the best version of myself in my marriage, and then I lost him before we could ever figure it out.”

  "I'll never understand what you went through unless you open up to me." He kissed the top of my head and walked toward the bathroom.

  Feeling the weight of guilt on my shoulders, I sat on the edge of the bed. I knew my walls were built high. I spent four years making sure they were bullet proof. I knew I never planned on letting anyone back in. But Luke was right; he couldn't understand what I went through if I didn't open up. Yanking his T-shirt off my body, I dropped it on the bed and stood. If I was ever going to move on with my life, if I was ever going to give Luke and I a real chance at love, I had to leave my past in the past. I had to let go of Bruce.

  The soap was lathered on his torso when I climbed into the shower stall behind him. I wrapped my arms around his body, so my chest was against his back, and I held him in place. Inhaling all the air I could hold in my lungs, I closed my eyes and let go.

  "After I had AJ, I suffered from postpartum depression.” I sighed, admitting the words out loud for the first time to anyone besides my therapists. “From what I and my therapists have learned, it started out as something so small none of the doctors picked up on it when AJ was first born. It was a simple case of the baby blues that blossomed into me hating everything around me. I had the perfect life. Loving husband, beautiful healthy child, and a gorgeous house. I had everything that, essentially, should make me very happy, and yet I wasn't." Luke tried to turn to face me, but I held him in place.

  "Please,” I said with a shaky voice. “I can't do this if you're facing me."

  "Ok," he said and let the water cascade between us.

  “Over the first few months, when AJ was an infant, I grew jealous of the relationship that my husband had with AJ and hated that I was never his priority. He had shifted from being a husband to a dad, but he never learned how to shift between the two. I was depressed without knowing I was depressed, and it only got worse. Days turned into months and through it all, I was a silent victim. Crying myself to sleep every night, hoping for a better tomorrow. I believe in Bruce’s eyes, all he was trying to do was help with the baby. If AJ cried, he would rush to pick him up. If it were time to feed him, he would rush to do it. By helping, he was showing me how much he loved me, but in my eyes, I didn’t see any of it. I saw that he was obsessed with AJ and didn’t love me anymore. For two years I was truly miserable, and I blamed him for everything. Part of my soul was chipped away, and I never recovered.” As I said the words out loud, I couldn’t help but cry. Time doesn’t heal old wounds. It simply makes you unable to feel the true pain until you’re ready for it. “I only learned later, in therapy, that my husband was always the same person. We just matured differently.” I rested my head on his shoulder and let the tears stream down my face. “In marriage, people evolve, and we can only hope to grow together. I couldn't force him to change and be affectionate with me; I either had to adapt to how he had grown or continue the cycle. In an odd twist of irony, I had called a therapist the day he died. I wanted to work at us, but we never had a chance to.”

  Slowly, Luke pulled my vice grip away from his body and turned to face me. "Thank you for sharing that with me," he said and brought me into his chest. He held me in his arms for a few seconds before he pulled away. “I know you're scared because of what happened to you in the past, but I want you to understand. I know that marriage isn’t always perfect. I believe marriage is about loving someone selflessly. If a person enters into a marriage because they believe they are going to be happy all the time, they’re headed for disappointment. Marriage is about giving more to another person than you're willing too. Understanding that it takes work.

  His arms coiled around me, and my heart was hammering in my chest. For many years my heart felt frozen, and I was convinced I wasn’t worthy of another man’s love. And there, in Luke’s shower, surrounded by steam, all of my hesitations, fear and the massive wall I had built around me, crumbled to the ground. Without any uncertainty, I fell completely in love with Luke. Slowly, I wrapped my
arms around him and held him tight, knowing that love, though painful at times, was the most fragile and precious thing of all.

  Closing my eyes, I said a silent prayer. Please God, don’t you ever take him away from me.

  10

  Present

  In every city AJ and I lived, I always had a therapist. There was Colleen in West Virginia, Emily in the Adirondacks, Nicole in Vermont, and Kathleen in Maine. I called them by their first names because they were the only adults I held full conversations with in those few years, aside from ordering food or chatting with a butcher. I cleansed my soul with those four women. They knew every fear I had and every part of my heart that ached. They were my sounding boards, my friends, my family.

  When I first arrived in West Virginia, I was lost. I had driven far away from home, and Elkins seemed like the perfect little town to stop and gather my thoughts. I didn’t know where my life was headed, or in which direction I should turn next. The only thing I knew was that AJ and I had left our home behind and I had no intention of returning anytime soon.

  I’d packed my bags and left without a trace, like a thief in the middle of the night. It was unfair to everyone, AJ included, but I had to be the best parent I could for him. I knew without a doubt that staying in the house Bruce and I built was not what was best for me.

  For the first three days in Elkins, AJ and I stayed at a bed and breakfast on the east side of town. After I checked us in, we didn’t leave our room unless it was to eat. I didn’t socialize; I didn’t speak to a single soul. It wasn’t until the fourth day, when AJ had it with the four flower-papered walls, that I wandered off and took a stroll through the center of town. I was lost, walking aimlessly past the little shops and boutiques with no clear direction where I wanted to go.

  It was excruciatingly hot from a heat wave passing through. AJ slept peacefully in his stroller as I strolled through the quaint town, accidentally stumbling upon Colleen’s practice. There was no sign on the door, but the beautiful refinished furniture I saw through the window caught my eye. Each piece was more colorful than the last, and next to each chair were bins of books to read at your leisure. I peeked inside thinking it was a shabby chic store, maybe one that served coffee and tea. The last thing I expected was a therapist. But there, between the Annie Sloan Paint and a Free Little Library, was the first woman who changed my life. For thirty minutes, Colleen let me wander around the store, admiring the furniture she painted, and all the while we chatted casually about each piece. Somewhere between talking about four shades of white chalk paint and the best way to distress a glider, we started talking about me.

  What was I doing there? What was I searching for in her store? Why did I come in?

  Before I knew it, I was telling her about Bruce’s tragic death and how I was running from my problems. She told me that painting was a mindless task that helped her with stress. Her method of treatment was to combine painting with a therapy session. That day, I booked my first appointment, and for a year I saw her every Tuesday at two o’clock. AJ napped in his stroller while we painted old pieces of furniture and I talked about my life.

  After eleven months, I felt it was time for a change and I moved on. Like I had done in Savannah, I packed the car in the middle of the night and vanished. I sent Colleen a text message with an apology and thanked her profusely for her help.

  Michelle, the second woman to change my life, had her own quirks that attracted me to her. She squinted when I spoke, and just before she offered me her opinion, she looked at the ceiling as though the answers were up there. Toward the end of our year, I found myself looking up at the ceiling as I spoke.

  Nicole reminded me of Colleen. Instead of painting furniture, she suggested I try different recipes when I was depressed. By the end of our year, I had mastered The Art of French Cooking.

  It wasn’t until I reached my last stop, when I met Kathleen, that I got to the root of our problem. Kathleen’s office was between a record store and an art gallery. The ceilings in the reception area were high, with mason jars hung around the lights strung along the ceiling. She had an oversized sectional, and every week there were fresh flowers in a large vase. What I liked most about Kathleen was that she already knew all of my issues. She had requested my files from every therapist prior to her.

  As I sat across from her at our first session, she knew my deepest, darkest secrets before I even opened my mouth.

  “You’re a runner, both athletically and when confronted with your own issues,” she stated calmly. My eyebrows pinched together, shocked and appalled by her bluntness. “And from what I can tell, you’ve developed a pattern. You stay for almost a year, making a life for you and AJ, and right before the year mark, something propels you to move on to the next city.

  I knew exactly what she was referring to. I sat back in the chair and filled my lungs with air. “I move on the anniversary of Bruce’s death.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “Because it’s easier than facing the truth.” We were two minutes into my first session and my eyes were already filled with tears. “It’s easier to run away than admit it will never truly feel like home.”

  * * *

  My eyes stared blankly at the digital clock.

  Today was Bruce’s birthday, and I knew it was only eight more weeks until the anniversary of his death. Everything inside of me was telling me to run again. That it would be easier to pack my bags and go than to stay in the home that housed all of our memories together. I took a calming breath and slowed my rapid heart rate, a method I’d learned from Michelle.

  I’d promised myself no more running. I promised AJ that this would be his home. I promised Kathleen that once I returned, I would never leave again, no matter how much it pained me. I needed to set roots somewhere, and for AJ, I wanted them to be close to Bruce’s family. I rolled over in bed as the sun crept in through the curtains.

  Bruce would have been thirty-eight today.

  “Mom, are you up?” AJ knocked on my door before pushing it open.

  Brushing away my tears, I kicked off the blankets. “Yes, sweetie, I’m up.” I forced a smile on my face as the door opened. His little legs sprinted.

  “We’re going to be late!” He jumped onto the mattress. “We promised Luke we would meet him at the docks by ten.”

  Earlier in the week, when Luke suggested teaching AJ to sail, it hadn’t dawned on me that it was Bruce’s birthday. I’d been so preoccupied with our summer and spending time with Luke that I’d forgotten.

  I stood and laced my hands around AJ’s waist and placed him on the ground. “AJ, sweetie,” I said, pulling the sheets up to make the bed. “It’s only seven. We still have three hours to get to the dock.”

  “Yeah.” He bounced from foot to foot. “But we need to eat breakfast and you need to get ready.”

  I ran my hand through his messy hair. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and watch some TV?”

  He pouted.

  “Why don’t you try to be the kid and I’ll be the mom? I promise we’ll be there on time.”

  This was not how I envisioned this day. I wanted to spend the whole day in bed, eating ice cream and feeling sorry for my widowed self. But instead, I was spending it with my boyfriend. The guilt sank deep.

  When I pulled my phone off the charger, I noticed I had a missed call. It was the same call I got every year on this day, but today—especially today—I didn’t need to add her guilt on top of mine.

  “Not today, Satan,” I whispered.

  * * *

  The sun was shining in the clear blue skies, and my head was pounding as we walked up onto the dock. I had voted against this little adventure because I didn’t like the ocean, but AJ had begged for it. The second Luke mentioned he knew how to sail, AJ had asked him what felt like a million questions. When Luke offered to teach him, AJ wouldn’t stop asking to go until I said yes.

  “Luke!” AJ shouted when he spotted him.

  Luke turned around and greete
d us with a wide smile. He wore cargo shorts and a Nirvana T-shirt—not his typical doctor attire that I’d grown to love, but the Nirvana T-shirt made me smile. Maybe there was a side of him I didn’t know yet.

  “You made it,” he said when we approached.

  “Barely,” I said sardonically. My legs were shaky as I looked out over the deep body of water.

  “Come on, it will be fun.” He extended his hand and helped AJ climb on board before giving me a hand.

  “I don’t like the ocean,” I reminded him.

  “Good thing we’re sailing down the Wilmington River.”

  “Same difference.” I swatted his chest. “Large bodies of water.”

  “I promise you won’t get wet, and by the end of the day, you’ll love it.”

  “We’ll see about that.” I pouted, but it was only to tease him. I couldn’t be mad at the man who had taken time out of his day to do something special for AJ.

  Luke put away my cooler filled with snacks and instructed me to sit in the front of the boat. AJ was his first mate, and the two of them lowered the sail and steered us away from the dock. Luke and AJ discussed certain parts of the boat and what each command meant as I sat back and soaked in the sun. The breeze was cool, and the scenery was breathtaking. The sun grew higher in the sky, and I found myself truly relaxed.

  I was lost in thought until Luke came and sat beside me. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself after all.” He placed his hand in mine.

  “It’s not that bad, Doc,” I said, unable to hide the truth. “Where’s AJ?” I glanced to the back of the boat.

  “Fishing. He just cast his line. Don’t worry; he’s wearing a life vest,” Luke assured me. I shifted so I could watch AJ. His feet dangled off the side of the boat as he waited for a fish to bite.

  “Are you okay?” Luke asked, brushing my hair away from my face. It wasn’t like him to touch me in front of AJ. He respected the boundaries I’d set.