The Mailbox

by Marybeth Whalen

  Maybe I am just jealous. Jealous that I don’t have what those couples have. Did I ever? Did Grant and I ever look at each other that way, laugh hysterically together, share the deepest parts of our hearts? I am sure we did once upon a time, but it has been so long ago and we have moved so far past that time that I can’t remember anymore.

  I have come to believe that you, Kindred Spirit, get the best part of me. And I am left wondering who you are … and not wanting to know at the same time. I assume that you are probably one of those old women I see tottering along with their Sea Turtle patrol T-shirts on, visors tucked smartly over their eyes as they scan the beach for nests or tracks or whatever it is that they look for. It would be great if that were true—I could so use a mentor.

  My fear is that you don’t really care like I think you do. That my words are lost in an abandoned mailbox that holds neither the mystique nor the allure I have attached to it since I first came here as a lovestruck teenager. Have you followed these letters through the years, looking forward to reading the next installment as much as I look forward to writing it? I really hope that you do. That I really do have a Kindred Spirit somewhere on this earth, someone who knows the truth and loves me anyway.

  I know that I have One in heaven. But earth would be nice too. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

  This year has been rough for our marriage. Grant is cheating on me—again. I knew before I had evidence. It was not what I saw, but what I didn’t see. The absence of lingering looks, kind words, tenderness. The silence between us. We used to talk, didn’t we? We used to laugh. We used to have conversations about more than payments and plumbers and pediatricians. We used to be more than just me and just him. We used to be us.

  Instead we have been slowly drifting apart, almost as imperceptibly as the steady erosion of this very beach. One little particle at a time—a cross word said out of frustration, a night of sleep instead of sex, a forgotten little something that we used to do, and now don’t even remember. Other than the hassle of divorce and what it would do to the children, I can’t say I really care enough to fight. And that’s the awful truth. The awful, awful truth that I have told no one except you. What wife doesn’t want to fight for her husband? What Christian woman doesn’t want to make her marriage work?

  Maybe one that is too tired to care. One that is tired of fighting for the things in life that should come easy—someone to love you, a mother who cares about you. These things should be a given, but they aren’t to me.

  That is what I thought as I stood outside the closed door of our laundry room and overheard Grant talking to another woman, making arrangements for a hotel room. He used his sexy voice—one I vaguely remember as being laced with innuendo and confident in tone. He thought I had gotten in the shower but didn’t count on me first coming downstairs to get a clean towel out of the dryer. I listened outside the door and was there when he opened it. His expression betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor. “Hi,” he said, plastering a shyster grin on his face. He pointed to the phone. “Business call. I’m meeting a customer and needed to make arrangements.”

  I looked at him, in shock that he would actually try to cover it with a lie. “Oh? And is this customer a woman?”

  He waved his hand in the air and laughed, dismissing me. “A woman? No! Why in the world would you ask that?”

  “So you’re secretly gay now?” I shot back, my blood pressure rising along with my decibel level, my attempt to stay calm evaporating like water on hot asphalt.

  He brushed past me, collecting his briefcase. “Gay?” he asked with his back to me. “No.” He turned back to me, smiled his shyster smile a second time, ruffling my hair like a silly child and air kissing my forehead as he headed for the door, suddenly in a hurry to leave. “What a weird thing to say. I don’t know what you think you just heard, but your imagination must be running away with you.” My mouth opened and shut like a fish as I fumbled for a comeback. But he never made eye contact as he walked out the door, hollering about how he’d be home in time for dinner. Like that was some sort of gift to me.

  As the door slammed shut, I hollered back, “I’m not making dinner.” An act of rebellion. He ate cold cereal that night while I ignored him and worried over what our future would look like.

  Which brings me to now. Grant moved out just before we left to come down to the beach. He agreed to come here together so that the kids could have one last family vacation. I had high hopes that a miracle would occur while we were here, but it hasn’t happened. At night I lie in bed and try not to obsess about who the other woman is and what she looks like and if she’s young and incredibly thin and beautiful. And I don’t cry. This much I promised myself. I pretend my heart is made of steel, hard and tough and impenetrable. I pretend that none of this hurts and that I can just move forward without being crippled by the realization that the family I worked so hard to build is crumbling at my feet, like a house that has burned down with only the chimney left standing.

  I know that we will not be back here together next year. I know that the marriage I thought I had is a sham. I know that I am going home to his half of the closet empty. I wonder if there’s any hope. I wonder if during our separation, he will realize what he had and come back. I wonder if deep down he feels any love for me at all. Most of all I wonder, what did I do wrong? And will I ever do something right?

  Until next summer,

  Lindsey

  Chapter 28

  Sunset Beach

  Summer 2004

  After Nikki’s counseling session, Campbell asked her if she wanted to grab lunch. To his shock and delight, she said yes. Neither of them mentioned the session as they drove to the restaurant. She commented on the heat. He nodded in agreement. He commented on his hunger. She nodded in agreement, though he couldn’t help but wonder if she was just being polite. In the session, Lisa talked about how he could support Nikki through this. He felt funny talking about her as if she wasn’t even there. But she just sat stoically. His heart went out to her.

  “Have you talked to your mom?” he asked her as they made their way into the little coffee shop that served Campbell’s favorite sandwiches. He didn’t want to talk about Ellie but felt obliged to feign interest.

  “A few times,” she said. “She’s worried. Wants to know if I’m happy here.”

  Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Are you?”

  She sat down across from him at the table. “Dad, don’t worry. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t.” She looked around. “I can’t think of a better place to …” She paused, unsure of what to call it. “… get better.” She gave a small smile. “I might just stay indefinitely,” she said, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger, a nervous habit he recognized from her childhood. “How would you feel about that?” She gestured toward the counter where a girl her age stood, taking orders from a steady stream of customers. “I wonder if they’re hiring?”

  “Well, if you need a job, you know I could always work something out for you down at the company.”

  She smiled. “I hoped you’d say that.” She took a deep breath. “Because I’d like to stay here. I’m not going to college this fall. Lisa has helped me decide that.”

  He started to panic inwardly. College was always Ellie’s dream for Nikki. Since Ellie didn’t get to go, she decided early on that she would make sure Nikki did. “Have you told your mom?” he asked, trying to keep a poker face. He didn’t want to let on that this felt like the worst news possible.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I hoped you’d tell her for me. That you would explain how the counselor and I reached that decision.”

  He imagined that conversation with vivid clarity. Accusations about the counselor being a hack. Accusations about how he projected his beach-bum mentality on their daughter. Accusations about how badly he had bungled the one and only thing he’d bee
n asked to do. He smiled at Nikki. “That sounds like fun,” he managed. She grinned back broadly.

  He would not let her down. He sighed dramatically and, even though it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, told her, “Okay, I’ll call Ellie and break the news.”

  “Thanks, Dad!” She seemed genuinely happy. Or perhaps just relieved. “I just can’t deal with Mom right now. I don’t want to hear her lecture.”

  “Oh, so you’re going to make me have to hear her lecture?” he teased.

  “Well, you’re not required to listen the same way I am. You know?”

  “Yeah, I have an idea …” he said. He imagined what her life had been like being Ellie’s child.

  “And, Dad?” she continued. “Thanks a lot for coming with me today. I liked having you there.”

  He watched with satisfaction as she took a healthy bite out of her sandwich. “You’re very welcome. I liked being there. I want to be there for you more than I have been in the past. I owe you an apology for not visiting you in Charlotte like I should have. For always expecting you to come to me. I should have been there for your school events. I should have put your needs ahead of my own, and I didn’t. I haven’t been the father I should have been.” He swallowed. “But I am glad God’s giving us a second chance.”

  She nodded and looked down at the table, staring at the food on her plate like it was something new and strange. “Someday I’ll be ready …” she began, “to tell you the whole story about how this all … happened.”

  He reached across the table and brushed the top of her arm. “You take your time,” he said and smiled at her. “We have plenty of it now that you’re not going anywhere.”

  w

  On the way home, he asked Nikki if they could make one more stop. “I’d like to buy you something,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Who else?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay,” she said. “I never turn down a gift!”

  He parked the truck in front of Wings and got out. She followed him inside. “I don’t need a bathing suit, Dad,” she said as they entered the beach shop. He hadn’t been inside the place in years, but it hadn’t changed much.

  “Just follow me,” he said as he wound his way through the aisles to find the display of flip-flops. He spotted a pair in red and looked for women’s size 7s. “These look like they’ll fit,” he said, handing them over to her.

  She took them from his hand. “Dad—” she began in protest.

  He held up his hand. “No. No arguing. You don’t even have to wear them. I mean, they’re just cheap beach flip-flops. But I’ve been thinking about our old tradition, and I just wanted to buy you a pair of red shoes like I used to. I haven’t done that in a long time.” He paused, looking around to see if anyone was watching. “Will you let me do that?”

  She studied him, taking him in with her wide blue eyes that were the same shade and shape as his own. She nodded just like she had when she was three years old. “Sure,” she said.

  “It’s a good plan,” he said, remembering.

  “What?” she asked, following him to the cash registers.

  He laughed. “Nothing,” he said. He forced himself not to say any more, to let Nikki decide when or if she would wear the red flip-flops. For now it was enough that he had bought them, resurrecting something that had been dormant for far too long.

  w

  When he and Nikki returned home, they found LaRae slumped on the couch holding a glass of ice water to her forehead. She eyed them as they came in. “It’s too hot out there for human beings,” she said.

  “You look terrible,” he told her. Her face was red and splotchy, and her hair stuck up in sweaty clumps all over her head.

  “Well, that’s what happens when you spend time gardening in the heat of the day,” she retorted, the fire not entirely gone in her. She grinned at Nikki. “Honey, gardening makes you ugly. Don’t ever start.” She looked back at Campbell. “I take it you ate lunch already, ’cause it’s way past time.”

  He nodded absentmindedly, already itching to find a place to be alone and call Lindsey. “She came by,” his mother said, reading his mind.

  “Lindsey?” he asked, as if other women were in the habit of stopping by his house.

  She gave him a sarcastic look. “Of course,” she replied. “No offense, Campbell, but you don’t exactly have a ton of women flocking to your door.”

  “Touché,” he admitted. “So what’d she say?”

  “We chatted for a bit. I offered her something to drink. She was out jogging in this heat if you can imagine.”

  He pointed at his mom and smiled. “Did she look like you?”

  She waved her hand in the air. “You be quiet. She looked very nice, just like you’d expect. We had a nice talk …” She paused, suddenly hesitant, nervous.

  “Mom … what did you do?”

  “Campbell, you assume the worst about me.” She pointed Nikki in the direction of her bedroom. Nikki got the hint.

  “I need to, uh, check my email,” Nikki said.

  Campbell watched his daughter scale the stairs then repeated, “Mom …”

  “Well, it was the strangest thing. I explained a bit about what’s going on with Nikki and we just chatted a little about the past. She was just as sweet as ever, real charming. Then she said she wanted to leave you a note. So I told her she might as well head upstairs and leave it in your room. I went back out to the yard, and the next thing I knew she flew out of the house and ran down the street, her feet barely hitting the ground. She didn’t even say good-bye!”

  Campbell’s heart hammered away in his chest. He paced around the room, running his hands through his hair, saying the same words over and over again, a refrain. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.” He took one look at his mom before bolting out the door, chasing Lindsey even though she was long gone.

  Chapter 29

  Sunset Beach

  Summer 2004

  Lindsey was about a hundred feet from the beach house when she noticed the familiar silver sedan sitting in the drive. Her heart, already pounding, began to somehow pound harder, a new round of adrenaline flooding her veins, making her stomach rumble with nausea.

  She stopped and put her hands on her knees, stared at the pebbles and shells littering the ground, willing her eyes to focus, her breathing to slow down, her head to stop spinning. She looked up to a flash of movement on the porch. A vision she had seen so many times before: her husband and children sitting together. He sipped a Diet Coke and smiled like he belonged there. It could have been a scene from any previous year. Just not this one.

  The children were waving wildly at her, smiling like their dreams had come true. Which, she supposed, they had. Oddly enough, had Grant shown up just two days earlier, his appearance would have meant her dreams had come true too. Instead the sight of him on her porch, with her children, made her angry. How dare he ruin the brief bit of happiness she had allowed herself to grab? And yet, with the turn of events that had happened at Campbell’s place, she wasn’t sure she was happy anymore. She didn’t know what to think or feel. And thanks to Grant showing up, she had no time to process, to pray. She pasted a polite smile on her face for the sake of the kids and walked toward the house.

  As she climbed the porch stairs, questions ran through her brain. Why was he there? What was his intent? And then there was the nagging thought of Campbell. How could she possibly get to the bottom of what he did with Grant around? She had a hard time meeting Grant’s gaze, couldn’t look at him sitting on the porch like he belonged there, like he had the right. She focused instead on Anna’s and Jake’s faces. Anna sidled up to her. “Mom,” she said, almost shyly, “Dad’s here.”

  “Yeah, he came to visit us. Isn’t that cool, Mom?” Jake
echoed his sister.

  Anna examined her mother’s face closely, nervously awaiting her reaction.

  Lindsey made her head nod in response, grasping for the right words to say. “Wow” was all she could eke out.

  Grant stared at her; she could feel his eyes boring into her even though she wouldn’t look at him. She mumbled something about showering and bolted inside the house, away from the three of them and their happy little reunion. She closed the door to the master bedroom, stepped into the master bath, and closed that door as well, locking it. A double barrier. Stripping out of her sweaty running clothes, she ripped the ponytail from her hair and turned the shower water on to cold. She could feel the heat radiating from her body as she stepped under the cool water, letting it wash over her and mingle with her tears. She leaned her head against the tile as the water pounded her skin, a cold shock after the intense heat. From outside, she heard knocking on the bathroom door, but she didn’t respond. She mouthed words that she did not say: Go away. Go away. Go away.

  When her teeth started to chatter, she switched the water over to warm and sat down in the tub, letting the water calm her. She lathered her hair and then sat with the suds on her head, allowing the water to pound down on her tired, aching legs. She couldn’t remember the last time she ran that much in one day. She fought the desire to climb into bed and shut the whole mess out of her life through sleep, the great escape.

  When the hot water was gone, she reluctantly climbed out, toweled herself off, and wrapped the towel around her. She brushed her hair and stared at herself in the mirror. She wondered what Grant saw when he looked at her. She wondered what Campbell saw.

  She wished Holly were there. She tried to picture her friend laughing over her predicament: “Two men, Linds, wow! Two men are fighting over you!” Closing her eyes, Lindsey could hear Holly saying it, see her dimpled smile. She wanted her friend there, helping her figure out what to do next. But calling her at that moment was out of the question. Most likely she would call Holly later and beg her to help her figure all this out while Holly made jokes about her being a vixen, a minx.