Seventy-Two Hours

by Stringham, C. P.

  “I think that’s the best dining experience I’ve had in years,” I declared as I buckled my seatbelt.

  “Agreed. I wonder if Jim and Nancy have ever eaten there.” He said as he backed out of the parking spot.

  “Maybe next time we’re up we can bring them…” and then I trailed off. There wouldn’t be a next time. I attempted to play it off. “Wow, listen to me. Dinner went so well, I almost forgot.”

  “I think that was the longest conversation we’ve had between us in quite some time,” he remarked. “Frankly, I can’t recall the last time.”

  I reflected back a moment since I’d already been thinking the same thing. “It was while we were selecting new siding for the house.”

  “No. That can’t be right.”

  I sighed and said, “Yes, it is. Last September.” And it was shockingly pathetic that I remembered it so vividly. But it was, indeed, the only time I could remember just the two of us involved in a discussion when his work didn’t interrupt us or the kids weren’t present or I was still carrying a grudge against him because he’d stood me up for something else. It was a relaxed discussion. Not a heated debate. No compromise. Together we researched the different siding varieties on the internet, went to Lowe’s, and made a selection. We even agreed on the same contractor to install it.

  “How do you remember these things? Do you write them down or something? Store them away somewhere for future use?”

  His question made me pause a moment before answering. “I don’t know. I just do. I’ve had lots of time to reflect I guess.”

  He signaled to pass a slower moving car. “Were you unhappy then?”

  “It was building.”

  “What was the last straw for you? What pushed you?”

  So much for our calm evening. Candid talk was going to lead to more hurt feelings and another heated argument.

  “I don’t know,” I answered not wanting to get to the heart of it.

  “Sure you do. Tell me.”

  I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t really one thing, Chris. It was many things over a long period of time. A conglomeration that kept building up,” I explained. “I think if you were to really look back on the past few years, you’d see you weren’t very happy either.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Sure it is. People in a happy, healthy relationship want to spend time together. You never made an effort to spend time with me.”

  “I wanted to, but I need to keep my job, Jen. One son in college. Another starting. That requires me to maintain my income. You don’t know how it’s been at work. With all the downsizing and shipping jobs and plants overseas. My meeting last year involved the bigwigs separating us into two groups. One group went into one conference room and the second into another. My group was informed of the new, slimmed down version of our company going forward and the other group was told they were being let go. Do you know what it’s like facing someone you’ve worked with for years after a meeting such as that and knowing they were in the other conference room?” he said pointedly.

  I looked at my hands and answered, “I didn’t know. You never said anything.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “It would have helped me to better understand though, Chris. I’d rather be able to offer you support than feel shut out and, well, unwanted.”

  “My love for you should have never been in question.”

  “You say that when your behavior states otherwise. You’ve always been a workaholic. I’ve known that. But the past few years turned into something else. I could never count on you to be around. Home and family life was all on me,” I told him. “It was as if spending time with me was the last thing you wanted.”

  “I’m sorry you felt that way. You shouldn’t have. I assumed you knew how I felt about you and that you were fine with taking care of everyone and everything. You’ve always been able to take control.”

  “Well, I wasn’t fine with it,” I snapped and then reined myself in. “Not towards the end.”

  “I should have seen a problem sooner. It took until this past spring for me to see how badly things had gotten between us. How distant you’d become.”

  “You mean when you realized I’d slept with another man.”

  He didn’t respond right away. Probably trying to stay civil since I’d mentioned the one thing that was sure to trigger another argument. “I actually noticed something was drastically wrong about a month before your trip.”

  His response only added to my belief about his indifference. “Way to act on it.”

  “Are you insinuating that if I’d asked you what was wrong then, you wouldn’t have slept with Stevie Boy?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Look, I’ve been unhappy. I don’t know what else to tell you. By the time my trip came around, I was at my lowest. Maybe if you’d made an attempt before that, nothing would have happened. You didn’t, so we’ll never know,” I paused and then added, “I’m to blame as well. I should have told you.”

  “But instead, you told him.”

  We fell into an uncomfortable silence the rest of the way to the cottage. He parked and we continued the silence once inside. I sank into one of the chairs in the living room and propped my feet up. I felt like I’d gone several rounds with a prize fighter. A complete one-eighty from dinner a short time ago. Emotional roller coasters sucked.

  My cell phone rang. Chris was closest. He picked it up and brought it to me, but not before reading the caller I.D. display.

  “Impeccable timing,” he muttered as he pretty much dropped it in my lap instead of placing it in my outstretched hand.

  When I looked, my heart literally stopped and my stomach lurched. Of all times for him to call.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it? Maybe he could rush up here and whisk you away. You’d have the rest of the weekend to discuss how unhappy you are.”

  The phone signaled a voicemail was left. “I…I don’t know why he’s calling.”

  He scoffed, “It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure it out. He’s looking for a booty call, Jen. It’s been a few weeks. It shouldn’t matter though because it’s just sex, right?”

  I stuck my chin out and stated, “It could be curriculum related.”

  “If that’s the case, why didn’t he email you? Any of your other colleagues would have sent an email to your school account,” he argued. “Of course, what Stevie Boy has in mind can’t be sent on the school’s email service since it’s monitored.”

  While Chris continued his snide remarks, my mind wandered to the culprit of this latest debate. What happened in Philadelphia was meant to be a one-time thing. Steve and I had discussed it. I wasn’t ready to start up a new relationship. Not while I was still married. There were steps that needed to be taken first. Telling Chris I didn’t want to be married anymore. Separating. Starting divorce proceedings. And finally, once lines weren’t being crossed, consider dating. I wasn’t even sure Steve was someone I wanted to continue seeing. He was nice and we did have a lot in common, but he wasn’t necessarily my ideal choice. Having a relationship with someone from school was bound to become common knowledge and, if things didn’t work out, that news would spread faster than wildfire all over the school district. Neither of us needed that.

  I considered listening to the voicemail just to see why he was calling, but even I knew it wasn’t the time for it. No time was really. The phone incident should have never happened and I hated myself for it. My marriage was failing. No ifs, ands, or buts. My actions certainly helped to rush it along on its path to destruction.

  “Why don’t you go and pack your bag. We’ll go home. You were right. This was a bad idea and it isn’t going to change anything,” he said in a defeated manner.

  I turned and met his eyes. “Chris, I’m sorry he called. I don’t know what else to say. He shouldn’t have.”

  “You’re damn right he shouldn’t have.”
<
br />   “I swear I haven’t had any communication with him in three weeks.”

  “You mean since the last time you fucked him?” he asked as he headed to the fridge.

  “You don’t have to be so crude about it.”

  He made quite the ruckus before coming out with a bottle of beer. He popped the top off and took a huge pull from it. “So, is that the last time?”

  “Since we’ve been in contact?” I waited for his head nod. “Yes.”

  He ran his hand over his face. “You ended it with him?”

  “I wouldn’t call what happened as starting something so I don’t think ending it would be accurate either.” I felt the need to set things straight once and for all.

  “Damn it, Jen!” he shouted before he finished the last of his beer in one giant gulp. “Regardless of what you’d call it, I see it as starting something the moment you cheated on me with him. Especially since it happened more than once. And now this guy…this son-of-a-bitch is calling you on the weekend. A holiday weekend no less. Family time. During your goddamn summer vacation from school. So, yes, I’d say you started something that’s left him with the understanding there could be more. His intentions are loud and clear.” He paused as the angry diatribe seemed to ebb and defeat settled in. “I’m going to pack. I’m ready to go.”

  As he started to walk away I called, “Wait.”

  “No,” he said as he started up the staircase. “It’s over. I’m done.”

  “But you wanted to stay for the weekend,” I said almost as a plea which was crazy in light of the fact I’d been begging to go home since we’d arrived.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

  “Chris, I know that you were hoping this weekend would bring us back together. I’m sorry it isn’t turning out the way you planned. It was a nice idea.” I wiped away a stray tear and cursed under my breath over what I was about to do. “Let’s stay. It’s only two more days and it’s really nice here. The cottage. The lake.”

  “You’re just saying that because you feel guilty.”

  “No. Really. It’s almost 7 o’clock. If you don’t want to stay until Monday, we could at least wait until morning to leave,” I reasoned.

  “Fine.” He resumed his trek upstairs.

  When it was evident he wasn’t returning anytime soon, I decided to access my voicemail. As Chris had already guessed, Steve was hoping to see me sometime over the weekend. He missed me. A lot. Apparently, he couldn’t stop thinking about me or the last time we were together.

  The last part made me shudder. Sneaking sex in a car parked along a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, wasn’t something a respectable adult did. Especially not when that adult was married to someone else.

  It was never my intention to toy with Steve’s feelings. I’d been frank with him. I told him I wasn’t after a serious relationship with him. In fact, I’d been emphatic when I said I didn’t want a new relationship whatsoever. It was only sex. And he had agreed.

  Calling me like he did was completely careless on his behalf and the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. That was when I decided to go for a walk with my phone. Find somewhere I wouldn’t be overheard before I had a talk with Steve.

  The lane continued past our cottage and, although it was a no-outlet road, I wasn’t sure how far it went until I’d reach the end. Ten minutes into my walk, I felt comfortable making the call. I’d put enough distance between myself and the cottage and had a good idea what I’d say if he answered his phone.

  He greeted me after the second ring with, “Hey, beautiful, you just made my day.”

  “Steve, what were you thinking when you called me like that?”

  “You’re angry. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re damn right I’m angry. We had an agreement. It was done. We weren’t going to do this anymore.”

  I heard him sigh over the line. “We did, but I can’t get you out of my mind, Jen, and I had to call you. I want to see you,” he said and I could picture him with his face lighting up with boyish charm.

  Steve looked the part of a history scholar with his refined bone structure and grown-up full beard. But then there was this ever-present boyish side where his eyes sparkled with devilment and his mouth always seemed to hold the makings of a smirk in preparation for the next acerbic remark he uttered or observation.

  “My husband didn’t like your timing.”

  “Relax. We work together. Just tell him its school related,” he suggested softly.

  I scoffed, “That would have worked if Chris hadn’t confronted me about you yesterday.”

  “What?”

  “The last 24 hours haven’t been very pleasant as you can imagine.”

  “Didn’t you deny it?”

  “My marriage was already ending, Steve. I wasn’t going to deny it and add insult to injury,” I said tiredly. “He knew when it happened.”

  He was quiet for a beat before finally saying, “Are you alright?”

  I gave his question some thought and answered, “No, actually. I’m not. It’s been harder than I expected it to be. I found Chris crying earlier. I hated seeing him like that.”

  “You said it yourself. He’s never there. Especially when you needed him the most. He doesn’t deserve you, Jen,” he repeated everything I had told myself aloud when I was justifying my behavior before I slept with him.

  “And you’re saying you do?”

  “I think I understand you better. I’d certainly be there for you more. You told me you were on your own most of the time. That it’s like being a single parent. It shouldn’t be like that. Marriage is a partnership.”

  I took a deep breath. “Right now, I don’t deserve anyone either,” I said succinctly. “Look, Steve, I’m sorry if my behavior misled you in any way. Please understand me when I tell you I don’t want to see you anymore. It was wrong of me to get involved before and it wasn’t at all fair to you. I didn’t anticipate how hard ending my marriage was going to be, but it is. It’s made me recall a multitude of memories I haven’t thought about in a very long time.”

  “I could help you—“

  “No,” I said rather gruffly cutting him off. “I don’t want that. This needs to be the last of our contact outside of school. I have to go.”

  I ended the call on his final words not wanting to hear what he had to say. I needed to end things with him and disconnecting like that definitely sent a message to him. But would he get it? That was another matter altogether.

  Chapter Twelve

  October 12, 1991 – Manhattan, New York

  The hotel room was nice. Very cookie cutter nice. As were all chain hotels. Even the more expensive ones such as that one. Chris was pulling out all the stops in an attempt to bring me out of the mood I’d been in since we lost the baby. It was a sadness that had set in so deeply, so profoundly, I seemed to be going through my days on autopilot. I entered into each new one simply wanting to get it over with. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a genuine, carefree laugh over something.

  My Master’s program was going well. I was certainly more focused on my studies, but then again, depression didn’t allow much time for a social life. Other than Chris and our families, I preferred keeping to myself and even with family, it was hard for them to draw me out of my shell.

  “So, what do you want to do first?” Chris asked as he came up behind me and pulled me to him.

  “I don’t know. Whatever you want to do.” I replied as I looked out the window to the street below.

  “How about we just venture out? I’m sure we’ll find something to do.”

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  It was sweater weather in New York as we strolled down streets with the smell of autumn and a persistent briskness in the air. We ate a light lunch at a café while Chris perused a tourism guide. It was our first time in New York on our own. So much to do and see and yet not even with the action of Times Square all around me, could I find enjoyment in my surroundings. After walking
around for hours, we returned to our hotel room.

  While I toed my shoes off, Chris dropped into an arm chair with a loud sigh as he ran his hands over his face. Maybe he was feeling as tired as I was. His school schedule was demanding. I didn’t know how he managed to fit a free weekend into it.

  While I considered changing out of my khakis and sweater for sweatpants and a t-shirt, Chris surprised me with, “What can I do to help you?”

  “What do you mean?” I smiled as I gave him a cursory once over. He looked so serious.

  “Jenny, I don’t know what else to do for you. I thought getting away like this would do you some good. Take your mind off of it even if it was for a little while, but it’s much worse than I thought.”

  “I’m fine,” I stated as what he said began setting in.

  “You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine for months.”

  My lips began to tremble first. Then the tears began welling up. I was treating his statement as an accusation and not the way it was intended. Now, in this unfamiliar setting, I felt trapped.

  He sighed again. “I should have listened to your mother. She was right. Weeks ago she said you needed counseling and I told her you just needed time,” he said tiredly. “But she was right.”

  “You’ve been talking about me?” I asked in disbelief as a feeling of betrayal began creeping up my spine. “With my mother?”

  “She’s worried about you. We’re all worried about you. My parents. Your parents. Jen, you’re trapped in this…this perpetual sadness and it isn’t good for you.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not as think-skinned as you are.”

  “It’s not about being think-skinned. I lost her, too, Jennifer,” he said in a stern tone. “But you can’t let it consume you. It was three months ago. It’s unhealthy. You aren’t eating. You weigh next to nothing. You’ve gone into this withdrawn state. Everyone is concerned.”

  “I hurt,” I choked, “all the time. Don’t you understand?”

  He was blinking back his own tears and ended up closing his eyes tightly. “I was with you. I went through it, too, and I hurt, too. But, my God, you can’t let the grief take over your life.”