by Gary Smalley
“What do you mean, what’s going on? Nothing’s going on. I just attended a dance class.”
“I mean between you and that . . . Latin guy.”
“What? You mean Roberto?”
“Oh, it’s Roberto.”
“Of course, it’s Roberto. That’s his name.”
“So there’s nothing going on with you two, is that what you’re saying?”
“Of course not. Don’t be absurd.” The panicked look was gone.
“Marilyn, I saw him kiss you.”
“On the hand, Jim. It’s a culture thing. You’re being ridiculous.”
“A culture thing. I saw you two yesterday, alone over there by the front door. During your lunch break. And now at the class, with all the women he could pick, he singles you out to be his partner?”
“Oh, so what, you’re following me now?” She raised her voice.
“No . . . but what do you expect me to think? You take off last week with no warning. I have no idea where you’ve gone, where you’re staying. Michele won’t even tell me. You don’t mention anything about it in your note.”
“As I recall, what I said in my note was, I wanted you to leave me alone, to give me some time to myself. But instead of respecting the one thing I asked, you start following me?”
“Keep your voice down,” he said sternly. “If you want to turn this into a shouting match, two can play at that game. I’m trying to keep this civil.”
“I’m not shouting,” she said, then sighed. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
He looked up. Two couples from the dance class entered the breezeway. They stopped when they saw them. “Come on, we need to get out of here. The dance people are coming.” He tried to say it calmly.
“Well, that’s because this is the easiest way to get to where our cars are parked.”
“Let’s talk by your car then,” he said. “Where is it? Back here?” He walked toward the back parking lot.
“I’m not going with you.”
He turned around. “Marilyn, this will only take a minute. I’m not going to stop trying until you talk with me. You owe me at least that much after twenty-seven years of marriage.”
She turned around and saw the two couples standing by the entrance of the breezeway. “Okay, we’ll talk. For a few minutes. But you wait until all these people get in their cars and leave.”
“I can do that.” He walked into the parking lot and quickly spotted her car under a streetlight. A few moments later they were standing on either side, Marilyn on the driver’s side. The two couples came through the breezeway and headed to their cars.
One of the older men said something to his wife then walked toward them. “Is everything okay, Marilyn?”
“Everything’s fine, Gordon,” she said. “This is my husband, Jim. We’re fine, just having a little chat.”
He stood there a moment. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“We’re fine, really. See you all next week.”
The man waved, then turned and joined his wife. The two couples left. Over the next five minutes, a number of others came through the same way. They all waved to Marilyn, some shouted out pleasant good-byes.
“I think that’s everyone,” Marilyn said. “Now let’s get this over with. I’ve got to get home.”
“Home,” he said, disgusted. “What do you mean, home? You’ve left your home.”
“Right, I did,” she said. “Do you want me to make this permanent, Jim? I told you in my note, that’s the one thing that—”
“No, I don’t want you to make it permanent. I want you to come home . . . now.”
“Well, I’m not going to. I’m not even close to doing that. You coming here like this? Makes me want to—”
“Marilyn, if you’d tell me where you’re staying, I wouldn’t have to come here like this.”
“So that’s what this is about? That’s what you expect me to believe? And if I tell you, I’m supposed to believe you’re going to be fine with that? Then you’ll leave?”
He didn’t respond. What should he say?
“I didn’t think so.” She put her keys in the car door.
“So now you’re just going to drive off? Just like that? What has gotten into you?”
“Maybe you should read my note a few more times, Jim. I said everything I wanted to say when I wrote it. I want some time away. I want you to leave me alone. What’s so hard to understand?”
“Marilyn . . . I don’t understand how you think it’s okay to just walk away from our marriage like this. Without any warning, you just—”
“Without any warning? I’ve been trying to talk to you about our marriage, about how unhappy I’ve been for months. No . . . years.”
“When?” he said. “I don’t recall you saying anything about being this unhappy, enough to just walk out. You haven’t even given me a chance. We haven’t even tried counseling. You know what the Bible says. God hates divorce.”
“I haven’t said anything about divorce.”
“No . . . well, where do you think things like this lead? You’ve only been gone a week, and you’re already flirting with this dance instructor. You say there’s nothing going on, but that’s how these things happen, Marilyn.”
Her eyes seemed to fill with hate. She opened the car door. “This conversation is over.”
“Wait,” he said.
“No, I won’t wait.” She bent down to get in the car, then stood back up. “For your information, there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Roberto. He’s just a dance instructor, that’s all. He singled me out for two reasons. First, I was the only one who didn’t have a partner. And second, because he actually thought I might be a good dancer someday. But what would you know about that? You wouldn’t even dance with me at our wedding.”
Tears filled her eyes. Angry tears.
“Is that what this is about?” he said. “You want me to dance with you? Okay, then, I’ll take these stupid dance lessons with you, if that’s what it takes. I’ll come back with you next week.”
“Don’t you dare,” she said. “If you do, I’ll leave and never come back.” She got in the car, slammed the door, and turned the car on.
“Wait,” Jim said, backing away.
She backed the car out and drove off.
23
Watching all this unfold in the shadows behind a ficus tree in the breezeway was Audrey Windsor. She had noticed the man walk into the studio; he had a troubled look in his eyes. When she saw how Marilyn Anderson had reacted to him, she immediately guessed he was her husband.
And that they weren’t doing very well.
She had followed the last group of dance students out, then waited in the breezeway to make sure Marilyn was okay. Now that she had driven off, Audrey decided the coast was clear. But the man still stood there in the empty parking space under the streetlight, staring at Marilyn’s car as it disappeared around the corner.
Her own car was nearby. She waited a few moments to see if he’d leave, but he didn’t. Now he was staring at the ground, looking more sad than angry.
Oh no. He was walking this way. His car must be parked in front. Just act natural. Walk toward your car; you’ll be fine. Just then she felt a nudging in her soul she’d come to recognize over the years, like the still small voice of God. Then this marvelous, familiar peace, as if the Lord was telling her not to be afraid.
But it was more than that; a sense of boldness came over her.
She stepped out from the shadows toward the parking lot. He was only a few yards away. He looked up, noticed her. A strained smile on his face, but his eyes didn’t match the smile. He nodded as he noticed her watching him.
“You’re Marilyn Anderson’s husband, aren’t you?”
“What?” He stopped walking.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, but my car is parked out here.” She pointed. “Right over there, two spots beside where Marilyn parked. When I got to the end of the breezeway here, I heard
the two of you arguing, so I stayed back.”
“Well, I hate that you had to hear it. We don’t normally argue like that, certainly not in public.”
They stood there a moment. Audrey silently prayed for direction. “The two of you are separated, I take it.”
“Yeah, we are. That was the first time I’ve talked to her in a week.”
“By the sound of it, things didn’t go the way you hoped.”
He looked down. “No, they didn’t. Not even close.” He suddenly looked back in the direction Marilyn’s car had gone, like he’d just remembered something. “I can’t believe it. She still didn’t tell me where she’s staying.”
Audrey realized this was something she could find out; Marilyn’s address was probably written on the sign-up sheet. But she decided to leave it alone. “How long have you two been married?”
“Twenty-seven years.”
“That’s a long time. My husband Ted and I made it to fifty-one before he passed away last year.”
“Well, I doubt we’ll get that far the way things are headed. How do you know Marilyn? Are you taking dance lessons? I saw you in there a few moments ago.”
Audrey smiled. “Not exactly. It used to be my dance studio. Well, Ted’s and mine. My name’s Audrey Windsor, by the way.” She held out her hand.
“Jim Anderson,” he said as he shook it gently.
“The year before Ted died, he got pretty sick, so we put the studio up for sale. But I still like to visit as often as I can. The new owner, Roberto, doesn’t mind.” She leaned forward as if telling a secret. “As long as I stay out of his way, that is.”
A disgusted look instantly appeared on Jim’s face.
Audrey remembered something he’d said. “You know, your wife’s telling the truth about Roberto. I don’t think there’s anything going on between them, certainly not on Marilyn’s end. Roberto’s just a first-class flirt. He likes to play up that whole Latin-lover persona. Thinks it enhances his image.”
This was something that really annoyed Audrey. Roberto had given no hint of this during their negotiations; he had been the perfect gentleman. Nor that he would start introducing all the sensual dance moves that had become so popular lately, since those dance shows started appearing on TV. She had tried talking to him about it, but he’d basically told her—minus the Spanish accent—to butt out.
“I saw the way he looked at her,” Jim said. “Then how he singled her out from the class, the way he kissed her hand.”
“What, that? That doesn’t mean a thing. Your wife is an attractive woman but, it’s like I was telling you, Roberto is all image and show. So far, I haven’t seen signs that he means any harm. And believe me, I’ve been watching.” Before Ted died, he had the foresight to put a morals clause in their contract. If Roberto did anything too scandalous, he’d have to change the dance studio’s name.
“Maybe not, but . . . Marilyn is so vulnerable right now. And to be honest, she’s a bit naïve about these things.”
Audrey knew what was really bothering him. He was afraid he was going to lose her. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe a little bit of that kind of fear could be useful. “I think you’re wise to be concerned. It’s never a healthy thing for a husband and wife to be separated very long.”
“I agree. I want her to come home now, but she won’t even talk to me. How are we going to fix this if we don’t talk? I think we should get some counseling.”
“Counseling can be a very good thing,” Audrey said. “But . . . if you don’t mind me saying, I think something like that’s a little ways off. The problem is . . . you’ve lost her heart.”
He looked at her as though she’d started speaking another language. “What?” he finally said.
“You’ve lost her heart, don’t you see? Right now, she doesn’t want to hear anything you have to say. My guess is . . . she’s been trying to talk to you about how unhappy she’s been for a long time, but you haven’t been listening.” Maybe she was coming on too strong here.
“Did she tell you that?”
“Why, no . . .”
“That’s exactly what Marilyn said in her note, almost word for word.”
Audrey didn’t have the heart to tell him, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to come up with that. A woman who’s been married for twenty-seven years—especially a Christian woman—wouldn’t just walk out on her marriage unless she’d been trying to fix things a good while and had finally given up hope. “Has she ever talked to you about attending a marriage retreat with her, maybe suggested some marriage books the two of you should read together?”
He thought a moment. “Maybe . . . yeah, I guess. I don’t know. If she did, it was a long time ago.”
“Well, my guess is, she probably tried a number of things. Is it possible you’ve been too busy and missed her signals? Maybe you’ve been distracted by things at work? I know men tend to get preoccupied with things. During football season, especially during the playoffs, I’d have to stand right in front of the television to remind Ted that he even had a wife.”
Jim smiled. “I’m sure it’s possible. My business has been going through a tough time lately. I guess there’s a lot of that going around. Seems like it’s taking all my energy just to stay afloat.” He looked up toward the stars a moment. “I don’t know if we’ll even make it financially if she winds up leaving me for good.”
That bold feeling came over Audrey again. “Do you love her, Jim?”
“What? Of course I love her.”
“Does she know that?”
“Of course, she—” He paused, released a sigh. “I don’t know. She should know.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How should she know?”
Another pause, a longer one. He looked right at her. “You said you think I’ve lost her heart? You seem to know a little bit about these things. Any idea how I can win it back?”
Thank you, Lord. “I might,” she said. “How hard are you willing to try?”
“I’ll do just about anything at this point.”
“Just about?” Audrey said.
“Well, I mean . . . why? What do you have in mind?”
An idea that had begun forming a few minutes ago suddenly became crystal clear. It was something Marilyn had said to him, just before she had driven off. “How would you like to learn how to dance?”
24
Did she say . . . dance? “What?” Jim asked.
“Would you like to learn how to dance?” Audrey said again. “You said something to your wife about being willing to learn how to dance if it would get her to come home. I think your exact words were, ‘I’ll take these stupid dance lessons with you, if that’s what it takes.’”
Did he really say that? He must have. But how could dancing matter? Marilyn wouldn’t leave him over something as silly as that. Besides, he needed her to come home now. That’s what Mort said. They needed to be in counseling before the big deacons’ meeting in ten days. “Dancing lessons would take too long,” he said.
Audrey looked confused. “Too long? How do you know they’d take too long?”
“Well, I’m sure they will. I have less than two weeks. There’s no way you could teach me to dance by then.” He sighed. “Nobody could. You probably also heard her say I didn’t even dance with her at our wedding. I didn’t dance then and haven’t danced since. That was twenty-seven years ago. I don’t dance, Mrs. Windsor.”
Audrey’s look of confusion grew stronger. “Please, call me Audrey.”
“Audrey, then,” he said. “The point is, there’s no time for me to learn how to dance. And besides, I don’t see what good it would do if I could learn. She won’t even talk to me. How am I going to get her to dance?”
“I don’t understand the urgency. What’s going to happen in two weeks?”
“Less than two weeks. Really, ten days.”
“Okay, ten days. What’s going to happen then?”
“I’d rather not get into it. I
t’s kind of complicated. I appreciate the offer, but honestly, I can’t see how me learning how to dance helps our situation. I don’t know everything that’s eating her, but I can’t imagine dancing is high on the list.”
“It’s the first thing she mentioned,” Audrey said. “I think that’s significant.”
“Maybe. I think she just came out of a dance lesson. If she was coming out of a theater, she’d have said, ‘You never take me to the movies anymore.’ Our problems aren’t going to be solved by me learning how to dance.”
“I agree.” Her confused look was gone.
Now Jim was confused. “You do?”
“Your marriage problems are much bigger than your unwillingness to dance.”
“It’s not that I’m unwilling. I don’t know how. I stink at it.”
“Well, we can talk about that later. But I agree, you learning how to dance isn’t going to make your marriage problems go away. Not your biggest ones, anyway.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Because it just might soften Marilyn’s heart. Think about it. You said she left a week ago. And what’s one of the first things she does now that she’s free from you—I’m sorry. That’s a terrible thing to say.” Jim shrugged. “She signs up for dance lessons. A few minutes ago, she brings up the fact that you’ve never danced with her, not even at your wedding.”
Jim thought a moment. “You think it really matters?”
“It might,” Audrey said. “Back when Ted and I hit the twenty-five-year mark, we weren’t getting along at all. Our kids were grown, it was just the two of us, and we realized we didn’t have anything left. He didn’t like me, and I definitely didn’t like him.”
“But did you leave him?”
“No . . . but I wanted to. I was certainly thinking about it. About that time, some friends at church—a couple our own age—came alongside us and helped us out. They told us some things we’d never heard before. It didn’t happen overnight. If I recall, it took several months, but things began to improve once we started doing what they said. It’s sad when you think about it. People get married all the time, but we don’t have a clue about what makes marriages work. Looking back, I don’t think I was happy with Ted for most of those first twenty-five years. Maybe certain moments here and there. But we stayed together, year after year, banging our heads against the wall. And here the doorway to being truly happy was just a few steps down the hall. We never knew. If those precious friends hadn’t shared with us what they did, I think Ted and I would have split up.”