Robbie worked later and later and when he came in each evening, he’d fall into bed, exhausted. We hadn’t made love in weeks; it only fueled my unease.
March 2008
Our one-year anniversary was approaching, but nothing about it was exciting. Robbie worked late every night. Our sex life had been little to none. There was one more photo shoot and he’d be done for a while. I couldn’t wait. I was starving for him.
On Wednesday, he came home and went straight to shower. I followed him upstairs a few minutes later, picking up the clothes he left on the floor. When I did, I smelled perfume on his shirt, not at the collar where he could explain a hug. It was on the tail of his shirt. I smelled it on his pants. I was holding his clothes, struggling with my emotions when he came out of the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” he laughed.
“I came up to pick up your laundry.”
“I would have gotten it. The pants need to go to the cleaner.” He reached for them, but I held tight. He looked up. “What is it?”
“Not sure, smells like some cheap-ass Walmart perfume. Definitely not my scent.”
“What are you talking about?”
I shoved the pants in his face. “Smell!” I demanded.
“The photographer…” he began. The look on his face was telling.
“Was in your pants?” I asked. “Because the scent is strong and perfume doesn’t just waft across the room to get on your clothing! God damn you!”
“She was spraying it.” He was stammering.
“Why?” I asked. I felt my emotions begin to bubble to my eyes. I knew the tears would come next.
“Because she wanted some more perfume on?” he asked.
“Stop it! That’s not what I mean and you know it! I’m not stupid! I bought it when you came home smelling of Malayna’s Plumeria. I’m not buying it this time.” I walked away. I was NOT going to cry in front of him.
He grabbed my arm.
“Let me go! You’re hurting me!” I yelled.
“Listen to me, dammit! It’s nothing, Lulu.”
I shoved him out of my way. “What’s nothing?” I shouted in reply.
“It was one time…”
“Jesus Christ! You admit it?” I asked. I felt my bottom lip quiver.
“It was a thing. It happened. I won’t lie to you. I made a mistake.”
I slapped his face, hard. “Was it ‘one time’ with Malayna too, and you need to confess that now, as well?” I cried.
He rubbed his face from the sting. “Yes.”
“Jesus Christ, Robbie! I’ve been questioning myself all this time, worried that I was untrusting. Now I know why! God damn you!”
He reached for me. “I made a mistake.”
“Don’t! Do. Not. Touch. Me.” I broke down in tears. “I knew it. I knew it all along. You told me in the beginning, ‘I’m not a one woman kind of guy.’ That conversation has played over and over in my mind ever since you came home smelling of Malayna’s perfume. You made me think I was insecure. I’m the one who made a mistake! God damn you…” The last words were a weak whisper.
I walked away and headed down the stairs. I grabbed my purse and keys and started for the garage door.
“Lulu, wait!” He came flying down the stairs behind me, still wrapped only in his towel. “Give me another chance. I’m sorry. I love you.”
“You had two chances, Robbie. I’ll make arrangements to get my things.”
“Where are you going?” he asked. He looked genuinely sad.
“Home.”
Home
I called my dad on my way. I still had a key, but I didn’t want to come in without him knowing.
“Lulu,” he said as soon as he answered. “It’s late; what’s wrong?”
“I’m coming home.”
When I walked in the house, he was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. He rose and wrapped me in his arms, kissing the top of my head, while I cried.
“What happened?”
We talked for an hour and finally, I went to my room and crawled in my old bed. I sent Keelin a text and told him I wouldn’t be in the rest of the week.
The next morning, Keelin was at the house early, knocking on the door. When I opened it, he hugged me. We sat at the kitchen table and had coffee while I told him everything. Dad was getting ready for work.
When he came to the kitchen, he smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to leave her alone. You’re a good friend, Keelin. I need to go. Will you be here for dinner?” Dad asked me.
“Not tonight. I have to go get my things and get this over with,” I told him.
He looked like his tears would start flowing at any moment. “I need to go. I love you, Lulu. Thank you, Keelin.”
“I love her,” Keelin replied.
Dad turned and went out the door.
“He cried with me last night,” I said, explaining my dad’s hasty exit.
“Lulu, my darling-don’t waste your tears on that asshat.”
After he was gone, Keelin and I just sat there. “I can only stay a little longer. I’m going to take your class this morning.”
“The research assistant can cover it; you don’t need to do that.”
“I want to. Just don’t sit here all day and mope. I’ll be back after classes and we’ll go get your things.”
“It’s just my clothes and stuff. I don’t want anything else. I’ll call him to let him know we’re coming. Thank you,” I said, and started to cry.
After he left, I showered and made a list. I called Robbie around noon.
“Hey,” he said.
“I wanted to let you know that Keelin and I are coming to get my things later.”
“Lulu, please hear me out. I’m sick over this. I can’t think – can’t focus. I made a bad mistake. Can we talk about it before you make any decisions?” He sounded blue, but I couldn’t let that affect me.
“No. I can forgive you, but I’ll never be able to forget. I can’t be with you if I can’t trust you. I will always wonder. I made a mistake believing that you were different. You told me you loved me, but you made love to someone else.”
“It was sex. That’s all. Please…”
“You were unfaithful. I can’t. I’ll have my things out by the time you get home. I’ll leave the key on the table. Please don’t be there.”
“Lulu, please! I’ll pull out of the Davis Brothers ad. Please. I love you!”
“No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have had sex with someone else if you did. You were unfaithful. I can’t live like that. I’ll file the papers. I don’t want anything from you. I just want to move past this.”
I swear I heard him bawling when I hung up.
Keelin was at the house at three o’clock. We took his car and mine and headed away to get my things. Robbie came in while we were packing my clothes.
“I was really hoping to get through this without you being here. I’m almost done. Can you please wait downstairs?”
He sat down on the bed, defying me, watching me. I went to the closet and started sweeping my things off the racks into large trash bags. It didn’t seem he was going to budge. As I filled a bag, Keelin would take it to the car.
Robbie rose and took our wedding picture off the dresser.
“I don’t want that. I don’t want anything but my clothes and my personal things.”
“Look at it,” he said.
“I don’t need to. I can remember every minute of that day, but that was a different lifetime ago.”
“We were happy and in love, Lulu. You remember that, don’t you?” He followed me into the closet.
“I don’t want to remember.” I swept another arm full of clothes from the closet into a trash bag. I left the dress he’d bought me for the gala.
“It’s yours,” he said, taking it from the closet.
“I don’t want it.”
“Lulu, that was a beautiful night.”
I took the dress from him, walked to the ba
throom and put it in the waste can. “I don’t want it.”
Keelin returned. “This is the last bag. I’m ready to go.”
Robbie was standing there, so I handed him the key and turned to go.
“Lulu…” I didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
He called later in the evening. I didn’t answer it. He called the next morning. I ignored it. The messages he left were groveling professions of love, begging me to forgive him. I couldn’t. I looked forward.
June 2008
When it came down to it, Robbie didn’t contest anything, so my life as Mrs. Robbie Muir ended quickly. I changed my name back to Louisa Welk. I’d never changed it at the university, so I didn’t have to explain to anyone what or why.
Keelin was my savior once again.
“Let’s go to happy hour,” he said one Friday a couple of weeks after I left Robbie.
“I’ll pass. I have some things I want to take care of.”
“You’ll have to step out sometime,” he prodded.
“Sometime I’ll join you. I will, but not tonight,” I told him. He smiled, understanding. “Soon.”
October 2008
I’d been back home with my dad for four months; happy to be there and have his company. One evening, he came in from work with a flyer. He handed it to me. “Matt from the body shop posted this today. I made a copy. I thought you might be interested.”
I looked it over. “Interesting. Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No,” he laughed. He sat down at the table with me. “You’re thirty-two…”
“Thirty-one for a couple more days,” I corrected him.
He smiled. “You need to be on your own.”
I looked at him and he began to explain. “You moved from here to Robbie’s, and then you were married, running your own home. I don’t want you to leave me again; you can stay here forever. But that’s not the right thing. You need to live, Lulu.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what I would say when I did. He was right. I knew that, but this place was my safe haven.
That’s what he’s trying to tell you. ‘You need to live, Lulu.’ Hadn’t Keelin said the same thing? Maybe you do need to get out on your own.
“It’s a cute place.”
“A lot of potential,” he agreed.
“The price is in an acceptable range.”
“You can afford it. You can afford it, and do some upgrades,” he added.
“It’s a good neighborhood. Close to work.”
“Close enough to me, too.” He smiled, and it warmed my heart.
“Let’s go look.”
“You go,” he said. “I don’t want to encourage you. Look close and if you have any concerns, I’ll go back with you.”
On Saturday morning, I met Matt at 205 West Vickers St. I parked across the street. From that vantage point, I noticed a well-kept yard, with a big, old oak tree. I got out of the car and stood on the street a moment, looking. He came out on the porch.
“Hey, Lulu. It’s nice to see you.”
I’d known him for many years. “You too, Matt. Can I ask why you’re selling?” I inquired as I approached.
“Cindy’s mom died a few months ago and left her home to us. It’s bigger. The kids grew up in this house, but there are more grandkids than there are of them–Cindy wants more room. Come inside, she’s waiting to show you around.”
I walked in and found perfectly kept hardwood floors. “Maple,” Cindy said, and hugged me. “Good to see you.”
“You, too.” I looked at the fireplace in the corner.
“Converted to gas two years ago, it’s a lot easier than hauling wood and cleaning that out afterward. We’ve used it about ten times each the last two winters. It’s cozy, and to me, a fire in the winter warms the place in a different way than just heat.”
“It’s nice,” I said and looked further. There was a wooden bookcase with glass doors. It was filled with books, separating the living room and the dining room. I smiled, thinking of my books. The top was open to the dining room and filled with framed pictures of family. The dining room led to a kitchen that was a bit dated. Nothing major, I just saw things I’d do differently. There was a swinging door into a laundry room.
Heading back to the kitchen, there was another swinging door into an open room. “Matt’s man cave,” she laughed. I saw an office.
Between that room and the living room was a stairway that took us to a second floor.
“It used to be three bedrooms. When the girls moved out, we knocked the wall out between the smaller room and the bigger one that we use.” She led me to the bathroom. “This is why.”
“Wow!” It was a large bathroom with a vanity and a large garden tub.
“All those years, all of us crammed into the smaller bathroom down the hall. I wanted a bath!” Cindy laughed.
“It’s beautiful.”
She led me down the hall to show me the other bedroom. When we finally went back downstairs, Matt was waiting to take me to the detached garage and led me around the yard. There was what looked like new, white vinyl fence and an open tiny yard, with one lone oak tree.
It’s perfect.
“I’d like to bring my dad back, so he can look for things I wouldn’t have thought to look for, and ask questions I wouldn’t know to ask.”
“Of course,” Matt said. “You just call and tell us when.”
“Thank you. It’s lovely.”
Driving home I thought about the house. I saw it in my mind and could visualize the things I would do. I found myself feeling excited. I found myself feeling happy. I hadn’t felt happy in a while.
Between all of our schedules, Wednesday was the first opportunity for Dad to return to the house with me. He did the ‘dad snoop’ thing that I knew he would. He opened cabinets, closets, climbed into the attic, looked under the sinks and when all was said and done, he gave me a thumbs up.
We’d talked about money before we came. He gave me an amount to offer. If they countered, he had a back up plan, but it wasn’t necessary.
“Cindy and I talked about this. We got a feeling when you were here that this is your home, that this is where you begin your new life,” Matt said.
I’d already pre-qualified and thirty days later, I was unlocking the door to my home, to a new future. It was liberating. I had a budget for things I needed; furniture was a must. Basics first, and then I could fill in as I went. I had a plan to paint and have plantation shutters installed before I moved in.
Then it began. I was going to make my mark on 205 West Vickers Street.
Two weeks before Thanksgiving, freshly painted and cleaned, I moved in. I had a bed and dresser, a sofa, TV, and a dining room table. My prized possessions were unpacked and added to the bookcase. It was my biggest accomplishment, my proudest moment. They’d been in my room at Dad’s; I didn’t take them to Robbie’s. He didn’t understand that love, so I kept it to myself. As time passed, I’d add things but for now, this was home.
Thanksgiving came and I proudly served Dad and Keelin roast turkey and vegetables, mashed potatoes with gravy, and rolls. Keelin brought the wine and we shared a lovely evening, topped off with a pumpkin pie that I’d proudly made from scratch.
The Friday after, I began decorating for my first Christmas.
2009
Thrift shop shopping became my favorite past time. Sometimes Keelin went, sometimes Rachael joined me. She hadn’t like Robbie a lot, so she wasn’t around much when we were together. It was nice to have her back in my life.
She didn’t like Jason either. Maybe I need to run potential boyfriends by her in the future.
Mismatched tables and chairs made my living room eclectic. I dug out my sewing machine and made brightly colored pillows which were thrown on the sofa and bigger ones tossed on the floor to lie on to watch TV.
Pictures of my mom, my dad, us as a young family, my dad and me, and me and friends through the years replaced the pictures Cindy and M
att had displayed atop the bookcase. A quilt from Grandma Pritford was tossed on the back of the sofa. Mirrors were hung in a collection above the sofa. My mom’s collection of cookbooks and baskets, that Dad had packed away, were proudly displayed throughout the kitchen.
It was becoming a place that made me want to go home in the evening to see what project I’d tackle next. I learned to repurpose furniture pieces I found. An old china buffet was now an entertainment center. I loved it.
My neighborhood was in a part of town where there were little bars every block or so. Keelin and the crew left Branson’s behind because I wouldn’t go there. Robbie still called, and I didn’t want to be there if he were to show up.
As time passed, we found new places that we loved and often went for happy hour on Fridays after work. New friendships were formed and Rachael joined us. She’d just sent her latest beau packing.
“Do you think something is wrong with me?” she asked, as we walked back to my house after drinks.
“Why on earth would you ask that?” I chuckled.
“Well, I can’t seem to find a keeper, ya know,” she whined.
“You’re talking to the wrong person,” I told her. “I don’t have a man in my life. You’re the keeper. Stop looking; someone will come along. You were with Chuck for a long time. Do you think you compare what you and he shared with the new guys that you meet?”
“I try not to. He was a great guy, and I’m genuinely sad that we didn’t work out. He just wanted more than I was ready for at the time, I mean, he was looking for a basketball team worth of kids. Who plans for that?” she laughed, remembering. “He didn’t even care if it was a co-ed team, he just wanted lots of kids. I had a hard time processing the idea of one.”
“Do you ever hear from him?”
“I did in the beginning; him telling me that he didn’t have to have a ‘Duggers family.’ The thing is, I knew that down the road he would want that, and I knew that I didn’t.” She paused, looking my way as though she knew what she was about to say would piss me off.
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