by R. D. Power
“Not if it means I don’t really have a wife, just some manufactured flavor of the year who deigns to spend a day with me here and there. Do you know how many nights we’ve spent together since our wedding? I figured it out the other day. Sixteen. That’s all. I’m sure you neither knew nor cared about that.”
“It’s not all my fault. You’re on the road half the time, and the other half you live in Rochester, of all places.”
“I’m not there anymore, remember? Anyway, you could be with me if your frigging record company didn’t dictate the terms of our goddamn marriage!” he repined.
“What you’re saying is you want a sweet housewife, barefoot and pregnant, cooking your meals and kissing your cheek when you walk in the door.”
“You know, when I got recalled to the Twins last Monday, I called to tell my wife, but I couldn’t get a word in as you went on and on about some flunky bringing you the wrong drink after a hard day of dance rehearsals. After that, I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve lost touch with reality in your rarefied world.” Jennifer hung her head down. He continued, “I want someone to share my life with, not someone I have to schedule an appointment with. I want a real person who I can be with, show off, rely on, and love, not a spoiled bitch who I have to sneak around with as if I’m having a secret affair. I want a wife who loves me, not one who refuses to acknowledge my existence. I want a wife who reserves herself for her husband, not a slut!”
“Don’t you dare call me a slut! There you sit, married to a star, feeling sorry for yourself. Millions of men would give anything to be in your shoes.”
“I’m sure they would until they were in them. Your vanity is absurd when you think about it. All you do is sing. You don’t create music, you don’t play an instrument, you merely sing. Lots of people can sing. You’re a star because you’re stunning, and that’s all that counts nowadays.”
“Dammit, no matter what I do, you say all I am is a pretty face. There’s a talented person behind this face, jerk. I am good at this! It’s not easy getting up in front of thousands or millions of people to sing. Contrary to what you think, very few people can do that well. No one gave me what I have. I’ve worked hard, and I went through a lot of failure, but I stuck with it and I succeeded. I’m a helluva lot more successful than you are. I probably make a thousand times what you do and I’m a thousand times more famous. When will you ever show me any respect?”
“You can do a lot better than wasting your life with a failure; you deserve a successful man. Maybe one of the handsome dandies who was drooling over you last—”
“Stop it. I don’t want them or anyone else but you.”
“You had the room convinced otherwise last night. By the way, the reason I play down your success is to counterbalance all the frigging hype that’s inflated your ego so much, I can’t stand being around you. I’m the only one who treats you like a real person. Trouble is, you want me to treat you as everyone else does, as if you were a goddess. Never! What it all comes down to is you merely sing. So what?”
“You merely throw a little white ball. So what?”
“I know. It’s meaningless. What we do doesn’t matter at all in any fundamental sense. The big difference between us is I know that.”
“What I do matters to me and my fans. It breaks my heart that it doesn’t matter to the person I most want it to matter to.”
“Think of the irony: it breaks your heart I don’t buy into the hype that is the recording business, but you couldn’t care less that our marriage is a sham. I’m not playing the game anymore.”
“You’re a fool if you leave me. I could get any man I wanted on Earth, loser!”
“You’ll never change. Go get any man you want. You can’t have me.”
“I’ll never come back to you. This is it!”
“Good.”
“You’ll grow old alone. You’re incapable of loving anyone, asshole,” she said as her crying intensified.
“I love Krissy!”
Jennifer blushed and said, “She’s nothing! I’m a star.”
“She’s dedicated her life to curing kids with cancer. What could be a more meaningful calling than that? She makes an incredible difference in this world, and I adore her for that and for everything else she is.”
“Tough. She’s married.”
“I know that! I want you to sign this.” He produced the divorce papers.
“You actually have the papers!” she exclaimed, now convulsing with sobs. He’d had the papers prepared a week prior and had been waiting for the right occasion to present them. “Please, Bobby, give me a … another chance … I don’t want a … divorce … Please. I love you.” He shook his head and proffered a pen. “I will not sign that!” she asserted, swatting the pen away.
He picked up the pen. “Our marriage was a farce. It’s done. The agreement states we leave the marriage with what we took into it. That’s fair. You have a lot more than I, as you love to point out. Just sign it.”
“No! You can’t make me.”
“Yes, I can. A simple threat should do it, since I know your career means so much more to you than I do. If you don’t sign it, I’ll announce publicly that we are married.”
“No, Bobby, my contract forbids that. They could rip it up if you do that.”
“I know. I could make you decide between your contract and me, but I know which one you’d choose anyway, so let me save you the embarrassment. I’m leaving you regardless of what you decide. So sign here!” he yelled to make it clear it wasn’t a request.
She took the pen and signed, her bosom heaving with sobs. In her grief, she said, “Krissy still loved you. Every week she’d whine to me about how much she loved you. She went to some of your games last year to watch you, but was too scared to approach you, since you were so mean to her the last time you met. You could have had her, but you were too much of an asshole. Now you’re too late. I hope you spend the rest of your career in the minors and the rest of your life lonely and miserable, you bastard!” She ran out weeping.
In desolation, he sat and looked at the wall.
Jennifer decided to withhold the news of her divorce from her family until Kristen was married, but when she learned in late September that Kristen had rejected Andrew, she knew she had to take action right away. He’ll call her as soon as he finds out, she fretted. The woman spurned resolved to get revenge on her ex. Another iniquitous scheme did she hatch. The plan began with a trip to San Francisco to see her cousin. She got to Kristen’s place and knocked on the door. No one was home. So far so good. She phoned her former husband.
“Hi, Bobby, it’s Jenny. I miss you.” He said nothing. “Um, I’ve been feeling bad about something.”
“What’s that?” he asked, not really listening.
“I know you’re going to hate me when I tell you this, but I don’t want it on my conscience anymore. Kristen never got married.”
“What?” he yelped. Now he was listening.
“I’m sorry for lying.”
“You fucking bitch! You know damn well that’s the only reason I married you in the first place.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did you honestly think a marriage founded on a lie could last? I can’t believe you.”
“I know I can never make it up to you, but I’ll give you her phone number, so you can call her. Please don’t hate me.” She gave him Kristen’s home phone number, and the livid man hung up.
Within seconds, she heard Kristen’s phone ringing from within the apartment. Jennifer went down to the small lobby to wait for her cousin. She felt ill. She hadn’t been herself since the breakup, feeling nauseated and exhausted. Maybe it was the upheaval of losing the man she loved, or maybe … She tried to put it out of her mind; the possible implications for her and her former husband were too pregnant.
While awaiting her cousin, she quietly wept. She loved Robert Owens like a Taylor, but had shown it like a MacDonald, her mother’s clan. Everything, even her career, seemed em
pty without him. The heartbroken woman reconsidered what she was about to do. She decided to proceed—not out of malice, but out of love. Maybe they could reconcile if only she could keep him and Kristen apart. Putting her hand on her churning stomach and calling back to mind the most probable reason for it, she felt her cause was far from hopeless: she might be in possession of an irresistible drawing card. But she had to keep him away from Kristen.
When Kristen got home after a long shift at the hospital, Jennifer was waiting for her. Kristen, surprised and uncomfortable with the visit, saw no choice but to invite her cousin in. “Why are you here, Jenny?” she said coldly. The two hadn’t spoken since before the GRAMMY show.
“To try to make up with my cousin, my best friend in the world,” Jennifer replied while the two walked upstairs.
“Come off it, Jenny. You know there’s no chance of that. We’ll never be friends again.”
“I know you’re upset about my marriage to Bobby, but I want you to know that he called me first. When I saw him, all my old feelings came rushing back.” Jennifer’s eyes began to water. She continued, “Krissy, it’s over between us. We’re divorced.”
The stunned woman didn’t know what to say. She did know what to think, though: My soul mate is available again! This time he’s mine. I’ll call him as soon as I can get rid of her. She said, “What happened?”
“He’s become such a jerk now that he’s a baseball player. He’s not the same person. I couldn’t stand him anymore, so I left him last month.” As she said this, her voice quavered, which made Kristen wonder who left whom. The two talked a little more about it, then Kristen went to have a shower. While she showered, Jennifer listened to and erased Robert’s message, and made a phone call.
When Kristen came out, Jennifer said, “I met a new guy last week, but I think he’s a creep. I told him yesterday I wanted to end things. He hasn’t stopped calling since.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No. He hasn’t done anything illegal. Maybe I’m worried about nothing.” Her cell phone rang. “Hello? I told you not to call me again. Leave me alone. No I’m not at home.” She motioned for Kristen to come closer to listen in. The man asked where she was.
Kristen grabbed the phone. “She told you to get lost. Leave her alone.”
“Who are you?” the man’s voice said. “You sound like a babe, too. Looking for some action?” Kristen hung up.
The phone rang again. Kristen told her not to answer, but she did. Jennifer turned away and started to yell into the phone. She turned back, walked to Kristen and said, “Krissy, what should I say to him?”
Kristen took the phone and said, “Listen, creep, what you’re doing to Jenny is deplorable. You are lower than a slug. Just leave us alone! Get that through your thick head, loser!” She hung up. Jennifer smiled inwardly. The calls stopped, and the ladies talked, ate, and went to bed.
Strange to think that on certain momentous days, days that will change the rest of our life, we go to bed unaware of the significance of a seminal event that occurred that day.
Chapter Seven
The Perfect Ending, But …
Strange to think that on certain momentous days, days that will forever change our life, we wake up without a clue as to what is about to happen. Wednesday, the twenty-sixth of September was to be such a day for the last surviving member of the Owens family. Robert got up that crisp fall morning and checked for phone messages. He heard:
“Krissy, what should I say to him? … Listen, creep, what you’re doing to Jenny is deplorable. You are lower than a slug. Just leave us alone! Get that through your thick head, loser!”
Kristen slept until the phone rang at six o’clock. She heard, “Hello, Taylor. This is the loser. We’re back to the school bus again. I should’ve learned then how mean the two of you really are, so I guess you’re right: I do have a thick head. Don’t worry, I will leave Jenny and you alone. Goodbye forever!” Before the shocked woman could say a word, he had hung up.
“That was Bobby!” What was he so upset about? She recalled the phone call last night. “No! It can’t be!” Panicked, she ran out of her room to confront Jennifer, but she was gone. Kristen shrieked. This time though, she didn’t cry; she didn’t feel sorry for herself. “I’m not letting Jenny get away with this!” she said. She reasoned that Robert must be interested in her. Why else would her cousin have done this?
She checked his team’s schedule on the Twins’ website and found out they were playing in Toronto that afternoon. I’m going to fly there right away. I’m going right up to him to tell him I love him. If he dismisses me, at least I’ll know and I can get on with my life. She called her parents to tell them of her plans and said she’d come to see them afterward. Her parents wished her luck.
Kristen landed in Toronto mid-afternoon and took a cab to the ballpark where the Twins and Jays were in the sixth inning. She bought a seat close to the Twins’ bullpen and walked there resolute to conquer her fear and her man. She looked down to see the players and saw Robert sitting there glum as could be. “Bobby Owens!” she yelled. He looked, for only the Taylors called him Bobby. “Come over here, please,” she instructed, pointing just below her. The crowd roared as the Jays got a double. Robert, shocked to see her, stood.
“Kristen?” he said. As the brilliant sun blots out the universe beyond, dazzling Kristen was all that existed for Robert at that moment. Seeing her again instantly filled him with indescribable joy and serenity. He had missed her so much more than he’d realized.
“Come here,” she ordered again when the noise subsided. He obeyed, nervously walking over to stand just beneath her. “I’m here to set you straight. Just listen and don’t say a word. I have two important things to say: First of all, I love you.” Fireworks exploded, and the crowd screamed. Everyone in the stadium was ebullient for Kristen and Robert. No wait, it was the homerun. She took a big breath and swallowed hard. When she could be heard, she continued, “God help me, I’m still head over heels, hopelessly in love with you. I always will be.”
Rapturous but bemused, he said, “But you called to—”
“Ah, ah! What did I say? Let me finish.” A few of his teammates and some fans were listening in, amazed at the interchange. “I had no idea I was speaking to you last night. I fell for a cruel hoax. Jenny showed up out of the blue yesterday. She said she divorced you last month because you’re this stuck up baseball player now. Then she said she met someone else who turned out to be some kind of stalker. She even got some guy to call her posing as the pervert, and let me listen in. He made a pass at me. Then her phone rang again, and she must have hung up and dialed your number and, well, you heard what you heard. I’m here …”
Another hit by the Jays, and more uproar.
“Owens!” the coach said. “You’re here to pitch, not flirt. The manager wants you to warm up. Get going!”
“I’m sorry, Kristen, I have to go. Can you stay—”
“Owens!” the coach screamed.
“I’ll be at my parents’ house,” Kristen informed him. “You can call me there this evening if you have anything to say to me.” With a sanguine smile, she walked away.
“Owens!”
“Krissy! Wait. I love …” but she was too far away to hear in the noisy ballpark. He went to warm up. She climbed the stairs, turned the corner and leaned against the wall to prevent collapsing from the overwhelming emotion she felt. After recovering for a few minutes, she walked to Union Station to catch the next train to London.
Kristen sat by the phone all evening praying for it to ring. It did, five times—someone else always calls when one is expecting an important call from someone—but none was from him. By eight o’clock she became subdued, thinking he should have called by now. She went to her room to listen to music.
At 8:27, the doorbell rang. Lisa opened the door to see Robert standing there. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Come in, please,” she said. “Krissy’s upstairs in her old room.” Bi
ll came over to shake his hand. Jeremy and his wife Natalie, who’d come to visit Kristen, also greeted him. “I’ll call her,” said Lisa.
“No,” Robert said. “Can I go to see her? I need to be alone with her for a few minutes.”
“Of course. Go on up,” said Bill.
Robert knocked on Kristen’s bedroom door, quivering from fear. “No answer,” he said to her parents, who were hovering at the bottom of the stairs with Jeremy and Natalie.
“She probably has her headphones on,” Lisa assured. “Just go in.”
He opened her door a crack and saw her sitting by the window, looking outside. She did have headphones on. “Krissy?” he called. She didn’t hear. She was singing softly. What was it? He drew closer. “Night and Day.” She was singing with the song on the headphones. His “Night and Day” that he had serenaded her with years earlier as she sat by this very window. I didn’t know she recorded that, he thought with some embarrassment. He crept up behind her and began to sing in time with the recording.
It’s hard to say when she realized he was there. She may have been imagining he was doing what he was doing: singing to her. He pulled off her headphones while singing the song; she didn’t move, frozen in her gaze outside toward the branches where young Bobby had perched.
She turned and gasped, “Bobby?” He smiled. “You’re really here?” He nodded. She began to shake all over. His quivering and her shaking registered 4.5 on the Richter Scale. “What are you doing—”
“Now it’s my turn to speak,” he interrupted. “So this time, let me say something before speaking, okay?” She nodded apprehensively. He knelt before her. “I rehearsed it and I’m nervous as hell. I’m no poet and I’m no romantic, as you know, but I speak from the heart. I go through life without you feeling empty inside, as if I don’t have a soul. Without you, I’m just that insecure, lonely little eight-year-old boy who had nothing but his bat and glove. I have no one to really talk to, no one to share special times with, no one to help me through hard times, no one to admire, no one to love. I’ve been a fool, Krissy. Please forgive me for being so pigheaded, for taking you for granted, for hurting you, for pushing you away.”