Until Forever

by Luisa Cloutier

  “Do you think that can be a business?”

  “I know it can. More people come to that gym for me than for everyone else combined,” he said. “because I give my clients results. People will pay for that. Right now I’m working my butt off to make somebody else rich. I’m going to open my own place, and then all the work I do will be to make us rich.”

  “I believe you can,” I said.

  “I know I can. And I promise you that I will give you a good life. After I open my business, you’ll never have to work for anyone else, ever again.”

  “I love you,” I said, feeling safe in his arms, his words echoing in my head. He made me believe. He had a magical way of relaxing me, of making me feel better no matter what was happening. He could make me forget anything and have hope.

  I felt guilty that I made him feel sad for me and I told myself that I had to be stronger for him, the way he was strong for me. We were a team, and together we could get through anything, do anything, forever.

  We needed money to open a business, so we had to keep working, saving as much as we could. Brandon worked extra hours at the gym. The more he worked, the more people he trained, and that meant the more money he could earn. He came home exhausted most nights. I hardly ever saw him. Feeling lonely, I thought a lot about my family in Italy and missed seeing them.

  I got a new job as Assistant Manager at DCU, another bank. I had more responsibility, more money, more stress. I worked later, too. Why rush home to an empty house, I thought. I started getting more attention from men at work than from Brandon, and that made me angry. I wanted the attention to come from him, but it never did. It seemed all he cared about was his work, making his dream come true. I felt like I had nothing, like I didn’t matter.

  This continued for months. We withdrew from each other, became more distant. I found myself spending my time at home emailing other people rather than talking with him. It was as if we were living two different lives. We never made love anymore. I wasn’t sure we even loved each other any longer.

  The first weekend that Brandon didn’t come home was like a knife to my heart. He said he’d spent it at a friend’s house, but in my heart I knew he was with another woman. I pretended like I didn’t care and barely talked to him that week. A few weeks later he did it again, stayed away for the entire weekend, claiming that he was with a male friend and networking with potential clients that would be good for his business when he opened it.

  I started going out for drinks with coworkers. Men would hit on me all the time, but I would always resist them. I was still married to Brandon, and my vows meant something to me. This went on for months and months. I felt our marriage rotting around me and it was torture. I wanted it to be different, but I didn’t know how to fix it.

  Brandon noticed that I was communicating with people on the computer and he asked me what was going on.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me nothing. What are you doing?”

  “You’re asking me that? Ask yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just leave me alone, okay? I need some space.”

  “Talk to me, Luisa.”

  But I wouldn’t. I found silence much more tolerable. I was falling apart and I did not want to let that out into the open by talking about it. I couldn’t handle that.

  But the more I isolated myself from him, the farther away he drifted and the lonelier I felt. I was sinking deeper and deeper into a black hole and I didn’t see the way out. My life had become nothing but pain.

  One morning I was sitting on our bed and I just started to cry. Brandon came in and saw me. He hurried over.

  “What’s wrong, my love?” he said.

  I shook my head, unable to answer.

  “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  I took a breath and stopped my weeping. “I don’t want this anymore,” I whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have to say it!” I hesitated and calmed myself. “I want out. Go find yourself another woman, someone who will make you happy. It isn’t me.”

  Brandon kneeled in front of me. “Luisa, don’t say that.” He grasped both my hands and made me look into his eyes. “You know I love you, and I know you love me too.”

  I said nothing. Tears streamed from my eyes. I had to look at the floor to try to control my pain.

  He said, “My love, it hurts me to see you cry.”

  I still could not say anything.

  “Look into my eyes,” he said. He gently lifted my chin so I was looking at him. “Remember when we fell in love?”

  Thinking of those days, I began to weep harder.

  “I know you still feel the same way,” he said.

  The only answer I could give him was to shake my head, no.

  . . . . .

  I continued to push him away for months, and the more I did this, the deeper I sank into depression. I felt lost. When I got so low that all I could see was the pit of who I was, the depths of my heart and soul, I saw that the only thing that really mattered to me in life was the love Brandon and I had found years ago and had built piece by piece into the most solid thing in my life. I needed that love. I needed Brandon. I needed to stop pushing him away, stop letting life get between us, and make our marriage the priority.

  I went to him and tried to show my affection, but it was too late. I kept trying, though. Then one night, when his mother was coming over for dinner and we were getting dressed upstairs, I came up behind him and kissed his neck.

  He pulled away then said, “We need to talk.”

  I could see by the look on his face that this was serious and it scared me. I said, “Yes.”

  We sat down on the bed and for a moment stared at each other in silence. Brandon gazed off, looking troubled, struggling to find the words. Finally he turned back to me and looked directly into my eyes.

  “I don’t know how to say this other than just saying it,” he said.

  “Say what?”

  “I have feelings for someone else.”

  His words hit me like stones, each impact burning with pain. I steeled myself, trying not to show it.

  “Before I do anything,” he said, “I want to ask you for a divorce.”

  I couldn’t hold it in any longer and started to cry.

  He stared at me, looking shocked. “Why are you crying?” he said. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “No,” I said. “I know it’s my fault. But I love you.”

  “I love you too, Luisa,” Brandon said, and for an instant I felt hopeful, but then he shook his head and said, “But I’m not in love with you anymore.”

  Tears streamed out of his eyes too.

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to believe him.

  “I’m sorry, Luisa,” he said.

  CHAPTER 16

  I told Brandon to move out. He’d started seeing another woman, someone he’d met at work. A friend of ours told me that it wasn’t Brandon who initiated it, that the woman had pursued him. He must have liked the attention she gave him, that I hadn’t been giving him.

  I had no interest in seeing anyone else. I was just trying to make it through each day. I stopped eating and lost a lot of weight. I lost interest in everything.

  One day I received a FedEx package. It reminded me of the Green Card fiasco in Italy and that made me think about how much love Brandon and I had had and how that was now gone. I wanted it back. I wanted him back. I opened the envelope to find divorce papers from Brandon, with a note that I needed to sign them. I had no intention of sig
ning anything. Instead I ripped up the papers and threw them away.

  I kept in touch with Brandon’s mother, Lora. We had been through a lot together, and while she loved her son, she also had come to love me. She called a lot to find out how I was. I could cry with her like I could with no one else. She felt bad about what was happening.

  “You should go out on a date with someone,” she told me. “He is. You should, too. You’ll feel better.”

  I knew that wouldn’t make me feel better.

  I stayed by myself, hating every minute that I was alone in our house. Sometimes I even felt scared. Old New England houses make weird noises, and when you’re a woman alone in the middle of the night, your imagination easily gets away from you.

  One night the noises scared me so much that I had to get out. I fled to the only person I knew would take me in. Brandon’s mother. Lora let me come in and told me I could sleep there as long as I wanted. She made some tea and she and I sat in the kitchen, talking.

  “I wonder where Brandon is,” I said. I knew he was with some woman, but I didn’t know who or where and that bothered me. I still loved him. It hurt not knowing.

  “Do you really want to know?” she asked me.

  “Yes. We were together so long, it’s hard to just have him gone and not know where he is, what he’s doing.”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes. Why? Do you know?”

  “I know.”

  I leaned closer. “Where is he? How do you know anyway?”

  “Gabriela,” Lora said, “the woman I used to work with, she saw him. She told me where he’s staying.”

  “Where?”

  “In the house across the street from her. One day she was looking out the window and recognized him moving in with the neighbor. He’s been there ever since. ”

  “Really? Whose house it is? Who is he staying with?”

  “I don’t know her name.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Why?” Lora said.

  “I want to go there. Just to see her.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  Lora didn’t have an answer.

  “Please,” I said. “I really have to do this.”

  Lora thought for moment then she let out a sigh. “Well, you can’t go now, in the middle of the night. And you can’t go alone. I’ll take you there in the morning. But just to see. Not to do anything, right?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  . . . . .

  In the morning, before leaving, I made sure I was dressed well and my hair and makeup were done. I wanted to look good in case Brandon saw me, or that woman saw me. I didn’t want her or Brandon to think he was better than me.

  When we pulled up in front of the house in Lora’ car, Brandon’s car was parked in the driveway. I got out of the car.

  “Where are you going?” Lora asked.

  “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

  I walked past the front lawn and up to the door. I didn’t see a name on the mailbox. I wondered who she was. I wanted to see her. And to talk to Brandon. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to say to him, but I couldn’t just leave as though this were all right. I rang the doorbell.

  As I waited, I looked at the windows, the yard, Brandon’s car, the door again, back at the windows. A dog barked inside. I knew someone was in there. I pressed the bell again. No one answered. I looked over at Brandon’s car again. He was here. When I turned back, I saw the curtain on one of the windows move and was sure I’d seen a small figure move behind it. Her. I rang the bell again but still no one answered.

  I was getting more and more angry as I waited and no one opened. I imagined what would happen if she opened the door. Before she could get a word out, I’d grab her by the hair and teach her to sleep with another woman’s husband.

  I took a step back and peered up at the second floor of the house. That’s probably where the bedroom would be.

  “Brandon!” I called out. “Come outside. I just want to talk with you.”

  I waited, but he did not show himself, no answer.

  “I’m not leaving until you come out,” I shouted up toward the windows. “I can wait here all day.”

  I waited. Still no response from inside. From either of them.

  I walked back to the front door and pressed the bell. Then I knocked. The dog barked again. But what were the cowards doing inside, I wondered.

  “Brandon!” I shouted again.

  I walked around to the side of the house where his car was parked and shouted to him again, but he wasn’t budging. I could be as stubborn. I went back to the front to sit on the stairs and wait until they came out, but as I was about to sit down a police car, lights flashing, pulled up into the driveway.

  I felt exasperated that now I had to deal with this cop. The officer was a man in his fifties, with a stomach like a pregnant woman’s. Every few steps, he had to stop to pull up his pants along with his belt, holster and pistol. He stood in front of me, hands on his hips, and told me I had to leave.

  “My husband is inside this house,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “I want to talk to him.”

  “Ma’am, this is private property. They don’t want you here so you need to leave the property.”

  “Not until my husband comes out.”

  “It’s not going to happen that way. You have to leave.”

  “I want to talk to my husband.”

  “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Is that so?” I said.

  “That’s so. Now I’m trying to be nice. You have to leave or I’ll arrest you. One way or the other, you’re leaving here. Do you understand me?”

  “I have the right to talk to my husband?”

  “Not here you don’t. Now let’s go,” he said, reaching for my arm.

  I pulled my arm away. “All right, I’ll leave.”

  His expression turned harder now. He didn’t like that I pulled my arm away, but I didn’t need him escorting me off. I started walking toward Lora’s car. Lora was standing outside the car, watching, looking worried.

  The policeman followed me.

  “Do me a favor,” I said to him. I spoke loud, so they’d here me inside. “If you see my husband, tell him that he doesn’t have the balls to come out and talk to me.” I twisted my head and shouted toward the house, “Do you hear me?”

  . . . . .

  Several men had asked me out since Brandon and I had separated. I always said no. But now, after seeing Brandon’s car outside that woman’s house, I accepted the invitation from Manny, the cousin of a friend of ours, someone both Brandon and I knew socially. At parties, Manny always looked at me in ways that Brandon didn’t like. I had never had an interest in him, but when he called me, I think I agreed more as revenge against Brandon than as something I looked forward to doing.

  I wrote down his name, the address of the restaurant in Boston where he wanted to take me, and the day and time, and stuck it to the refrigerator. When the weekend finally came, I dreaded going on the date, but I went through with it. Lora encouraged me to go. A few friends told me it would be good for me. I didn’t look at it as a date. I was just having dinner with someone.

  And that’s all it turned out to be. We ate, we talked about my marriage and his longtime relationship that had just broken up. We both had broken hearts. We got along well, but there was no chemistry between us, no attraction. When it ended, we hugged and that was it. It was a pleasant night with a friend.

  When I got home
, I saw that Brandon had come by and left a check on the kitchen counter. He still had a key and always paid the mortgage and the utility bills. I also noticed that the note with Manny’s information on it that I had stuck to the refrigerator was now on the counter, near the check. Brandon had seen it.

  The next morning the phone rang early. It was Brandon.

  “Did you find the check I left last night?” he said.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Um, did you go out?”

  “Yes.”

  He was silent for a moment. “With who?”

  “Paula’s cousin, Manny. Remember him?”

  “Yeah.” He was silent for a moment then he cleared his throat and said, “How did it go?”

  “It wasn’t a date, Brandon,” I told him. “There’s no attraction.”

  “No, no, I didn’t think that. I was just…just asking.”

  “You should have come to the door,” I said.

  He knew what I meant. “It wasn’t me who called the police. It was her. I tried to stop her.”

  “It’s a good thing she didn’t open the door. For her sake.”

  He let out a nervous laugh. “I think so. We’re not together anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “She meant nothing. It was just…you know. She never meant anything to me.”

  . . . . .

  He started calling me more often, asking how I was doing. My friend Pat said that he had no right to check up on me. I said I didn’t mind. I liked talking to him. I loved him. I was the one who pushed him away, not the other way around. Pat kept saying that I shouldn’t put up with him, that he was the one who cheated. But I knew there was much more to it than that.

  Then one day the call was different. Instead of just asking how I was doing, he said, “Luisa, I want you to have dinner with me.”

  His words took my breath away. I was confused, but I agreed.

  When we were together in the restaurant, I looked across the table at him and asked, “Why did you want to have dinner with me?”