Driven To Distraction

by Judith Duncan

  Tony stared at her, his expression grim, a hard glitter in his eyes. “I don’t like your ex much,” he said flatly. “And I sure as hell don’t like the number he laid on you.”

  Feeling suddenly shaky, Maggie stuck her hands in the pockets of her slacks and hunched her shoulders. “He hasn’t done anything to me.”

  Tony made a derisive sound. “Yeah, right. It took me about thirty seconds to figure him out. He’s crowded you into a narrow little space. You’re like one of those mice in the maze races you see at the fair. You follow the path and you stay within the walls, running like hell from point A to point B. Because that’s what the game is all about.”

  His expression altered, and he gave her a twisted smile. “And I keep hoping that you’re going to run down one dead end too many, and you’re going see how damned senseless it all is. Then maybe you’ll finally say to hell with the maze and climb out over the walls.”

  Maggie got this funny hot rush, one that went straight to her head, and she reached out and grasped the back of the chair to steady herself. It was as if the analogy had given her the ability to see herself more objectively. As if she was standing on the high, narrow walls of a maze, looking down. Her heart beating frantically in her chest, she stared at him, knowing every drop of color had drained from her face.

  His expression grim, Tony straightened and came toward her, watching her. He stopped an arm’s length from her, then hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, the muscles in his face tight. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he spoke. “Climb over those goddamned walls, Maggie,” he said, challenging her with his dark, angry gaze. “Say to hell with the game and marry me.”

  Everything swam out of focus but him, and Maggie stared at him, her heart lurching to a stop. Marry him? Oh, God, she had never expected this. Not now. Not ever.

  Her heart started to pound again, and she tightened her hold on the chair, the rushing in her head making her sway.

  His gaze fixed on her, he reached out and trailed his finger down her cheek, his touch unbelievably gentle. “Marry me, Mag,” he repeated, his voice gruff.

  An albatross. You’ll be nothing but an albatross around his neck. A sick feeling washed through her, and she pressed her fist against her breastbone, a deep ache forming in her chest. Feeling suddenly cornered by his closeness, she took a step back, the pain around her heart intense.

  He looked away and jammed his hands in his pockets, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Then he spoke, his tone hard. “Or are you playing another game?”

  Maggie folded her arms and hunched her shoulders, despair washing through her. Swallowing hard, her voice breaking a little, she answered, “It was never a game. Never. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  He turned and looked at her, a hard glint in his eyes. “Then why don’t you just say yes?”

  She gestured helplessly with her hand, then looked away. It took her a while before she could answer. “Because it’s wrong for you.”

  He grabbed her and pulled her head around, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t you dare make my decisions for me, Maggie,” he snapped, anger flashing in his eyes. “I’m a big boy, and I’m quite capable of making up my own damned mind about how I want to live my life. Now, I want to know how you want to live yours.”

  He made a disgusted sound and jerked his hand away, then went over to stand in front of the window. Maggie watched him, the pain in her chest climbing higher. She waited for it to ease just a little, then replied, “But have you really thought about the life you want to live? I’m forty-three years old, Tony. I can’t have any more kids, and I’m not sure I’d want to if I could. We’ve been living in our own little fantasy world, but there are some realities out there we haven’t even considered.”

  He turned, his face etched with anger. “Don’t give me that crock. This isn’t about reality. This is about you. You’re the one who’s backing away, not me. I knew—the minute I saw you standing in the living room with your face covered in paint—how I felt about you.” He came toward her, his body language almost menacing. “But you’d better face a few realities yourself, Burrows. Your backing off isn’t tied to any noble feelings about me or my life, it’s tied to your own lack of self-esteem. I don’t give a damn if you’re nine years older than I am or if you can’t give me kids. That’s not how I measure the quality of life. It’s about spending the rest of our life together, willing to take the good along with the bad. That’s what this is all about.”

  Maggie dashed away the tears that had spilled over, then made a beseeching gesture with her hand. “Please. Just hear me out.”

  Resting his hands on his hips, he glared at her. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Maggie. I want to know if you’re going to put it on the line and marry me.”

  She made another pleading gesture, but he never gave her a chance to speak. He shook his head, bitterness twisting his mouth. “Forget it. If you don’t realize what this is all about, I may as well save myself a lot of grief and clear out now. I’m not going to keep putting myself through this. Because I sure as hell can’t fight what I can’t see.”

  “Tony, please—”

  His face stiff, he cut her off. “Yes or no, Maggie.”

  There was so much pain in her chest that she couldn’t answer him, and he gave her a twisted smile. “Fine. If you ever make up your mind, let me know.” Slapping his leg, he turned to go. “I’m outta here.”

  Maggie covered her face with her hands, a sob tearing loose when she heard the door slam.

  Nothing had ever sounded so final.

  Chapter 12

  Maggie never slept at all that night. By morning, she was so pale, her face so puffy and swollen, that she actually looked ill. And Kelly never questioned her explanation when she said she wasn’t feeling well.

  She let her daughter blow off steam about what a jerk her father had been, and somehow managed to keep her emotions in check when she rattled on about how terrific Tony was and how he’d driven her and Scott to Prince’s Island to go skating. Maggie managed to keep everything in check until Kelly asked if she could go to the Drumheller Badlands with Scott and his parents. And then she really had to fight to keep up her front. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Kelly to go; she did. With Kelly gone for the day, she wouldn’t have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.

  After Kelly left, Maggie went downstairs and huddled in the corner of the sofa in the family room, her throat aching as she stared blindly into the semidarkness. She couldn’t even bear to think about Tony. But she did think about how long it would be before she stopped hurting.

  She was at least able to function the next morning. Granted, she looked like hell, but an awful numbness had set in, and she felt oddly disconnected, almost as if she were in someone else’s body. Maggie was never sure how, but she also managed to function at work, although Frank kept giving her funny looks. And she saved herself a lot of heartache by walking the long way home.

  But the minute she started up her back walk, her throat got tight and her eyes started to fill up, and she felt so raw inside that she wasn’t sure she could make it into the house. Dropping her purse and keys in the hallway, she went straight to the bathroom and locked herself in, her subsequent emotional purge just about turning her inside out.

  By the time Kelly came home, she had more or less pulled herself together. She was in the kitchen making potato salad— with the blind pulled down so she couldn’t see next door— when the back door flew open. Storming into the kitchen, Kelly threw her backpack across the room, then turned to face her mother, her face stark white. “What’s going on?” she nearly shouted. “I just stopped in at Tony’s, and he’s leaving town tonight. He would barely talk to me, and Spider said he’s going to the States instead of Mario, and he won’t be back for at least six weeks.” Tears welled up in the teenager’s eyes and her mouth started to tremble. “What did you do to him?” she demanded. “I asked him what was wrong, and he wouldn’t eve
n look at me. He said I’d have to ask you.”

  It was a double blow for Maggie—her daughter’s obvious distress, plus the news that Tony was leaving. Except the second one was much worse. A hundred times worse. Knowing her own face had gone pale, she went to touch Kelly, but the girl dodged away from her hand. “Don’t! Don’t try to make things all right. Because they aren’t. You did something, didn’t you?”

  Feeling as if her heart had collapsed, Maggie stared at her daughter, not knowing what to say.

  Tears were streaming down Kelly’s face when she demanded, “Didn’t you?”

  Her own vision blurring, Maggie swallowed hard, then nodded.

  Her daughter gave her one scathing look, then turned and snatched her backpack off the floor. “I really think I hate you.” Shoving a chair aside, she ran out of the room, and Maggie heard her sobbing as she started down the basement stairs.

  Her throat so tight she couldn’t swallow, Maggie went to stand at the window overlooking the backyard. Tightly folding her arms to compress the pain in her chest, she stood staring out, unable to see. Just like that, she had lost them both.

  Over the next few days, Kelly pretty much stopped speaking to her, and Maggie pretty much stopped eating. It was a grim, silent household, and Maggie went to work and came home feeling like death inside. She had received a couriered letter from Bruce, which she threw unopened on top of the fridge, along with the one he had left on the table, also unopened.

  After the second letter arrived, Maggie turned off the answering machine, knowing he would likely follow up with a phone call. She didn’t even want to hear the sound of his voice. She would have disconnected the phone as well, but she didn’t want to do that to Kelly, since most of the calls were for her.

  And Maggie knew with an awful certainty that the one call that would mean anything to her would never come. Because she had seen him leave. After Kelly had stormed off downstairs Monday evening, Maggie had gone into the living room and watched out the window until nine o’clock, when the car transport had pulled up in front of the shop. She’d watched Spider load a car from one of the bays, and she’d watched as Tony tossed a duffel into the cab, then climbed up into the driver’s seat of the eighteen wheeler. And then she had watched him drive away, taking her last piece of hope with him.

  Thursday night after work Maggie went for groceries, feeling so listless that even pushing the grocery cart was an effort. By the time she got home, she was so drained she just wanted to put her head down on the steering wheel and not move for twelve straight hours. Normally Kelly would have brought in the groceries, but Maggie carried them in herself. She couldn’t face another one of Kelly’s silent rebukes tonight.

  She heard the phone ring as she came up the deck steps with the last three bags. She had left the screen door propped partially open, and she shouldered her way in. Kelly was standing in the kitchen with the phone in her hand. She didn’t look up as she held out the receiver. “It’s Dad.”

  Hurt by the slight, Maggie set the groceries on the counter. The very last thing she wanted right now was to talk to Bruce. “Tell him I’ll call him back.”

  Kelly dropped the receiver on the counter, then walked away. “Tell him yourself.”

  Maggie closed her eyes, wishing right then that she could find a deep hole for herself. She toyed with the idea of just ignoring him until he got tired and hung up, but she knew he’d call back. Heaving a sigh, she picked up the receiver. She might have to talk to him, but she didn’t have to be nice about it.

  She opened the cupboard door and started putting away groceries. “What do you want?”

  There was a brief silence, as if her sharpness had caught him off guard. “I was wondering if you got my letters.”

  Maggie jammed a box of salt into the cupboard. “Yes. I got them.”

  “I felt I owed you an explanation.”

  Maggie stuffed three jars of spices beside the salt. “You gave me an explanation, Bruce,” she said, feeling uncharitable. “It had something to do with me being an albatross.”

  There was a hesitation, then he spoke again, a gruff tone in his voice. “I meant in the letters, Margaret.”

  Suddenly close to tears and not even sure why, Maggie started yanking items out of the bag and stacking them on the counter. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t read them.” She emptied the bag and threw it on the table. “So if that’s all—”

  “Margaret! Wait!” Then the tone of his voice changed. “Please.”

  Maggie leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes, rubbing at the dull ache between her eyes. If she cried one more tear, she was going to evaporate. Taking a deep, shaky breath, her tone unbearably weary, she asked, “What do you want, Bruce?”

  It was three full seconds before he answered, and his voice was very quiet when he did. “I was very unfair to you, Margaret.” There was another long pause, then he continued, “I never thought it would bother me if I saw you with another man, but it was—was quite unsettling, and I reacted badly. And I suppose that was the first time I had some idea of how you must have felt when I married Jennifer. And whether you know it or not, I’ve always felt very guilty about that.” Maggie heard him try to clear his throat, and for some reason her own got unbearably tight, and she rubbed the ache again.

  “Maybe that’s why I’ve been so—so intense with Shawn and the girls—because I was trying to compensate. But the reason doesn’t matter.” He took an unsteady breath, then continued, “But my worst crime is what I’ve done to you. You were an excellent mother and you were a good wife, and I said some things on Saturday that weren’t even remotely true. You were never an embarrassment, Margaret. And you were never an albatross.”

  Maggie wiped away the tears that had slipped out, a huge wad of emotion clogging her chest. She wondered if he had any idea what it meant to her to hear that.

  “After I thought it over, I realized I was being…I don’t know. Sour grapes, maybe. I suppose I was a little jealous— which is rather silly, considering the circumstances. But I’ve really thought about it the past few days, and I sincerely want you to be happy, Margaret. And I’m going to try very hard to be less managing with the kids. You’ve always been more than fair with me. It’s time I was equally fair with you.”

  Maggie looked up at the ceiling, trying to will away the tears, will away an ache in her chest the size of Kansas. It was as if he had removed an old, painful weight from her shoulders, and she experienced a rush of real gratitude toward the father of her children. She blinked several times, then swallowed hard. “I’m glad you called,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice from breaking. “I don’t want bad feelings between us. I really don’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  Maggie managed a shaky laugh. “This isn’t bad crying, Bruce. This is good crying.”

  There was another brief pause, then he spoke again. “I hope you’ll read the letters, Margaret. They were written with the very best of intentions.”

  The cramp finally let go in her throat, and her voice was steady when she answered, “I will. I promise.”

  “Could you put Kelly Lynn back on? I wanted to speak to you before I spoke to her.”

  “Just hang on.” Maggie was about to lay the phone down, then she put it back to her ear. “Bruce?”

  “Yes?”

  She looked at the ceiling, her eyes filling up again. “Take care.”

  His voice was very gruff when he responded, “You, too, Margaret. Take very good care.”

  Maggie lay the receiver down, then went to the landing and called for Kelly to pick up the phone downstairs. She went back and lifted up the receiver, listening until she heard her daughter’s voice. Then she hung up the phone, turned and went into bathroom, locking herself in. This time it wasn’t so much an emotional purge, it was more of an emotional commemoration.

  Things were a little easier after Bruce’s phone call. Not much, but a little. They were also a little ea
sier with Kelly. She didn’t disclose what her father had said, and she still didn’t speak to Maggie unless she had to. But she was less hostile, more thoughtful—as if she was working through something in her mind.

  For Maggie, it was as if Bruce’s call had unlocked some old, emotional shackles. And she finally realized that Tony was right. She was like a mouse caught in a maze, always playing the game, always doing what was expected of her. More than anything she wanted to climb over that wall, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t even know if she could. Because Tony was right about that, too: it boiled down to her own lack of self-esteem. She was a good employee, and she had tried her best to be a good daughter, wife, mother. But she didn’t know who or what she was. And that was a hard thing to deal with, knowing she had lost Tony because she was afraid to climb over the wall, afraid to say to hell with the game and be her own person.

  She got through Saturday and most of Sunday, but by Sunday evening she was feeling pretty damned lonely.

  She’d been working in her home office, but by nine o’clock she’d developed a blinding headache, and she went into the kitchen to get some over-the-counter medication she kept in the cupboard with her vitamin pills. Kelly had gone to a movie, and the house was uncommonly quiet. Far too quiet. With the two pills in her hand, she got a clean glass out of the dishwasher, then turned on the tap, holding her finger under it while waiting for it to get cold. Without thinking, she glanced out the window, and she got such a numbing shock that it drained the blood out of her face.

  There was a moving truck backed up at right angles to the stairs, and Spider, one of Tony’s brothers, a brother-in-law and two other men were lugging Tony’s furniture down the stairs and loading it into the back of the truck.

  The reality nearly brought her to her knees. He was really leaving—not just for six weeks, but for good.

  If there was ever an ultimate devastation, this was it. The shock sent a crazy kind of panic through her, stripping away any lingering hope she might have had, and she turned blindly away from the window, litanies of denial racing around in her head. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t.