by Heidi Wicks
“We were unhappy, for sure. We tried for a really, really long time. But I don’t know…he’s my family. I feel so empty without him. It’s like a nightmare, you know? That feeling if you’re staying in a hotel and in a deep sleep, and then you wake up and not know where you are?”
“Yeah.” Jess feels it every day. “It’s grief.” Grief feels like her insides are rotting.
“I feel that every morning. In this new house that’s mine, supposedly. Except
it’s not mine. I want to go home, to Gower.” And she’s spilling, just spilling, hot salty water, again, and it’s dripping all down her cheeks, hot, trickling into her ears and off her earlobes onto her neck. This place again, she thinks, here I am again.
Jess’s arm is around her shoulders, hugging her in. “Just… maybe give yourself some time? Some time to be alone? A cut doesn’t heal if you keep picking at it.”
Cait knows Jess found that quote on Pinterest. Jess—all her Pinterest research. Sometimes she sends Cait inspirational quotes, in comforting font with a soft pink background, out of the blue. And on a good day, a day when she’s not thinking about Jake and feels halfway normal, one of those inspirational quotes pops onto Cait’s phone screen and she wants to hurl the phone against a wall. Today, it helps. It resonates.
“I don’t know.” She sniffs. Hauls a tissue out of her coat pocket. “I actually kind of feel like I need to do something drastic. Make-or-break kind of move.”
Here we go again, Jess worries. The drama. “Like what?” Her nerves tingle and vibrate, like guitar strings being plucked.
“I just…we have so much history. We have a child together, a whole life. I feel like I can’t move on until I give it all I have. Lay it all on the table, you know?”
“I guess so…but Cait, just…why don’t you just try to enjoy your house for a while? Make it your own? Give it some time? Time heals. I know it’s frustrating, the waiting, it’s so painful. And it sounds cliché, but it’s so true. Time does heal. This too shall pass. This is a new start for you…and you guys did give things a good try, you just said it yourself. Sometimes you have to know when it’s time to let something go gracefully.”
The more Jess tries to give her practical advice, while it does soothe her to an extent, the more Cait also just wants to pull out all the stops. Try anything and everything. “There’s still something electric between us. I have this feeling that it’s not over. I could seduce him.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. I could. I’ll put in the effort. Show him how much I love him.”
Jess imagines her guts and intestines being churned in a meat grinder. Cait isn’t listening to anything she’s saying, and it hurts. Nothing is resonating. “Well, I guess at the end of the day, you’ve got to find some way to make peace with all of this, Cait, and if you really think you have more to say, then I guess you have to say it. Just listen to yourself.” This is going to be a goddamned train wreck. Jess can feel it coming.
“I’m going to write him a letter.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. And then just hold onto it for a while. Decide whether you want to actually give it to him, or if it’s a way to just kind of…purge your feelings, you know?”
The vapor of infatuation for someone is senseless. In any normal, logical state of mind, subtracting love from the equation, Cait would feel like an utter fool writing a love letter to a man.
Letter writing as a tactic for purging feelings, eh? Pinterest. It’s obvious, Cait thinks. The hypocrisy, that Jess is still trying to let go of Matt, twenty freaking years after high school, makes the pink of Cait’s stoned glow turn red.
“And what about you?” Cait’s eyes are burning and she’s starting to squint. She digs into her bag for eye drops. “How are you?”
The meat grinder rotates in Jess’s guts. “I…don’t even know where to start, Cait. I’m not in a very good place right now. I feel really, really low.” A wash of orange drowns her body. She sees the colour, she feels orange, it’s a feeling of extreme discomfort and unease. Like a growth, poisoning her entire being, making her blood turn to rust.
A whoosh of sympathy drowns Cait’s annoyance. It’s a rogue wave of love. She has been slammed with rogue waves with Jake, for Maisie, she feels it for Jess right now. An intensity which plummets from rock-concert loud to mute, from rage to sublime empathy, in split seconds. She feels pins and needles in her fingers from the intense emotion. Sparkles, as Maisie calls the sensation. “Rub my sparkles out, Mommy.” Maisie is unnerved by it, and so is Cait. “Tell me what’s going on,” she lays a hand on Jess’s shoulder.
“It’s…I just feel so sad for Mom. I miss her so much. It hurts so bad. It’s such a surreal feeling, losing a parent.”
“I imagine I would just feel like I’d been moved to a bogus universe of some kind.”
“That’s just what it’s like. That nightmare sensation you described—that’s exactly it. I feel it every day.”
“I know. I do too.”
“It’s different though, Cait. Heartbreak is still grief, but it’s a different kind of grief than losing a parent.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“It’s ok.”
“How is it different? The two kinds of grief, do you think?”
“Well. I guess in some ways, heartbreak is worse, because the person is still alive, and you still see them, you can still be with them, therefore there’s that bit of hope for reconciliation that’s so hard to let go of.”
“Right…”
“But with death, and the death of a parent, it’s like a part of you is gone. And you know it’s not coming back, not in physical form anyway. Your roots have been torn up, in a way. You don’t know where your bearings have gone. There’s no foundation under your house anymore, the structure is just kind of floating in the air.”
Cait says nothing. She closes her eyes and feels the sensation: a skeleton, floating through space.
Next to her, Jess absorbs Cait’s silence. Sops up the energy that Cait is completely within herself, withdrawn from Jess’s world, imploded within her own.
Despite how different they are, Cait feels more connected to Jess than she ever has before.
Connection and disconnection. Yin and yang. Comedy and tragedy. Love and hate. The juxtaposition of life and the universe explodes within one movie theatre, within two minds.
the fog of rapture
2016
The fog of rapture is thick and clouds reason. Like gauze on a wound, it hides pain.The tornado-fights she and Jake had, the mean-spirited remarks he spat at her, which made her feel no more significant than a moldy cracker crumb lodged underneath the dishwasher— all miraculously blurred now, by the fog of rapture.
Cait believes, wholeheartedly, that once she bears her full soul to her husband the next phase of their life will begin. From the rubble will burst a beautiful, pure, new love. Stronger than ever.
She curls into her blue Ikea couch, now fully assembled, with her laptop, fueled with wine and weed. Pouring a fresh glass of red, she splashes her heart onto the blank document.
She summons conversations from almost twenty years ago with Melody Angel. They’d spend hours at Hava Java, drinking coffee, dissecting language and symbolism, ogling over the most beautiful love stories on film, like Harold and Maude. Lovers who beat the odds. Fought through the trenches for each other. Cait becomes a character from a movie as she types:
Dear Jake,
I have found my truth.
Our issues were deep and painful. We were miserable. We came to the point where the animosity and resentment made it so that we couldn’t see straight. We were living in a raging hornet’s nest. I had to leave before I got stung any more.
When we first split up, we could barely have a conversation. I was so full of anger. We have so much history. The time you drank too much of Dad’s scotch at his 60th birthday dinner. You smelled like Pine-Sol. You knocked over a clay ju
g from Greece, and it broke, and Dad’s cousin Bart drove a piece up his foot and Dad made him a bread poultice to draw the infection out, as if it was 1932. The time you accidentally knocked over a candle on the dinner table and then touched Aunt Debbie’s boob trying to snuff the flame. The first time you met my brother’s girlfriend and accidentally spit corn at her.
The first night we kissed, a pounding, sparkly current shocked up through my body, into yours, then back to mine. We zapped together, like some force of natural electricity.
In Nicaragua, we sat in natural volcanic hot springs. Steam floated around us. Ghosts of what was and what could be. We met a couple one day, with two small children. They told us they travelled all over the world. Their kids loved it, they were naturals. “We could do that,” you said afterwards. “We could take Maisie all over the world.” It was too little, too late for me then. I was too bitter, too wounded, too raw. I despised you and I resented you.
I know now, after time apart, after this threat, the weight of what I’m about to lose. I want you. When we talk now, it’s calm and mutually respectful. Before, we were in competition. Head to head. Now, we’re a team.
My heart is still with you. I don’t want to lose my family. You are my home. I miss you and me and Maisie, as a team.
You’re afraid we’ll fall into old patterns. That we’ll make each other miserable again, and that is valid. Maybe it’s too late. If that’s true, if you’re really done, I accept that. But your hands are the only ones I want grabbing my great ass. We could still take Maisie all over the world.
Love Always,
Cait
Criticism, contempt, defensiveness, stonewalling—The Four Horsemen of marriage apocalypse, according to research—were all present in their relationship. They’d turned toxic. They grew to bring out the worst in each other. The insults she slung back at him were equally as hateful and childish.
Now, in her battered and memory-soaked heart, it can all be overcome. A new sun is on the horizon.
She decides she’ll drop it in his mailbox the next day. No thinking on it. Carpe Diem, just like in Dead Poet’s Society.
shaved legs and coconut oil
2016
“Maisie is having trouble transitioning from one location to the next.” The tall, athletic, blonde, childless early childhood educator—Stacey—sits across the table from Cait and Jake—her legs-for-days folded over and around each other like a twist cone, her arms crossed over her chest. They’d been called in for a disciplinary meeting.
“So for example,” says Stacey, one of her eyebrows raised, “when we go to the gym, she objects. She doesn’t want to go, she screams, yells, throws herself on the floor and just…refuses to move.”
“Okay,” Cait folds her arms in response, “and how is the situation then handled?”
Jake just glares at the floor, grumpy, his arms also crossed, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
“See, the thing is, she’s in the path of the other children sometimes when she does this. She’s on the stairs when we’re coming down from the gym, she kicks and screams when someone tries to pick her up and it can hurt other children, they can fall down the stairs…is there…anything different going on at home?”
The lump in Cait’s throat throbs. Is this because Maisie has to live in two houses?
“Well, yes there is, but we’re very open towards each other with things regarding Maisie.” Cait’s arms fold tighter, clamped over her heart.
“I called this meeting to just make sure we’re all,” she makes a circular motion with her finger, “active within the same circle of communication.” She raises her hands and opens her arms, like Mother Teresa about to bless the poor, the broken. “And where we did have a sense you two had separated, we just wanted to confirm it and begin an open dialogue as to how we can make the best of the situation for Maisie. Really help her flourish, despite this unfortunate turn of events.”
Condescending bitch, Cait thinks, chewing the inside of her cheek through her thoughts.
“Well, Stacey,” Cait releases her arms and leans forward on her chair, “we’ve been separated for months now, and if anything, Maisie’s routine has become even more stable than before. Would you agree, Jake?”
Jake grumbles, “Yeah, I mean, we try to stay in touch, just about things relating to Maisie.”
“So you do touch base, regarding bedtime routines, the way you talk to her when she’s starting to act up, allowing her to choose between two options and helping her feel empowered—all of that?”
“Yes, Stacey,” Cait can’t control herself. “I believe that is what we just said.” Oh, yes, Stacey, child whisperer, avid reader of Today’s Parent. Yes, Stacey, we do, in fact, communicate and sometimes we still fuck even though we’re broken up, because we’re on very good terms, you see, Stacey.
Stacey adds, “Yes, but you know, it’s just…she could be starting to realize that her family is different than other families that she sees amongst her friends at school, or in books or on TV. I didn’t come from two houses, my parents stayed together, so I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out solutions to make the best for Maisie.”
“Oh well congratulations, your parents stayed together,” Cait mumbles, and Jake elbows her in the ribcage.
“I get down to her level,” Jake adds, “crouch down and look her right in the eyes and tell her what we’re going to do, and if she objects, sometimes I ask her if she wants to do it the easy way or the hard way. We’ve never done anything the hard way, let’s just say that.”
“A bit more of an authoritarian approach,” Cait murmurs.
“See,” says Stacey, “we’re having a bit of a communication breakdown here now, aren’t we? This is why it’s a good idea that we’re all speaking!”
“Yeah. So great.” Cait can’t control her eye roll. Is this woman a few sandwiches short of a picnic?
“Well, Jake,” Stacey leans forward towards Jake and looks him kindly in the eyes, “I do like that you’re getting down to her level, that’s so important. I would just suggest that you give her actual options. So, for example, if she won’t leave the playground, you could say something like, ‘We could leave the playground now, and go home and have a little treat, but if we don’t leave the playground now, we won’t have time for a treat. The longer it takes for you to listen to Daddy, the longer it will take to get your treat. So it’s up to you.”
Jake twinkles like a Lite-Brite. “That’s a great suggestion, actually. Thanks.”
“Yes, Stacey, that’s a wonderful suggestion, thank you so much.” Why doesn’t she just pin Jake to the desk right here and now and sit on his face?
“You know, as long as we all work together, even the smallest changes might make a difference.” She focuses more on one parent, and that parent is not Cait.
The tips of Cait’s ears scorch, and she feels a tug of defensiveness. “Maisie is really such a sweet kid, you know. I’ve seen so many times, hugging other kids, helping the littler ones, helping me in the kitchen.” There’s a swell of emotion in her chest. “She’s very affectionate and she’s a sweet, sweet girl.” Her eyes tingle, and her voice quivers. Jake puts his hand on her knee, which Stacey regards by pretending not to notice.
“Oh! Trust me,” Stacey jumps in, a puppy dancing for a treat, “I know that. She has so much potential and she’s very loving. She’s always coming up and giving me hugs.” There is a burning, tight, ulcer-like knot in Cait’s core.
Jake smiles. “Thanks for saying that. We appreciate it.”
Speak for yourself, thinks Cait.
It’s Cait’s day to pick up Maisie, but she has a meeting at work, so Jake offers to keep her for a while.
“So,” says Jake, as they walk out of the building, “I’ll pick Maisie up after work and drop her to you?”
“Yeah, I should be home by six. Thanks.” Their fingers touch, slightly, as they separate to go towards their respective vehicles. Legs freshly shave
d, skin supple with coconut oil, short black silk robe, and she just—oops!—won’t have time to change before Jake arrives with Maisie. How unfortunate.
Knock at the door.
“Oh hey! Sorry, I just wanted a quick shower.” Motion towards the robe and inappropriate appearance. Flip the still-damp, beach-tousled hair. “Come on in.”
“Looks like you’re getting settled here?” Jake ushers Maisie in, checking out the furniture.
“Mommy! Look what I got!” Maisie holds up a handful of dirty pebbles she’d picked up from the driveway.
“Whoa, what’s that? Baby bird poop?”
“Noooo, Mommmyyyy, that’s silly.” Maisie lumbers through the front porch, towards the kitchen, drops the pile of dirt and rocks on the table. Cait makes sure to walk with a wiggle, right in front of Jake. She can feel him looking at her ass.
“Okay, Maisie, don’t get too comfortable—I’m gonna pull on some clothes, and then we’re going to the park, and then we’re going to Poppy and Nanny’s for supper!” She throws some toys in the toy box and turns back to Jake, “Yeah, getting settled slowly. It’s weird, being in this new place…”
Maisie gasps with glee. Bolts towards Cait. “Mommy!” The silk robe slips away and reveals part of her breast and there’s a moment where he’s right back there, ready to pounce, she can see it in his eyes. “Run away from the monster! Quick!” Maisie looks at Jake, inciting him to run after them. Jake gathers himself then growls as expected. His hands turn into claws.
“Uh oh! Don’t worry, Maisie, I’ll protect you!” Cait shrieks and starts to prance through the house, away from Jake. “Yikes! The monster!”