Learning Lessons: A Losing His Wife Novel

by KT Morrison

  “A panic attack?”

  “—me, calmed me down and then I was okay again. I didn't feel like I was dying anymore.”

  He was so relieved. God, he was so relieved.

  He said, “Baby, is it the stress? Is it stress?”

  “Pete, I can't do this anymore.”

  “I know, Jess, I can't do it either. We have to stop.”

  “No, Pete.”

  “I know—”

  “No, I can't do this anymore. Us.”

  He let her go, his fingertips brushing her soft cotton back as his head came up and struggled to focus on her big icy baby blues.

  “Us?”

  “I just can't do it, Pete.” Her face scrunched up tight, went beet red, her mouth screwed up and she started to cry.

  “Don’t, Jess. Don't cry. Sweetheart, don't stress.”

  “Pete, you have to go.”

  “Go? Hold on, Jess.” It was all catching up with him. He squeezed her shoulders. Wait. She was done with him? She couldn't do us anymore? Come to see her today to set this all straight. Come to see her today to claim her as his own. Now she was telling him she wasn't going to be his.

  “Pete, don't make this hard...you know...knew...” She broke down sobbing into her clenched fists.

  He put his arms around her again and she crumpled against him. She murmured into his chest.

  “What?”

  “I want to divorce,” she cried.

  “Jess...no.”

  He stepped back from the bed and watched her crying, her shoulders heaving and she sobbed into her Kleenex.

  “Jess.”

  But she didn't look to him. Her pretty hair fell forward and she hid from him.

  “No...Jess?”

  He took another step back. His hands clenched at the curtain behind him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe at all. His vision was dim and narrow. He clawed at his tie; he had to get out of there, had to get away, get some air. He thrashed and thrashed at the curtain, trying to find a way out, couldn't get it, stumbled forward through it. It slid up over his head, and he went on clumsily through the centre of the room, his hand grabbing at the hanging cotton walls for support. God no, God no. He staggered out into light of the hall, stopped before the nurses. The tall nurse looked up through her eyebrows at him and smiled. “Told you,” she said.

  “Dad?”

  Petey and Andy were sitting on an upholstered bench up against the wall to his left. Andy sat on Tyler's lap.

  He nodded to them. His face felt tense—his breath came to him now but it was in a ragged stutter. Tyler watched him, gauged him. He wouldn’t show Tyler that he won. Really won. Took everything he had from him. Tyler wouldn't see him cry today. Pete wouldn't let him.

  He turned on his heels and marched down the hall headed for his Buick.

  Andy said, “Where are you going, Daddy?”

  “Dad? Where are you going?” Petey called after him.

  “You hang in there, kiddos.” He choked, stumbled his way out to the car sitting in the ambulance bay. His hand shook like mad trying to get the key in the ignition. He slipped it in and let his head fall forward to rest against the wheel. He turned the key, started it. The speakers vibrated, the 105.5 traffic report exploded in his ears, scared the fuck out of him and he jumped back. His open palm slammed into the stereo control. Pain shot up into his shoulder, ripped at his palm. The radio got louder. He screamed, Fuck! and sat back, brought his Hush Puppy up and slammed his heel into the radio over and over until the knobs flew off, the display cracked and then went black, and splinters of plastic pinged all around the cabin and onto his suit.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  When he was done and it was quiet and all he could hear was his own terrified breaths he put the car into drive and crept to the back of the parking lot. He parked under the long jagged branches of an old maple tree. Must have been a wonderful shady spot in the hot summer back when his life made sense. He climbed into the backseat and curled up on the bench, hugged his knees and cried as hard as he liked because no one could see him.

  Part X

  Live Free

  36

  Baby Cedars

  Thursday, February 9th

  Pete was awake at 4:45. Been awake for a while. Just staring at the ceiling.

  He sat up, turned the alarm off before it would sound in a few minutes. He rolled his head around on his neck, stretched a bit, then slumped and looked around the cold, empty room. Big, fat snowflakes whisked past the window going sideways, white blobs against a grim, gunmetal sky.

  He growled quietly as he got up, scared the thoughts away as they came to get him. The hurt, the pain, the loss; they did him no good. He got out of his pyjamas, got on some tights, some running shorts, a fleece and a shell. Pulled a warm beanie over his balding head, grabbed his running shoes and softly went out into the hall, headed to the kitchen in his socks.

  He smelled coffee coming down the steps. Patty was up already. He came into her kitchen quietly. She had a robe on, standing over the sink with her back to the room watching the snow out the window. The kitchen was dark, just the under-cabinet lights on.

  “Good morning,” he whispered to her, didn’t want to startle her.

  She turned quickly, wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. She’d been crying. “Oh! Good morning, Petey.”

  He pretended he didn’t notice her tears, said, “You’re up early.”

  She sniffed, wiped an eye with one finger, said, “You are too. Going for a run?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I just can’t sleep. Come here,” she said and she held her arms out to him.

  Patty was a tough cookie. She was protective of her two brothers when they were growing up. He relied on her far more than he’d relied on his brother. She’d fought some of his battles for him. He hated to see her like this. She was suffering knowing his hurt, knowing there was nothing she could do about it.

  She hugged him. Held him tight. He closed his eyes and felt her sleep-warm body. He was desperate for some human contact, to feel someone’s love.

  “Thanks, Patty.”

  “You’re welcome, kid,” she rubbed his back, then let him go.

  “Okay,” she said, wiped at her eyes again, another fresh sniffle. “Big weekend here. I’ll do the groceries tonight on my way home. God, those boys, we’re going to have a great time. Russ is at work on Saturday, but Sunday we’ll hit Great Wolf Lodge. Tonight we’ll go to the movies. I’m going to spoil them rotten...”

  Pete hung his head. “Thanks, Patty. Not the Water Park though, okay? Can we do something else?”

  “Whatever you want, Petey.”

  It had been one month without her. One month without the love of his life. She was with that other man. Playing house. In his house. With his kids. Her happy face didn’t swell his heart anymore. Now her happy face was part of his pain, part of his black, ashy heart. There was a time when her joy was his joy. But now, living on the other side of town, excised from her life, her joy was a deadly dagger.

  He got the boys on the weekends. She was kind about that. No divorce yet, no lawyers, just a separation. There was hope, right? But this weekend was her trip away. Her five days in Florida with her new mate. It hurt so bad—but, hey, five days with his boys.

  “What’s wrong?” he said to Patty. She’d got sullen, leaning now on the sink, her arms folded, looking at the floor, boring holes in it with her eyes. Her brow was furrowed.

  “Pete, I swear I’m going to smash that pretty face of hers to a goddamn pulp.”

  “Don’t, Patty. I love her.”

  She mumbled, “Going to leave you with the kids while she runs off on a vacation with that big, dumb piece of shit.”

  “Patty—I’d take my kids any time for any reason.”

  “Pete, I know—doesn’t it bother you that she’s doing this? Doesn’t it make you mad?”

  He winced. Pinched his nose, squinted, kept the tears at bay. It’d be nice if he coul
d get away with one day where he didn’t cry. Could be today, if he could just keep it together here.

  “Patty, please...I’m barely holding on.”

  Patty came to him, she put her arms around her little brother and she held him again. “I’m sorry, Petey. I’ll shut up. I’ll stop. I guess I got all the rage in the family. You were left with all the kindness.” She kissed his cheek.

  “You’re plenty kind, Patty.”

  She’d let him move in here. Not let him. Told him. Made him. He wasn’t going to be a burden though. He had three apartments to visit next week. Big step, big painful step, but he couldn’t inject his sadness into his poor sister’s life. He couldn’t tell her yet. She’d be mad he was looking for his own place.

  “How long you gonna be?”

  “Maybe an hour.”

  “We’ll have breakfast?”

  “Can’t wait, Patty.”

  He put on his shoes and his gloves, headed out into the cold and the dark and the sideways snow that stung his face. He ran out of Patty’s subdivision, headed across town.

  He circled his old neighbourhood, boxed around it. Down Springlawn, over Benson Boulevard, up Watson, then a bit of a jog near the highway out by the Dunkin’ Donuts. Then a straight line across town back to Patty and Russ.

  He’d boxed around it, afraid of it, wouldn’t enter. But he was looking for a weakness in the fence, like a zoo animal, except he was looking for a way to get in there.

  He ran hard and fast, a slower pace than when he was younger, but he got that heart pumping until it hurt, until his lungs gasped and heaved and his throat burned like oxygen was jet fuel. The pain, for a while at least, pushed it all away...

  Jess had booked tomorrow off. Then Monday was a Professional Development day and she also took Tuesday for herself. That gave them five days together. Out of the house, away, just time for the two of them. Jess and Tyler. She absolutely couldn’t wait. She ached for this. Ached to be away from it all.

  Right now though she was still in snowy, cold, February in Ohio. Dayton, to be exact—at the Boonshoft Museum of Discovery, three Jaden Van classes on a field trip, Sara and Carol there as well as about ninety kids. Most of them were watching the universe played out for them on a round screen in The Dome, the Space Theatre.

  Jess sat next to Sara, across from the theatre in the Hall of the Universe, on a bright red velvet bench under a six-by-six image of the Milky Way; an arrow pointed above them, it said, You Are Here. They were watching the kids across the carpeted hall, most of them transfixed by the scale of what they were watching on the screen. Maybe thirty in there with Carol, the rest were milling about, running from station to station, pressing every button on the interactive displays to see what would happen. Jess and Sara taking a break, standing guard to make sure no one slipped out and ended up away from the group, getting lost in Science Central. Bunch of other, bigger kids in there from another school.

  Sara said, “Scale of one to ten, how excited are you to go away?”

  Jess closed her eyes, said, “Ten plus. Can’t wait. Flight’s at eleven.”

  “What if we don’t get back in time?”

  “Don’t even.”

  “What if there’s a traffic jam and we don’t make it back to Columbus until—”

  “Stop, stop, stop. I swear I’d just drive there. I need to get away.”

  “I know, Jess,” Sara pursed her lips and looked at her friend.

  Jess said, “I need to so bad.”

  “I’m looking forward to my house guest.”

  “Thanks, Sara, Pete’s sister doesn’t like dogs in the house. I could send him to the kennel but last time I don’t think they kept up with his special food. When he came back to us his coat was terrible, he had the worse...you know...poops. I worry about him.”

  “Jess, I’m looking forward to it.”

  “You sure? He can be a handful.”

  “I’m sure. I had a dog growing up. I’ll take him to the Dog Park. Hit on some guys.”

  “Aw. He’d like that. The Park part...I’ll drop him off right after work.”

  “I can come pick him up.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll bring him over.”

  Carol came out of the dome, a curt, clipped walk, straight to Sara, kneeled to her side. She said, “When you’re done your break, let’s get them lined up along this wall here. Three rows. We’ll do a head count, then move on to the wildlife.”

  Jess leaned forward to hear what she was saying better, to include herself in the plans. Carol kept talking, looking straight ahead at the kids in the theatre, starting to get up and move around. The film had ended and the side screens lit up now with some dazzling infographics about the Sun.

  “And here,” she said, “this is the petition to reinstate the after-school music programs. Here’s a pen. Get her to do it too,” she said, thumbing over to Jess, then she rose and went back into the dark of the theatre.

  Sara looked to Jess, her eyes wide, she laughed, “Uh-oh, somebody’s a little jealous.”

  “Jealous of what?”

  Sara winked at her.

  “Oh. No...I think she hates me now. Not jealous, just...she thinks I’m a terrible person. She won’t even look at me.”

  They all knew that she was living with Tyler. Probably all thought she was a terrible person. All the teachers knew that Pete was out of the house and that Tyler had moved in with her. Pretty Miss Teacher of the Year had shacked up with some stud kid who was ten years younger than her. Things had got a bit frosty around here. She knew they likely said a lot of nasty things about her behind her back.

  One thing she would never cop to, as ridiculous as denying it sometimes sounded, was being the one caught with Tyler that day at the school. The one who had his big cock between her breasts. Nope, that wasn’t Jess. Some other blonde girl. Story she told: She and Pete took him into their home to help and it was Platonic, then somewhere along the way she fell for him. Nobody listened. She knew they all thought it was her getting dirty in his office. She would never, ever admit it. They could waterboard her.

  Administratively, Tyler was in the high school’s past, and despite the rumours, she had never been called to bear on it. Tyler’s dismissal was long gone and they weren’t interested in getting to the bottom of the mystery of the slutty blonde girl. Probably most especially when that blonde girl might be one of the Department of Education’s shining stars.

  Still, the rumours remained.

  “Miss Mapplethorpe, when are we going to see the otters?” Kevin and his friend Simon from Sara’s class bounded up to her and he grabbed her wrist. The otters were the hands-down fan favourite. One of those constants you knew coming here with ninety kids; wear running shoes because there is a lot of walking, and save the otters to the end if you want to keep them all on their best behaviour.

  “They’re up next, Kevin, hold your horses,” she laughed. “Show me that smile,” she said.

  He did, smiled a toothy kid grin. He had a temporary tooth in, looked good, it would do the trick until his adult teeth came in.

  “Okay,” he laughed, he squeezed her arm and then ran off. At least her kids were still behind her.

  They were quiet a moment, then Sara said, “Is it nice, being with him? I don’t mean in a dirty way, I mean...maybe I mean in a dirty way. It must be something...”

  Jess didn’t know how to answer without being gross. She didn’t want to gush but she couldn’t wait to tell her at the same time. “It is...very nice.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yup.” She couldn’t stop a smile growing across her face.

  Sara scratched at her cheek, looking away, a smile spreading across her face now too.

  Jess said, “Your friend was right.”

  “About—”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  “I can’t even describe...”

  “Say no more.”

  “Pete was pretty small.”

  She cocked her head,
said, “Aw.”

  Jess looked out across the room at the kids out there. “Tyler’s was quite something to get used to.”

  Sara winced, shook her head, said, “Too much, too much.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Well, too much here,” she said, her face bright, drawing funny circles with her index fingers indicating this big educational space with all these children running around. “But over a bottle of wine? Then you can tell me whatever you want...”

  “Sounds good.”

  Sara got closer to her and she slipped an arm around her and hugged her.

  Jess hissed and flinched, “Careful, my side’s sore.”

  Tyler said, “I’m going to miss you, buddy.”

  “I’m...miss you too.” Little Andy’s eyes were wide and wet. Poor kid had been through an emotional wringer this month. It’s all your own fault, Jess.

  Tyler was down on his knees and he had those thick, strong arms around her little five-year-old. Poor Andy. He wasn’t going to be alone this weekend, he was going to be with his dad, but this was a lot to take. He’d lost his dad, only saw him on weekends this last while, now he was going to lose his mom. He had to be so confused. She’d try and explain it to him when he seemed troubled, she was sure Pete did the same when he had them. How does a little boy brain make sense of such a huge change? Fuck, Jess.

  Petey stood off to the side, waiting for his turn. He looked just as worried. Standing, on the verge of tears, his hands together in front of him, one foot over the other.

  Tyler held Andy in one arm, opened the other for Petey, invited him in. “Come here, Petey, come on.” He hugged Petey to him too, Petey’s little arms went around Tyler’s big neck. “It’s just a couple extra days, guys, you’re gonna have fun with your dad.”

  Petey said, “I know, you’re just so going so far away.”

  “We’re not that far, Petey,” he said to him. “Just an hour and a bit by plane.”

  “I don’t like planes.”

  “Aw, Petey,” he laughed, “we’re going to be fine.” He shook the two of them gently in his arms, trying to cheer them up.