The Real Thing

by Linda Rettstatt

“Of course. How about Tuesday at three?”

  “Next Tuesday. Sure, that’ll work. That is, unless I get this job I’m interviewing for.”

  “Understood. Call me if you need to make a change. Thank you, Mitch.”

  She hung up before he could ask if she had already called Jane. Their last conversation hadn’t left him feeling very hopeful. But he could run all of that by Rose when they met. He checked his watch and then returned to the waiting room. To wait.

  The interview left him feeling old and tired. It had been a complete waste of an otherwise good afternoon. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt as the elevator descended to the parking garage. Craig Remington had shaken his hand and smiled and said, “You should hear from us in about a week.” Yeah, right. He wouldn’t hold his breath.

  He took the long route back to his apartment, cruising slowly past the house. Jane’s car sat in the open garage. How many times had he told her to be sure to close the garage? Anyone could wander up the driveway, through the garage, and into the house via the kitchen. It would be too late before they knew it. He slowed, fighting the urge to back up and use the garage door opener that still hung from the visor to close the door. But that would do two things—scare the life of out of Jane when she heard the door closing on its own and remind her that he still had the electronic device. She would probably demand he turn it over. He kept driving.

  The following morning his cell phone blared at eight fifteen. He squinted at the screen, failing to recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Devereaux, this is Mr. Remington’s secretary at Quicksilver Advertising.”

  Mitch sat up in bed. “Yes?”

  “He wondered if you were available for a second interview this afternoon. He knows it’s short notice, but he has to go out of town this evening.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be there. What time?”

  “One thirty.”

  “Yes, thank you. One-thirty. I’ll be there.”

  His feet were on the floor now. A second interview. That had to be a good thing. Unless he found thirty other people crammed in that small waiting room for their second interviews, too.

  ~ * ~

  “Come on, Jane. It’ll be fun. Just us four girls for a weekend of outlet shopping and girl talk,” Stephanie pleaded. “Rob can stay at our place with Dave and the boys.”

  “I don’t know. I have this deadline. And the therapist called and wants to meet. I need time to get my thoughts in order.”

  “Have you heard from Mitch?”

  Jane shook her head. “Not since he dropped by a week ago. That didn’t end so well.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think I need to bother going to see the therapist. What’s the point? Mitch won’t really engage in therapy. He thinks it’s all a big joke.”

  “Is he going to be there?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. She would have said. It sounds like she just wants to know where I am with this.”

  “And where is that?”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I’m more scared than I’ve ever been. I think our marriage is over and neither Mitch nor I want to take the responsibility for shoveling the dirt over it.”

  “Sounds to me like it could be helpful for you talk to the therapist. Though I’m not ruling you and Mitch down for the count yet. I know for a fact that he’s miserable and just as confused as you are.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “I overhead him talking to Dave. He says he feels like an idiot and he can’t imagine what possessed him to walk out on his marriage.”

  Jane sighed. “Unfortunately, I can answer that question. It was my fault he left. I drove him out. I was the idiot, pretending to be someone else, forcing Mitch to play a role. I killed our marriage long before he left.”

  “It takes two to make or break a marriage. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “I did that exercise the therapist recommended. Even after all the crap Mitch threw around in that last session. I had to know what had been good about our marriage. I was supposed to list ten things. I came up with twenty-six.”

  “That’s a good thing, then, right?”

  “No. It’s awful, because now I just have a list of twenty-six things I’ve lost. Mitch is honest, faithful. We used to laugh so easily together. We got through some hard times and some major frights. We have great kids and we’re on the same page when it comes to parenting. I’ll never find that again.”

  ~ * ~

  Mitch couldn’t believe it. He got the job. He got the freakin’ job. He’d beat out an entire room full of hopeful twenty-somethings and he—Mitchell Devereaux—got the job. He wanted to shout, but yelling “Wahoo” in a crowded elevator wasn’t going to gain him any points with future fellow employees. He’d wait until he got to the car.

  His first stop was his brother’s office. Dave had a meeting out of the office and wasn’t available. He headed to his mother’s apartment. She was out for the day with a group of friends frequenting one of the local casinos. His good spirits were rapidly turning sour. He had great news and wanted to share it with someone. To celebrate. Even Rob didn’t answer his cell phone. Mitch glanced at his watch. Probably because he was still in class and Mitch had no intention of making the same mistake twice by pulling him out of school early.

  Mitch stopped at the liquor store and selected a moderately priced bottle of champagne. Then he headed to the only other person with whom he would want to celebrate his news.

  Daffodils were in full bloom in front of the house. Spring was making an early entrance. He smiled recalling how much Janie loved those little yellow flowers. How she’d lovingly tend to them and then cut them in bunches to bring them inside, placing bouquets on just about every table. She called them bunches of sunshine.

  He dug for his key, thought better of it and rang the bell. Janie stood in the open doorway, hair pulled up in a loose twist, her glasses perched on her nose giving her the appearance of an intellectual coed. She wore faded jeans and a loose-fitting long-sleeved tee shirt that said Will Write for Food on the front—a gift from Rob a couple of years earlier.

  “Mitch?”

  “Hi. Can I come in? I have some great news.”

  She glanced at the brown paper back in his hand. “I’m really busy. I have to get this draft done tonight.”

  “I’ll just take a few minutes. Please, Janie. It’s important.” He was groveling and he hated groveling. But it was important. To him.

  She stepped back from the door to allow him to enter. “What’s up?”

  He flashed a broad smile. “I got a job.”

  He thought he saw a flicker of interest in her eyes, but then she pressed her lips together, squelching any emotion. “Good for you.”

  “I thought you could join me in a celebratory drink.” He held up the champagne.

  “It’s only four-thirty.”

  “Just one drink. I want to tell you about this company. It’s new and one of the fastest rising companies in advertising.” He followed her to the kitchen, giving a rapid-fire account of the interview process, the youngsters he beat out for the job, and how she was the only person he wanted to share the news with. He failed to mention his stops at his brother’s office and his mother’s apartment first.

  Jane set two champagne flutes on the table. Her expression softened a bit as she lifted her filled glass. “Congratulations, Mitch.”

  He clinked his glass to hers. “Thanks. I feel really good about this. It could be the new start I’ve been hoping for.” Realizing how that might sound, he backtracked. “I mean, it’s a new career start and I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to share this news with.”

  She rolled the champagne flute between her palms. “I’ve just about finished my manuscript. My agent says there’s already an inquiry about a possible movie option.”

  He refilled their glasses. “Then here’s to you, Janie.”

  Mitch drained his glass an
d set it down on the counter. He looked at his wife, expecting to see joy in her eyes. The pain he saw took his breath away. “Janie?”

  She set down her half-empty glass. “I have to get back to work now. I’m happy for you, Mitch. I really am.” She paused in the doorway. “I may have to travel a bit when this book comes out. I assume Rob can stay with you?”

  He nodded. “Sure thing. Or I could come and stay with him here.” Her expression told him that was the wrong thing to suggest. “My place is fine.”

  Mitch stood by his SUV and looked at the house, the garage, the lawn he used to tend. And he felt his life slip through his fingers like grains of sand. This used to be my place. We used to celebrate one another’s victories. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen. Yes, he was. He expected Janie to fall right back into the way things used to be, to throw her arms around him and tell him she was proud of him. But she was no more proud of him than he was of himself. He got the job. Big deal. He’d lost the things that mattered most and he could never get those back. Even if it was too late, it was time to admit how much he wanted his marriage back. He wanted her—his Janie.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The therapist had the grace to look sheepish as she sat. “I’m sorry if you feel I tricked you, but I needed to get you both here at the same time.”

  “You could have simply asked,” Jane said. She did feel tricked. “Was this his idea?”

  Mitch’s head swiveled and he frowned. “Why is everything that happens that you don’t like have to be my idea?”

  Rose held up a hand. “Stop. This was my doing. I don’t feel we can get any further with counseling unless the two of you are in the same room, at least long enough to give me some clarity.”

  Jane pressed her lips together, letting go of the fight. “What do you need to know?”

  “I want to know where each of you stands right now in terms of your marriage, the separation. Your future.”

  “I’d like to know that, too,” Mitch mumbled.

  It was Jane’s turn to whirl at him. “Then perhaps you could answer the question.”

  “Why should I pay good money to come here to speak to you when you won’t respond to my calls? I’ve tried to reach you, Jane, but I honestly don’t know how any more. I came by with good news and you acted as if I was an imposition.”

  “You were at the moment. I was working.”

  Rose interjected, “What good news?”

  Mitch glanced at Jane, then to the therapist. “I got a new job. I start next week.”

  “Congratulations. I know not working was a stressor for you.”

  “I’m glad it means something to someone.” Mitch scowled at Jane.

  “Oh, please….” Jane muttered.

  “See, this is what happens. I try to do something positive and I get slammed for it. I went to the house to tell her about the job and she wouldn’t even discuss it with me. Maybe I should have made an appointment.”

  “How did you engage Jane in the past when the two of you had some conflict?” Rose asked.

  Mitch hesitated. “How? Uh…I don’t know. We just talked. But then we stopped talking.”

  “You stopped talking,” Jane said. “You stopped listening. You walked away from me.” Her voice cracked on the last words.

  Mitch shook his head. “We’ll never get past that, will we?” He looked back at Rose. “I don’t know how to get past that. I’ve apologized. I’ve explained. I can’t undo it. I just want this to be over.”

  “Just like my dad. Instead of fighting for me, for our family, he took the easy way out.”

  The room fell silent except for the ticking of the antique clock on the therapist’s credenza.

  “No, what would be easy would be to just get this over with.”

  “Mitch, are you saying you want a divorce?” Rose asked.

  Jane stared down at the tissue she had unraveled in her hands. She was afraid to look at either of them. Afraid of what she might see in Mitch’s eyes.

  He let out a heavy breath. “Jesus, Janie, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about your father. As for a divorce, I don’t….”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “I don’t know,” Mitch continued.

  Tears stung her eyes and she blinked.

  “Jane? What about you?” Rose asked, her voice steady and calm.

  She couldn’t speak, still couldn’t look up. She shook her head and tugged a few more tissues from the box on the table.

  Rose sat back in her chair and removed her glasses, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Normally, when clients discontinue therapy, I let it go, let it be their decision. But I could not let the two of you just walk away from your marriage yet. Can I tell you what I see as an outside observer?”

  Jane nodded.

  “I see two people who love one another. Present tense. You have a long history together, a life you’ve built over time. I’ve never seen two people work so hard to hang onto that shared life. Jane, you experienced some significant changes and successes in a very short time. Mitch, you struggled to accept the woman your wife had become. And then you both got lost. And the more you tried to find your way back to one another, the more lost you’ve become. It’s like taking a path through the woods and, when you come to a split in the trail, you find signposts that have shifted in position. You can’t be sure if the path you choose is the one that will take you where you want to go. So you pick one and hope for the best. And, sometimes, it’s the path that leads to the swamp instead of to the clearing.”

  Jane glanced sideways at Mitch, surprised he didn’t have a retort for Rose’s metaphor. He sat with his head lowered, hands folded in his lap. She cleared her throat. “I do feel lost,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like that nine-year-old again.” She glanced again at Mitch. “Not that I think of you as my father. It just hurts to have someone walk away, you know?”

  “Anything else?” Rose asked.

  “I feel scared. I’ve never felt so scared.”

  Rose waited a few beats and then asked, “Mitch, does any of this fit with your experience?”

  “I guess so. I mean, yes. I….” He turned and looked at Jane. “I’m sorry that I didn’t think how my leaving might remind you of your dad. It was an impulse and I never intended to stay away. I never wanted a divorce. I still don’t.”

  Jane bit into her lower lip and sniffled. “I don’t, either.”

  Rose leaned forward. “Thank you. I had to know where you both stand in order to know how to proceed with the counseling. I have to say, I’m surprised. I expected at least one of you to opt for a divorce, considering the way things have been going.”

  “Do you think we should consider that?” Mitch asked.

  “No. Just the opposite. I’ve counseled a lot of couples. As I said, I’ve rarely seen two people work so hard to keep the door open for their marriage, even when one or the other of you thought you were closing that door. Given that you wouldn’t both agree to joint sessions, I was beginning to question my own instincts. By the way, what happened to that first homework assignment?”

  Mitch grinned and reached into his pocket, extracting his wallet. He removed a tiny wrinkled slip of paper. “I have it right here.”

  “That’s your list of things good about our marriage? Written on a postage stamp?” Jane asked.

  “No, these are just cue words. The rest is written here.” He pointed to his head. “And here.” He shifted his hand to his heart. “I don’t need notes to tell me what’s good with our marriage.”

  Jane blinked back tears. “Maybe we can share our lists later. When we’re alone?”

  Smiling, Rose said, “Well, it doesn’t sound like the two of you need me any longer. What happens next to keep you on this path?”

  Mitch shrugged. “I guess it’s time I move back into the house.”

  Jane stared at him. “Really? You think it’s that simple?”

  “No, but…. I mean, it’s a start. Don’t we h
ave to be together to work this out?”

  “There are several definitions of together,” Rose interjected. “Jane, what do you think the next step should be?”

  “We’re not the same people we’ve been for twenty years. At least, I’m not the same person. This whole thing has changed me. If you ask me, we’ve both changed. We need to get to know one another again.”

  “Okay, how would you do that?” the therapist prodded.

  “I guess the same way we did it the first time. Spend time together. Go out on a date. Talk to one another. And listen.”

  Rose shifted her gaze to Mitch. “Mitch? What are you thinking?”

  “I can do that. We used to have a lot fun when we dated.” He grinned and glanced at Jane. “Didn’t we?”

  “We did, then.”

  “You say it like it won’t be fun now. If you think that, why bother?” he bristled.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, we can’t just go back. We’re not those two kids any more. But, you’re right. We did have fun and maybe we can again. I’d like to try.”

  His face softened and he reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I would, too.”

  After a moment of silence, Rose said, “You two just gave yourself homework.”

  “Is this what you clinical types call a breakthrough?”

  Rose smiled. “I would say so. Can we meet again in two weeks?”

  They agreed and scheduled the next appointment. Mitch walked with Jane to her car. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For giving us another chance. I was stupid and impulsive. But I never wanted a divorce.”

  She nodded. “I was selfish and self-absorbed. I let Janelle take over. And it was unfair of me to compare you to my father. He had so many issues. I never wanted a divorce, either.”

  “So, about that date.” He brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Are you free for dinner on Friday?”

  A flush warmed her neck and face. “I’m free.”

  “Six o’clock. I’ll pick you up.” He lowered his hand, took a step back, and then walked to his SUV.

  Jane stood there for a moment, enjoying the lingering feeling of his fingers against her cheek. For the first time in months, she felt hopeful. Her writing career had teetered on the brink of disaster because of missed deadlines, but nothing mattered beyond Friday night.