by EJ Valson
Joe is silent. There is a tear falling down his cheek. He moves in to hug me, his body slumps into my embrace. He is innocently childlike. “I’m sorry you don’t love me like that,” he strains. “What can I do?” he begs as he pulls back to face me.
I shake my head as I look to the floor. I can’t bear to look at his sad eyes. “Joe, it isn’t you, it isn’t anything about you,” I respond through my tears. I look up and meet his eyes again.
“You deserve better than what I can give you and I won’t let you settle for less. I know that you feel horrible, and mad, and sad, but please believe that I do not want to hurt you. I want to part the right way. I want us to raise our daughter together, to be friends, to help her grow up and be happy. I don’t want us to fight. I want us to be kind to each other. I want us to be a family, even if we are living in different houses -- with different people,” I explain.
I can see that he is overwhelmed. I have said too much and he can’t absorb it fast enough, so I decide to go sit on the bed and give him some space. After a few minutes he prepares to speak. “So, do you want me to leave?” he sadly asks.
“No, of course not,” I say. “We can do this slowly. We don’t have to rush it. And for Olivia’s sake, I want to be careful in how we handle the situation, maybe do it in steps,” I suggest.
I’m drained from this conversation. Everything is catching up with me all at once. The trade show, the late angry night before, my conversation with Astrid and finally this. Now that I have done it, there is no going back. My safe place has been altered. I am now floating again in this life with uncertainty surrounding me. The one constant I had has now been broken apart. I can only pray that I’m doing the right thing.
Joe can tell I’m exhausted, as I am now lying curled up on the bed. He sits down next to me. I adjust my position as the bed tilts underneath me from his weight. “OK,” he agrees. Then he lightly rubs my back, gets up and walks out of the room.
A few minutes later he announces from the living room that he is going to get Olivia. I let down when I hear his truck start outside. I’m so tired from the emotional battle inside my body. I don’t know where to go from here.
I have dismantled my family, and set myself up for solitude. I am now more afraid of the unknown than ever. To top it all off, the one person who I would run to for comfort in my other life is oblivious to the fact that I need him.
CHAPTER 54
Joe and I decide it is best to start the process of separating slowly. I know he needs that as much as Olivia does. In fear of pushing him too far, I go along with it. The first time we separated, I was hasty to start my new life and it was too much for him. I want to go at a pace that is comfortable for him, yet sets the boundaries of where our marriage stops and our new friendship starts.
I tell Olivia that I am moving in to the guest room because daddy snores. The first few nights she asks me when Daddy will stop snoring. I tell her I don’t know. She stops being inquisitive after a week and accepts the guest room as Mommy’s new sleeping quarters.
We keep our nightly routine the same. It is easy, considering there wasn’t really anything romantic between us. The only difference is dropping the pet names and the occasional kiss “hello” or “goodbye.” That comes easier for me to let go of then it does for Joe. We had one awkward moment in front of Olivia when he came home and routinely went to kiss me. I pulled back. Olivia thought it was a game and laughed at me. Joe caught himself and walked away embarrassed.
Work is my salvation. I am able to walk in and leave my troubles at the door. It’s like its own ecosystem there. I can actually breathe. Even though Michael is still technically an acquaintance, I have relaxed more around him and he occasionally jokes with and teases me. This is a good sign, as I know it means he feels comfortable.
However, my mood is slightly deflated when I find out that he and some of his housemates are having a party. I can only assume that girls will be there. I forget sometimes that he is only twenty-two and in his mind I’m probably just some late twenty-something woman with a husband and a kid at home.
I decide to tell Stacy that Joe and I have split up over lunch one afternoon. “Are you OK?” she asks, with a very concerned look.
“Yes. Really, it was bound to happen sooner or later,” I reply matter-of-factly.
“Well, in truth you reminded me of my mom and her ex-husband,” she says nonchalantly. “I mean, it’s obvious you care about each other, but you don’t talk about him much and you two aren’t really joined at the hip. You seem like buddies more than husband and wife.”
I ponder her comment for a minute. She is right. Joe and I rarely go out together and I don’t talk about him much. We are very separate in our lives. From what I recall of my life with Michael, we do everything together. We work together, AND we live together. It is not an easy feat at times, but we have made it work -- all the while making time to spend alone together on date nights or when we can break away for a long weekend without the kids. And why was I feeling like our marriage was lacking something before I arrived in this life? I’m ungrateful.
“You OK? I hope I didn’t upset you,” Stacy says apologetically.
I quickly shake my head. “Of course not. You are absolutely right. Which is how I know that I made the right decision,” I reassure her, and myself.
Because I know that this will eventually get around the office, and naturally people will handle me with kid gloves, I decide to share the news with Steve. I tell him in a well-rehearsed speech about my new situation, which is then followed by, “I’m sorry to hear that. Take some time off if you need it,” -- the standard stuff people say in these circumstances.
By the end of the week, the entire department knows, including Michael, as well as a few other members of the company. I am not handling this in the way most people going through a divorce would. I almost feel as if I’m faking it, or going through the motions of being upset. I am not purposefully lying, I’m not thrilled about the obstacles I will be facing as I embark on this next step, but I know it is necessary. So I am going through this situation as I think I should. Calm, focused and ready for something new.
I have hope that John will contact Astrid and me with answers soon, but the lack of communication and little information has me in doubt. All I know is that I am me...well...a version of me. I have my family, my friends, my daughter and Michael…for now.
CHAPTER 55
It’s been one month since Joe and I officially split. We still sleep in separate rooms and continue to behave as close to normal as we can. Joe has started hanging out at his friends’ more after work and coming home right before Olivia goes to bed. This upsets me a little, because she misses him, but I know why he is doing it. It is his way of learning to live without this life. I excuse his neglect and tell Olivia Daddy needs some time with his friends, just like she gets at school.
I finally decide to tell my parents. They are sad and suggest that we do everything possible to save our marriage. I’m strong-headed when necessary, so when I make it clear that there is no hope they give up and say they support us in whatever way we need. Joe’s parents are just as upset, of course – they were even a little cold to me at our last encounter, but that’s to be expected. They are protective of their son.
Joe is cordial towards me, but I think he is still pained by my decision. It wasn’t his. It was forced on him. I just hope he will appreciate it later. I also hope that he still finds his way to Rachel.
Stacy decides it’s time for me to get out of what she calls my “slump”, even though I think I’m doing just fine. She thinks it would be fun to go out for a girl’s night at some of the local pubs downtown. Joe is heading to Portland for a friend’s bachelor party anyway, so I don’t have to worry about making him feel bad if I leave and he is home alone for the night. I concede and make plans for Olivia to go to my parents’.
I pull myself together after a quick cat nap. I start by putting on some fun music that I haven’t listened
to in...well...since the times that I remember Stacy and me going out in my other life. I take my time getting ready. I shower, shave and do my hair and makeup until I’m satisfied. I also manage to pick out a nice-fitting pair of jeans, a dressy black top and a pair of wedge heels. I take a long look in the mirror. I am standing here before myself, almost unrecognizable in some ways. I look healthy and fit. I feel good in my skin for the first time in a long time. Yet even though I am younger in appearance, I feel older than ever. Before my emotions get the chance to take over and dampen my mood, I smile at myself and mentally commit to having a good time.
Stacy picks me up at 7:00 p.m. and we head straight to our favorite pub and restaurant downtown. The April evenings are becoming warmer and the nights are longer, so the downtown streets are busy with a mixture of college students and older upper class folk. The setting sun graces this small town with a tender warm light that makes twilight almost mystical. For a moment, I can’t tell what year it is -- this season feels the same in any year. Regardless, it is still my home and that comforts me.
As we enter, the restaurant overflows with life and music. We are quickly seated at a table for two. We order two martinis and a plate of fries until we decide what we want for dinner. We aren’t in any rush and we are having a good time people watching and laughing at stupid things, like we always do. It is in these moments with Stacy that I feel sane. I’m reminded of who I am at my core and grateful that I have her to keep me grounded. Tonight I will not think about tomorrow. I will not think about Joe and Olivia and what will happen next. I will live in the moment with my friend.
After the drinks kick in, we get a little playful with the waiter. Stacy is a natural born flirt and her talent amuses me. After we finish our long dinner, we decide to move on to a few more places.
“Oh, let’s go to Karaoke!” she exclaims.
“Hell no! I am not singing,” I laugh back at her.
“No, we will just go watch,” she assures me.
We pay our bill and exit towards the waterfront to the next bar. We aren’t drunk by any means, but our heels teeter on the cobblestone, so we link arms and lean on each other for stability. I feel a wash of what I now refer to as the “Deja vu daze” come over me for a moment when we pass another pub. I quickly recall a moment when I danced there with Michael on an empty dance floor while the group we were with was ordering drinks. We were in another area where no one could see us. And that was the point when we stole the moment for a chance to be close.
“Hellooooo,” Stacy says to get my attention.
“Wow, sorry,” I say, recovering from my memory. “I got side tracked,” I explain, with a smile on my face.
We make our way into the next pub, which is full of college-aged people. Stacy leads us to the bar, since she is taller and has no problem maneuvering through the sea of people. For a moment I feel out of place, but then realize that in my appearance I am still in my twenties, so I will blend in just fine.
Instead of a Karaoke machine, an Irish style rock band is playing on the small corner stage. They sound familiar, and I get a quick flash that I have seen them before. The atmosphere is upbeat and lively and the energy caters to having a good time. Stacy turns away from the bar and hands me a pint of beer. God love her for charming her way to getting served quickly.
She manages to find a small table near the entrance. I sit down and watch the band prepare for their next song. Stacy is in the middle of telling me that she thinks the bartender is cute, which I know will make for some entertainment later when she will flirt with him. People are coming in and out from the door behind me. It’s not the best seat in the house, but at least the draft from the night offers a breeze to cool the crowded bar. Stacy is still in mid-sentence when she notices something behind me that breaks her concentration. “Oh hey!” she shouts and starts waving to someone behind me.
Before I get a chance to look, Michael is standing at the side of our table with Bjorn. He looks charming with his fresh, edgy haircut. He says hello to me and then converses with Stacy about the band. I try not to stare, but his t-shirt has caught my attention. “Titanic Swim Team, 1912,” it reads. I laugh out loud, and then quickly get thrown into a scene from the past. It was shortly after he arrived here the first time. Stacy and I wanted to take him and Bjorn out to show them some of the local nightlife, so one night after work we met up for drinks at a pub on campus. That night was much different than tonight. We barely knew each other and he was still adjusting to his new environment. He couldn’t find a beer that he liked and we went through several until he found something suitable. I thought that he was picky. I wasn’t wrong. He can be, but when he finds something he likes, he sticks with it.
I shake off the daze. “I’m going to get another beer,” I say rising from the table. “Do you guys want something?” I ask the three of them. Bjorn, Stacy and Michael nod. “OK, a few pale ales, alright?” I ask. They nod and agree in unison.
I move my chair and prepare to make my way to the bar when Michael suddenly appears at my side. “Hey, I came to help you. It’s a lot of beers to carry on your own,” he says politely. I smile and blush a little.
“OK, great, thanks,” I reply.
We make our way to the bar and are forced to wait while the bartenders help other customers. I lean against the bar, fidgeting with my debit card. I can feel the heat from Michael standing close to me. He is looking around assessing the bar, the people, the band. I have seen him do this before. He isn’t judging, just taking in his surroundings. I smile a bit at the recognition of his habit.
I can’t help but stare at him. I am so sure that this is my future husband right in front of me. Younger, more naive and unaware of the situations that will occur and shape him into one of the best men I have ever known -- the kind of guy that my friends and family always wanted for me. And I’m sure that some days I wondered why he ever chose me and how I got so lucky.
I’m quickly embarrassed when Michael turns back to face the bar and catches me staring. “I like your shirt,” I recover.
He looks down and grins at the ironic shirt. “Thanks,” he says.
Just in time the bartender serves us and breaks the uncomfortable moment. Michael waves off my debit card when it’s time to pay and hands the bartender cash. He then takes two beers and leads me through the crowd while I do my best not to run into someone or spill the beers I’m carrying.
We make it back to our table, which now has four chairs placed around it so we can all sit together. Bjorn and Stacy are sitting close so they can talk over the noise. This leaves Michael and me sitting with our knees almost touching.
Being the social person that he is, Michael starts to make small talk with me about the band, the bar, and the kind of music he likes. I nod and smile and respond accordingly. All I really want to do is listen to his voice, feel his presence. It takes everything in me to not reach out and hold his hand. He has no idea that this girl sitting right next to him is fighting every natural instinct not to grab him, kiss him and hold him as tight as she can. I’m so in love with him. Every part of him, good and bad, he is mine.
I know in my soul, I know to my core, and I have no doubt that this is the person I was put on this earth to love. Some say that you only find true love once. That may be true, but in my case I have been blessed enough to meet my one true love twice.
CHAPTER 56
The clock reads 9:00 a.m. when I wake up smiling on this sunny Sunday morning. I feel well rested, even after a late night of drinking. I’m in a flitter of a glow.
Images from the night before fill my mind -- flashes of laughter, drinking beer, talking and Michael. It was easier to be around him as the night progressed. After realizing that even though I know Michael and I know of our life together and he doesn’t, there is a silver lining.
I have a chance to make more memories with him -- even if they may not “count” later on if I get back to our life together, wherever it may be. I decide it’s best to let go and enjoy
a chance to be with younger Michael again. We don’t have to talk about work, or kids, or bills, or any of the other responsibilities that consume our marriage. Without pretending, we can just be twenty-two and twenty-six. Young, free and without regret.
My cell phone rings from the bedside, jolting me out of my nostalgia. I see the number on the screen and answer quickly. “Hi, Astrid!” I say enthusiastically.
She begins with a laugh, “Well, morning Sunshine. I take it you had a nice weekend?” She states with a hint of playfulness. I smile because I know she senses it. I still find it funny how she can’t see much of my future but she gets glimpses of what I have been up to in the immediate past.