Feeling better?
“I go back to the doctor in a week, and then he’ll do another ultrasound to see where things are at. Hopefully, the placenta has moved, and I’ll be able to get up a little bit.”
Paul took another bite, looking at his plate. He seemed confused by what I’d said, so I reviewed it, wondering if something was hard to understand. It was likely all confusing—this was upper level woman stuff, not his forte.
“Maybe you should come sleep in our room. I can keep my hands to myself.”
I smiled, loving the invitation back to our marital bed. “The question is, can I?”
But I did go back to our room, back to our bed, and I reveled in Paul’s presence against my back, his soft snores in my ear. He’d returned, and I was so happy about that, but something niggled and stretched somewhere in the corner of my mind, something that didn’t fit. I didn’t want to shine the beam of my searchlight into that corner. Couldn’t I have faith in being happy? Hadn’t I prayed for help?
Finally, I closed my eyes and let my breathing match his. It had been a very hard month; I needed to let go of the pessimism that things never worked out and enjoy the fact that Paul was here with me, for me. I needed to be grateful for that and stop waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Chapter 42
By the end of the workday on Friday, I felt like Naomi and I had figured out a good rhythm. The IT department gave me instructions that Paul helped me follow that allowed me to access the company database remotely, and that was a huge benefit. Being busy was good medicine. Paul was too.
I highlighted specific parts of Silas Marner and read another book Paige had given me—she had excellent taste. Considering the circumstances, I thought things were going smoothly. Paul and I were getting along, I was feeling good, and the baby was moving around a lot.
The only downside was that Paul and I hadn’t really talked. Not about what had happened, or what would happen in the future. We talked about work and current events and his hunting trip with Charlie, but nothing about us and the boxes still packed and stacked the way that Jared, Stormy, and Paige had left them. It was almost as though there was an electric fence around the topic of the state of our relationship, and anytime we got close, we could hear the voltage buzzing and we slowly backed away. I didn’t like it, but I also didn’t do anything to change it. I didn’t want to be the one who put my hand on the fence only to find out it had been set to “Kill.”
Friday afternoon I picked up another of Paige’s books—The Help. I’d heard about it but couldn’t remember if what I’d heard was good or bad. I remember hearing the movie was good but that it was the kind of film you went to see with your best girlfriends and I didn’t really have any of those—not the movie kind. Actually, Paige and Livvy would fit that bill nowadays, which was a fun discovery. Would they come over for a movie night if I rented it? Would Athena or Ruby want to come too? It was a big book, which was why I’d avoided it until now. But I still had more than a week left before I went back to Dr. Cortez; I had time to finish a big book.
The book was set in the south of the 1960s. I had a hard time getting into it, but didn’t know if that was because of the book or because I was distracted by Paul being here and that we hadn’t talked about what was between us.
Eventually, however, the story grabbed me by both hands as though sitting me down in a chair and saying, “Listen.” The women in the book were nothing like me—two of the characters were black maids, the third was a single white girl who’d been raised by a black maid. They all lived in Mississippi. Yet the more I read, the more they felt like me. Or maybe I saw bits of myself in them. Which didn’t make sense and yet fit perfectly.
I had to use a bathroom break to stock up on tissues when one of the characters had a miscarriage. It resurrected the pain I’d felt when I’d lost the baby during my divorce from Jared. Even though I had told myself I didn’t want the baby and that it was better that way, it was still a loss. Still heartbreaking. To see the pain I’d felt reflected in someone else broke me open, and I sobbed, having to put the book down for a little while at one point in hopes of getting myself back together.
It wasn’t a stretch to think about the little life inside of me now, a life I hadn’t wanted and had prayed and wished would go away. But it hadn’t gone away, and right then I was so grateful that prayer hadn’t been answered. It made me wonder if having prayers go unanswered was sometimes the very answer we needed. It took some working through of my own situation before I could return to the story. The book was such a reflection of the good and bad and ignorance of people—on both sides of the Civil Rights issues of the time.
Despite the fact that he’d just returned, Paul had a conference in Sacramento on Friday. He’d warned me he’d be home late. When Paige found out, she offered to bring dinner, and when Stormy found out Paige was bringing food and the boys, she said she wanted to come too. I, of course, cried when the plan came together. Everything was working out, and I was so grateful for the support I didn’t even know I had.
Stormy showed up at six, and we had half an hour or so to chat before Paige showed up with dinner from my favorite Mexican grill for us and chicken nuggets and fries for the boys. The boys were far more excited to see Stormy than they were about their food, though, and I loved seeing how much they adored her. I knew she’d been tending for Paige, but I didn’t realize how comfortable they all were with one another. She might be a better big sister than I thought she’d be, and yet little tremors of jealousy flitted about within me as well. I wanted Stormy and me to be okay—totally and completely okay—but we weren’t. Not yet. I envied the friendship she had with Paige, unencumbered by all the complexities of our current situation.
Paige handed everyone their food—I hoped the expense hadn’t been too much for her—and assured the boys that she wasn’t leaving; apparently they equated Stormy’s presence with their mother’s absence.
Stormy grabbed a blanket and spread it on the floor of the bedroom. “Let’s make it a picnic!” she said, sitting cross-legged. The boys plopped down beside her and dug in while I arranged my pulled pork salad.
We’d only just started when Nate came to his mom for a bite. He was so cute, and I had that reminder of second chances. Or in my case, third.
“Oh, I could just eat him up. Your boys are such sweet things,” I said.
“They are,” she agreed, looking at them with a faint smile on her face. “I’m lucky to have such great little men, aren’t I?”
What if I had a boy? Would I know how to take care of him? Would he be as cute as Paige’s boys?
“So, Paige . . .” Stormy said, popping a fry into her mouth and looking up at us. There was a sparkle in her eye that warned me she was up to something. I braced myself.
“Yeah?” Paige said as she took another bite.
“Tell us about your boyfriend.” Stormy grinned.
“Wait, your what?” I blurted out as Paige’s face turned bright red.
She tried to look casual, but her face had already betrayed her. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Then what do you call that cute guy you’ve been hanging out with?” Stormy challenged.
“You’ve never seen him,” Paige said strongly, losing the casual air she was trying to hold on to.
“Then he does exist,” I threw in, looking between the two of them.
“Oh, yeah, he does.” Stormy looked a bit too pleased with herself. “And he is a boyfriend, Paige, like it or not. What else would you call him?”
I put down my fork and crossed my arms expectantly. “Yes, what do you call a man—a cute man—you’re hanging out with regularly? Is it that Derryl guy you went out with a while ago?”
Paige threw Stormy a frustrated look. “I thought you could keep a secret.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, waving away her attempt at annoyance. “I’m stuck in bed with nothing but the TV and an occasional book to keep me company. I need a good story. Fess up.”
She gave i
n, but busied herself with her meal instead of looking at either one of us.
“His name is Derryl Freestone.”
“And?” I demanded when it seemed as though she might stop there.
“And we met in the building’s cafeteria during lunch. He works on the third floor.”
“Wait—that’s a law firm, isn’t it?” I said, smiling even wider. “He’s a lawyer? Is he a partner?”
“Not yet, but he thinks he might make partner in the next year, depending on how one of his cases turns out.”
She didn’t elaborate, but I could see that all kinds of thoughts were going through her mind. I was happy for her, really happy. Any man who ended up with Paige was very lucky indeed, but I sensed her concern and insecurity. I understood that too. When one happily ever after falls apart, it’s hard to believe in it the next time around.
“I, for one, am thrilled to hear it. You need some spice in your life—a man.” I nearly added how wonderful Paul was, how he’d convinced me that it could work a second time around, but it still felt rather fragile.
Nathan popped up again and took Stormy’s hand. “Come here.”
She obliged, lifting Shawn off her lap and following the two boys out of the room and to, I presumed, the kitchen, where, a moment later, sounds of drums rattled—likely plastic and metal containers hit with wooden spoons.
“She’s really good with my boys,” Paige said. “You’ve got a great girl there.”
I didn’t answer at first. Stormy was great, but I wondered if that was more in spite of me than because of my influence. I was very insecure about my parenting.
“You’ve done a great job raising your daughter,” Paige said, as though trying to make the point.
“I’ve made some mistakes, and we still have our differences, but overall, I got a good one with her, that’s for sure.” Would Stormy ever move back home? Would we ever live together like mother and daughter again?
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Paige asked, saving me from my worries for a moment.
“Not at all,” I said, relieved to have our conversation continue.
“How long after your divorce did you marry Paul?”
“Twelve years.” That seemed to surprise her, so I continued. “And no, I didn’t wait for some noble reason, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was just caught up in taking care of my two girls as best I could. You know how hard being a single mom is. It simply took that long for Paul to show up and sweep me off my feet.” Paul had been such a blessing. I wanted so badly to believe that this crisis was behind us and that we would both grow from it and be better for it.
“He’s really that great?” Paige pressed. Her question hit me harder than I wanted it to, but she seemed to read that through my expression and hurried to continue. “I mean, doesn’t the honeymoon period wear off? Two people can’t remain all twitter-pated and lovey-dovey forever, right? What happened when that wore off? I made a bad choice for a husband the first time, but he sure looked like a knight in shining armor in the beginning. I don’t know that I trust my judgment for a second round. For that matter, I don’t know that I trust men in general. Derryl’s great—he’s fun and sweet, and yes, he’s good looking. But . . . things change after marriage, you know?”
“Oh, I know,” I said with an emphatic nod.
“Right,” Paige said, nodding eagerly. “Daily life gets in the way. The best face you’ve kept on display while dating has to drop at some point, and the real you comes out. And when that happens, what will I discover I’m stuck with? Will I end up with another Carol in my life or something equally as bad?”
“Carol?”
“Doug’s new wife.” She played with her food and sighed. “Maybe I’m not making any sense.”
“No, you’re making total sense,” I said. “You’re afraid because you can’t really know a person before marrying them.”
Tears rose in her eyes and she nodded. “That’s it exactly. I enjoy dating Derryl, but I’m not sure it’s for the right reasons. He’s got money, for starters.”
“And he’s cute, from what I hear,” I said with a smile.
She nodded, but her mood was still heavy. Did she feel guilty that he had money? Paul had money, and I’d never seen that as a drawback. Then I thought about the rough patch Paul and I were in. I hadn’t seen it coming, and I thought I knew him pretty well. There were no guarantees, but how could I tell her that without sounding hopeless?
“Doug called before Christmas,” she said, “and Stormy answered. She told him where I was—and who I was with.” She leaned toward me conspiratorially, as though whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want anyone overhearing. “And when I heard about it, I was glad.”
“News flash, Paige—you’re human. Your ex is moving on and has a new woman in his life. It’s totally normal that you moving on with a new man would feel good.”
“But it’s more than me feeling good about my life.”
“I know. Dating another man is a way to wound your ex—show him that you don’t need him. I’ve been there,” I said with a shrug. “I remember. I was bitter for a long, long time. What you’re feeling is okay.”
“But it’s not okay,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothing’s okay. This wasn’t how my life was supposed to turn out. My boys need a dad. But is Derryl the person who should fill that role? I really, really like him. Maybe even love him.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head again. “I don’t know how I feel. Am I in love with him or with the idea of him and everything he’s changed in my life? I love the idea of not having to work anymore. Of being home with my boys. Of maybe having another child or two. Of not worrying about money. Of . . .” She sighed, obviously struggling to make sense of all her conflicting thoughts and feelings.
I reached across the bed and took her hands in both of mine. “Hey, you listen to me.”
She looked up, and I held her gaze. “Just take it one day at a time, one step at a time. Derryl might be the one. He might not be. Either one is okay. And you don’t need to know which one he is, not yet. There’s plenty of time to wait. Don’t rush it. You’ve only known him a few months.”
She nodded, looking relieved. I was glad I’d said the right thing. “You know what else?” I nodded toward the door, where the boys and Stormy had disappeared. Something crashed in the kitchen, followed by a shriek of laughter. “Your boys are growing up fast. Just since I’ve known them, they’ve gotten bigger. Nathan has doubled his vocabulary. Shawn’s reading more and even learned to ride a bike. Don’t let this time with them slip away. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, and there’s no getting it back. Don’t waste their childhoods worrying about the future and the what-ifs. The future will work itself out, one day at a time. But if you live in worry of it, the present will pass you by, and next thing you know, your boys will be snarky teenagers who don’t want to talk to their mother.”
My own words hit me. Don’t let this time slip away. The future will work itself out.
Stormy’s laughter echoed down the hall, and the smile I’d intended became a little more forced. Maybe if I’d done things differently, Stormy and I would be different, but like I’d told Paige, you don’t get those days back. Which meant I needed to double my efforts to make these days really count. I wasn’t done mothering my daughters, and I needed to stop seeing a finish line somewhere. As long as I was here, and they were here, there was opportunity. The idea wrapped me up and gave me a lump in my throat.
“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks.” A new round of tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t seem as burdened as she wiped at her eyes. “Enough of tears. I’m a neurotic mess.”
I laughed as we turned back to our meals again. “Aren’t we all?”
Chapter 43
Paul came home around eight thirty—Paige and Stormy had already left—and we snuggled in bed with popcorn while watching a movie together. It felt so perfect, so comfortable and normal and right, but we still skirted
that electric fence, smiling at one another and being kind, but not going too deep. I didn’t know how long I could do this, but I wasn’t ready to discuss it either. My conversation with Paige kept coming back to me. One day at a time. Don’t miss the present by worrying about the what-ifs. I fell asleep beside Paul and woke in time to watch him sleep for a little while before he got up. I enjoyed those moments immensely.
He eventually got going for the day, running errands, taking care of household chores, catching up on work he’d missed because of yesterday’s conference. I lay in bed and got lost in The Help again. By the time I finished the book that afternoon, I had a whole pile of tissues beside me. I didn’t know what to think of it. On the one hand, it was beautiful and educational and so well written. On the other hand, it was raw in places, and it made me so angry. The most uncomfortable part, though, was that, once again, it didn’t have a happy ending. Maybe it was happy enough, but it wasn’t happy-happy. I had wanted a happy-happy ending. I had wanted big changes and amazing discoveries. Instead, every character went on with their life pretty much as they had been in the beginning, only wiser for what they had experienced together. Good things were on the horizon for some, but bad things were coming for others. It wasn’t fair.
And yet one line stood out to me. Toward the end of the book, one of the characters reflected on the fact that while things weren’t perfect, she felt that everything had turned out the way it was supposed to.
Why did that make me uncomfortable?
Paul started straightening up for book group while I continued to ruminate on The Help. I hated feeling like an invalid, and then I felt like an escaped convict when I got up to take my shower for the day. I hadn’t had any additional spotting since Thursday, which, to me, seemed like proof that remaining on bed rest was silly, but I didn’t dare risk it, so I took my three-minute shower and then pulled my hair into a sloppy bun to save me from having to do anything with it. I did my makeup in bed and felt better once I could smile at myself in the mirror and admit I looked human for the first time in three days. I was pathetically excited about book group tonight. Paul, though gracious to prepare the house, disappeared into the bedroom as soon as the first attendee, Paige, arrived.
The Newport Ladies Book Club: Daisy Page 21