by Robyn Carr
“It was good before there were all these things. Before I came home every day and found new things.”
“I can’t do this. Stop it, Mike!”
“Is that how it would be?” he asked her. “There’s something wrong and you can’t deal with it? You can’t fight it out? Chris, if there’s a problem, we have a problem. What do you think? Think it’ll go away? Huh?”
“You want to give it to me? Is that it? Yell at me for a while because you’re mad? It was okay when I needed everything from you, huh? When I had nothing at all. Destitute, needy, sad little divorcée—you could tell me then, ‘Go work on your book,’ ‘Be who you want to be,’ ‘Be where you want to be.’ But you can’t live with the real me, huh? Because my aunt’s money makes you feel like less of a man? Maybe because you feel like a man only when someone’s hanging on you, thinking of you as a hero, but you don’t have any interest in someone who can stand on her own two feet.”
The room was silent.
“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t want to feel that way, but I do.”
“You feel different? Now?” she asked softly, tears coming to her eyes.
“I wanted—” He felt his throat closing up on him. “I wanted to hold on to a family that needed to be held. Not—” He stopped again to swallow before going on. “Not one that didn’t need me.”
“I don’t have everything I need,” she whispered. “Then do something,” he entreated. “Change it back.”
“I can’t. Don’t you see? You loved the Chris who didn’t have anything. I don’t want to be that Chris. If you don’t love me as I am, you were loving a fantasy, a hard-luck story.”
“I did not love a hard-luck story! It was this feisty little babe making it through tough stuff that a lot of stronger people couldn’t. But it wasn’t true. You weren’t gutsy—you were rich. You always have been—you just didn’t have it on you!”
“Oh, God,” she said, shaking her head, “I should have known. I never should have stayed here. You think I’ve changed, but you’re the one who’s changed. I’m the same person, and you don’t like me as much.”
“No, you don’t like it when it doesn’t go your way. You gotta have it smooth as glass every second. That’s it.”
“Oh, yeah? I’ve been real spoiled, all right, the past few years of—”
“Oh, don’t give me that bull! You never starved. You could always have called her!”
“Maybe I should call her now!”
“Well, maybe you should!”
They both looked stricken by what had been said. But it was too late to take it back.
Mike suddenly didn’t know what to do. He yanked open the door. “I gotta have air. Gotta cool down.” Reluctantly, helplessly, he left the bedroom and the house.
Mike drove around for a while but ended up at his mom and dad’s. He’d pretty much known he would. It was years since he had sought his father’s advice. Years since he had talked about his troubles. Years since he had admitted he had any.
“You oughta see what’s under the Christmas tree,” he told Big Mike. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And it’s my fault as much as Aunt Flo’s. But it’ll never stop.”
“It’ll stop,” Big Mike said. “You’ll run out of money pretty quick.”
“Do you know what she’s got? I mean, like millions of dollars!”
“Did you stop playing the Lotto? I thought you went for an idea like millions of dollars.”
“That’s different. It would have been mine.”
“‘Mine,’” Mattie said quietly, half pretending not to get into this. “Kids say that when they’re two. Usually they get over it.”
“Ma, it isn’t like you think. I thought a lot of money didn’t mean that much to Chris, but she flaunts it now. I mean, she’s buying things for my house all the time. Like when Flo was coming for dinner, she bought this whole new set of dishes, new tablecloth—the works. Flo can’t sit down at a regular table? God forbid there should be a chipped dish. Can you imagine what it would be like if she came here? With the rest of us?”
Mattie shrugged. “She would sit down and eat or not. Makes no difference to me.”
“Oh, you think that, but it isn’t that way. It feels different to be surrounded by money. If I stay with Chrissie now, she’ll build us a mansion.”
“How terrible a thing, Mikie my boy. Just think of it—the pain of living with some money. Terrible break for you.”
“Come on.”
“So what would you change? What one thing?”
“The money. And the aunt.”
“How would you do that?”
Okay, he thought. I can’t make those changes. “Maybe I wouldn’t have offered my house in the first place.”
“Okay, if that makes it all better, okay. But for a minute there I thought you liked it. Maybe I was mistaken.”
“I think you were.” Big Mike was mistaken: it had been more than a minute, and he had more than liked it. He had felt restored, alive—before this whole issue of who had what and who was in charge got in his way. He’d already let it out, though, and if Chris couldn’t face it any better than he could, then it couldn’t be resolved. If you didn’t know where the fire was, you couldn’t put water on it.
He complained for a while longer, but he didn’t tell them that the big problem was him. Probably they already knew. Stubborn and bossy. He liked to control things. On the other hand, he didn’t want anything to do with a woman who would be controlled. The prospect for reconciliation didn’t look good.
His parents said things like, “So what do you want? That she give the money away so you don’t have to worry about it?”
“No, not that, but—”
“Maybe she should give it to you. Then it would be yours.”
“No, but—”
I only want to feel good again, he thought. In control. Useful. Helpful. Needed.
At four o’clock he was ready, he thought, to go back to his house. His mother slapped his cheek affectionately. “Try not to be too stupid about this, Mikie.”
“That will be hard for him, Mattie,” Big Mike said.
“Don’t do that. Don’t say that. Chrissie called me a big dope.”
Mattie kissed his cheek. “Did you see Jim? He’s all right?”
“I saw him. He’s doing fine, considering.”
“Terrible thing,” Mattie said. “Life is too short. Sometimes when you come that close to losing someone, sometimes it makes you want to shake everything up so you can fix it, huh?”
He thought for a minute. Was that why? He’d thought about losing Jim and then become afraid of losing Chris and the kids. Knowing that having them the way he did wasn’t feeling too good, he’d wanted to shake it up. Maybe then they could put the pieces together right. But, no. He’d just made a big mess of things.
“Yeah, Ma,” he said.
When he left the house Big Mike settled, shook the paper and hid behind it. “So?” Mattie asked her husband.
“That Chrissie. Good judge of character, that girl. He’s a big dope, your son.”
“He’s always my son when he does something stupid.”
“Was he the one who put Matthew in the clothes chute?”
“It was Chris in the clothes chute, and he put himself there after making Tommy go first.”
“Was it? You’re sure?”
“You think he’s going to be all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m betting on that terrible dog. I bet you anything that if she leaves, she doesn’t take that terrible dog.”
“I think you hope,” she said.
The house was filled with the good smells of cooking. Chris was standing at the stove. This was not what he had expected. He had come in through the garage, and now he stood just inside the door and looked at her. “I don’t know how to say I’m sorry about what I said.”
“You said what you felt. You can’t be sorry for that.”
“I’m sorry I said anything. I don’
t want to feel that way. I wanted to work on feeling different before I said anything.”
“But you were telling the truth?”
He nodded.
“Then I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said. “I cooked dinner, a special one. Do you think we can bury it for one night?”
“One night?”
“I think we should have an early Christmas. You, me, the kids. Flo is planning to get in at two tomorrow. If I can’t reach her and get her to cancel—I’ve been trying—the three of us will meet her and go back with her. You two are incompatible. This isn’t good for anybody anymore. I wanted it to work, Mike. And I’ll never stop loving you.”
“Is it because we’re too different?”
“No. Because the differences are tearing us apart. And I don’t think I can fix this.”
“Try. Please. I’m willing to try.”
“I don’t think you can, Mike, and the past ten days—maybe the next ten years—you against Flo, against where I’ve come from, what I can provide…”
“But you don’t have to provide. You—”
“I do have to. I have to give, too. And not just hot food and grateful sex. I have been working, working hard, so that I could make it on my own. That effort is as much a part of who I am as any other part of me. I don’t have to live in a big fancy house or be like Flo or be able to afford the finest of everything, but I do have to be able to earn money, spend it, save it as I choose. I want this whole business about the amount to be irrelevant, like at Mattie and Big Mike’s. Where whoever has gives, and whoever needs takes. Not just money, but all of it. I can’t live with a man who will put restrictions on what I, too, could provide.”
“You could give me a chance to try to—”
She shook her head, then walked toward him. Her arms went around his neck. “You mean struggle with this until it either works or crashes down around us? You wanted to be the one, you said, to give me what I need to build my life. Oh, Mike, you can’t. Neither can Flo. I’ve got to do that for myself. Being loved because you’re helpless is not very different from being loved because you’re rich.”
“You’re comparing me to him? Chrissie, your husband didn’t love you—he used you. He didn’t say he’d try to change. You’re just running away.”
“Not exactly. I’m going to spend Christmas with Flo, but I’m not going to move in with her. I have some money from the landlord, and if I don’t sell a book soon, I’ll get a job. I’ve done it before. I want to do it on my own. I can share my life, Mike, but I don’t want to be owned. I don’t want to be kept down. This situation is hurting both of us too much.”
“Chrissie, I have a bad temper. I’m bossy and stubborn, like you said. I got jealous. But maybe I can change some of that. Let’s—”
“Look, I’m leaving, not dying. Maybe some of this can be worked out—a lot of it works already. But not while I’m in your house. I don’t know which was harder, having you try so hard to be perfect and patient, or having you blow up like you did. Let’s let the dust settle. We’ll email, talk on the phone. Maybe after a while…”
“Don’t leave. Don’t.”
“I have to. I think the kids and I have been through enough for now. For now, let’s not put ourselves through any more fighting. Maybe later, when things have calmed down, when this business with the ‘lost money’ is settled, when my book is published, you know…maybe we can work it out. It’s been wonderful, and I love you. Let’s try to part friends. I’m not going to disappear. If it’s meant to last longer, it’ll survive a separation while we both decide what we need. Let’s not put ourselves through a rough Christmas.”
“Is it what you want?” he asked. “Would you love me better if I had some house plans drawn up…if I wanted to help you spend your money?”
“Mike, it isn’t either love me for my money or love me because I’m broke. It isn’t either-or. This is who I am. I am sometimes broke, and sometimes it looks like I have a lot of money. I want to be okay either way. I think it’s the only way. We did what we set out to do, huh?”
“What if I beg?”
“Then that would mean you weren’t telling the truth when you asked me to stay just long enough so I could get back on my feet and you could remember what you wanted again.”
He shrugged. “I never asked you to promise anything, it’s true. I said open invitation.”
“But you made that offer to someone else. I’m not who you thought I was. That book. My stupid ex-husband. Will you be all right?”
“In a while.”
“No veldt-sores?”
Open, bleeding wound. But he was one tough guy. “Those are taken care of now. But I think I drove you away when all I wanted was for you to stay.”
“Maybe you couldn’t help it, what with wanting one thing but being stuck with another. It’s my fault, too. I should have told you that first night you asked me to stay. At least I should have told you before we…” She held back tears, looking away briefly. “It’s been pretty rugged around here since Flo came and my past became my present and we forgot we only had one small, simple goal: I needed a roof, and you needed to get in touch with what you really wanted. We got a little carried away. I don’t want them to hear that kind of fight again,” she said, her head nodding in the direction of the living room.
“I suppose.”
“Kiss me, Mike. Kiss me so I’ll never forget how wonderful it feels.”
Carrie’s chin quivered. “Mommy says that we’re going to our Auntie Flo’s for Christmas.”
Mike picked her up. “Does that make you sad?”
“No. Cheeks makes me sad.”
“Why?”
“He’s going in a kennel for Christmas. Because he can’t go on the airplane. He doesn’t have a box.”
“Oh, no, he’s not. He’ll stay with me. He can come to the cabin with me for Christmas. Okay?”
“You don’t have to do that, Mike. Cheeks is pretty hard on your socks.”
“I like him. I’ll buy him a bunch of socks for Christmas. How’s that, Carrie? Can I keep him for you while you’re away?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “And then you can bring him when you visit us. When are you going to visit us?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Pretty soon, maybe. When are you going to visit me.”
“Pretty soon, too. Mommy says we will always know where you are. We bought you Christmas presents, and we’re going to open them tonight. It is a ‘practice Christmas.’”
Let it be, he thought. Don’t let me tempt fate by showing either too much joy in their presence or too much pain in their departure. Let them be happy, leave happy, as they were happy within my arms. All of them. And then, in my memories, I will be less lost.
Dinner was ham and things. Christmas ham. And a fire in the fireplace. And eggnog, cookies and an Irish whiskey, neat, for the grown-ups, which would either untense some tight nerves or loosen their tongues or start the tears flowing.
They only opened presents from one another; Flo’s were put back in the boxes they had been shipped in to be carried back to Chicago. Chris had already made plane reservations. It was a miracle she was able to book them this time of year, but she called a travel agent and paid top dollar for first-class. It was all set.
And the opened presents would also be packed and carried away because, as Mike knew, they wouldn’t be back soon. The kids were thrilled with their bounty. And Mike was surprised to be given things he had not thought they knew how to buy. A gun-cleaning set. Riding chaps. A rod and reel. And a big packet of socks. “We’ll go fishing when you visit, huh, Kyle?”
“Fishing!”
“Our mother doesn’t like guns very much,” Carrie said. “But she said you are very careful with them.”
“I am. When you’re very careful and you know what you’re doing with guns, as with fires, they’re not so scary.” Why then, he wondered, had they been so reckless with what they so briefly, so blissfully had? Had they never considered love volatile?
“Will I ride the horses some more?”
“Yes. Yes, you will. And I’ll take pictures for you and email them to you. And pictures of all the Cavanaugh kids. And Big Mike and Gram. And I’ll call you at your Auntie Flo’s. Okay?”
“Okay!”
“Should we read a story? One of our favorites?”
“No, the new one. Read a new one.”
“Okay, a new one, then.” Which he did. A long, long one. But when they fell asleep, both of them, he did something he had never before done. He woke them. “Carrie. Kyle. Wake up a little bit. I’m going to take you to bed. It’s my turn to tuck you in. There we go.” And he hefted them up in his big arms and took them, together, to the beds upstairs.
There was an ache in his chest, but he would not give in. “I love you very much, Carrie,” he told her. “And you can visit me whenever your mommy wants to.” And then, “I love you very much, Kyle, and I promise to take you fishing if your mommy will let you go.” And he held each one tight, kissed each one on forehead, cheeks, lips, chin. They were too tired to notice how desperately he behaved, and for this he was grateful.
He returned to Chris. She handed him another Irish. “I wish I had done better,” he said. “Maybe you’ll change your mind. Maybe when things are a little settled, you’ll come back and work on this with me. I’m a big dope, but I’m not hopeless.”
“Maybe. The timing has been all wrong. I’m not the coward I appear to be, Mike. And I’m not choosing between you and Flo—I’m only getting some distance from both of you while I think things through.”
He lifted his glass to her. “That’s probably good. Me and Flo, we’ve been lousy to you. You okay about the dog?”
“Carrie feels a lot better about it now. Do you think we’ll have something to talk about on the phone? Do you think we’ll keep whatever it was we had—”
“Is, Chris. Whatever it is. We haven’t lost it. We just got sidetracked. Me. I got pigheaded. Our family’s famous for it.”
“But you’re letting me go. Not arguing about it.”
“I said I’d try. I don’t know if I can change, I can only try. I became a different person when I started to compete with your big bucks. I didn’t like the person I was becoming, but I couldn’t get rid of the feelings. I want you to be where you ought to be. Here, there—it’s all the same. I’ll love you no matter what.”