Diane grabbed the phone. “No. You’re not going to say anything.” She briefly skimmed the last text that Nick had sent before she started typing.
“What are you doing?” I reached for the phone.
“Putting an end to this tonight.” She hit send and then returned the phone to me. I looked at it. There was a smiley face and then the words Can’t talk. Party time
“You didn’t!” I looked at her with wide eyes.
“Blah…every man needs to know that he can lose someone if he doesn’t shape up. Let Nick wonder where you are, who you’re with.” Diane reached for the phone again and powered it down. “We’re not putting our phones back on until the morning.”
My head was pounding when I opened my eyes. Diane’s guest bedroom was bright and the windows were on the east side so the sun was shining through brightly. I had forgotten what a hang-over headache I got from indulging in wine. The events of the night started coming back. Diane certainly did get a bit out of control with a bit of alcohol in her, and I had no problem following suit. It had felt good to let go and not think of anything or anyone for a while.
The problem was, this morning I felt like crap and everything we had done and said last night, I had a feeling, was going to come back and bite me in the ass. I heard Diane up and moving about so I figured it was time to face the music. Splashing cold water on my face and brushing my hair into a ponytail, I glanced down at the clothes I had apparently slept in. Feeling too nauseous and my head pounding, I decided it was too much effort to change my clothes.
I came into the kitchen as Diane was pulling coffee mugs out of the cupboard. She looked over at me and grinned. “Tough night?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a headache at all?”
She laughed. “I took ibuprofen before I went to bed. You, on the other hand, were insistent that taking a pain reliever before going to bed to prevent a hang-over was nothing but an old wife’s tale.”
I shook my head at her.
“I guess you were wrong about that.” She pointed to the table where a glass of water and two ibuprofen sat waiting for me.
I stuck out my tongue at her and swallowed the pills. Closing my eyes, I willed the pain relievers to work quickly. My momentary silence was interrupted by Diane, “coffee’s ready”. Once coffee had appropriately been digested and my head had settled down to a dull pounding, I turned toward Diane. “What did we do last night?”
“Nothing. We didn’t leave the house. Sat here and drank all night and giggled like schoolgirls.”
I snorted. “Schoolgirls. Is that what you called it when you were texting Nick from my phone?”
Diane looked at me. “Ummm, I forgot about that. How bad were the texts?”
“I haven’t even turned my phone on yet, but I vaguely remember you saying something about a party.”
Diane started laughing. “That’s right. Make him wonder what you are doing. Oh, I wonder how many times he texted you last night or called.”
Not feeling at all reassured, I went to find my phone in the living room. Finally locating it under a couch cushion, I pushed on the power button and waited for it to power up. The dinging was nonstop for a good couple of minutes. I was afraid to look down at it. Thirty-three text messages and twelve missed calls with five voice mails.
“Don’t read them or listen to the voice mails. Just delete everything and act like it never happened.” Diane said. “If he says anything, just tell him I was using your phone and there was nothing there when you got up in the morning. He’ll think I deleted everything. You probably don’t want to know if he’s pissed or not.”
“I can’t delete them without looking at them.” I looked at Diane and back to the phone, but I made no effort to open the text messages or dial my voice mail.
“I’m not sure you want to know. Honestly, we can chalk it up to having a little bit too much to drink, but, if he says something in those messages that he wouldn’t normally say to your face, it will be very hard to forget it.”
Her logic sounded reasonable, yet I had to know. The way he had been irritable since I got back, I knew these messages weren’t going to be good, but I was drawn to them. There was a need to know what he said that burned in me and I couldn’t ignore it. I finally opened the text messages and looked at the long string of messages that had been left. Mostly one or two words at a time. Are you ok?, Where are you?, Izzy!?! They were really benign and more just of the nature of being worried for me.
I shrugged and showed them to Diane. “See, nothing major.”
Diane snorted. “Let’s wait and see what his voice mails say before you think it’s nothing major.”
“This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t texted him telling him it was party time, he never would have blown up my phone like this.”
Diane laughed. “I’m not sure that’s true. I think, from the way he’s been acting, he might have done just that, regardless.”
“You’re impossible.” I dialed the voice mail and putting the phone on speaker, I let the voice messages play.
“Message one. Izzy answer my texts.”
“Message two. Where are you?”
“Message three. This is really pissing me off now. Answer the damn phone.”
“Message four. Pick up the damn phone now.”
“Message five. You don’t want to be doing this, Izzy.”
I looked at Diane. He definitely sounded pissed off. I shrugged. It’s not like we were engaged or anything. I could do what I wanted and with whomever I wanted. The defiance in me was released from the depths where I had hid it away years ago. I could feel it coming out through my bones. This man…this man would not control me.
“Izz...the look on your face tells me something serious is going through your mind. Think it through before you do anything. Last night was my fault. I never should have texted Nick with your phone.” Diane pleaded.
“I’m not going to do anything. I’m just not going to be controlled and treated like I’m a possession. He can either get back to the way he used to be or he can take a hike.”
Diane pointed her finger at me. “Are you sure about that?”
“Look, you know about Jack. You know my heart is still his. I’m never going to fall in love with Nick. He’s fun when he’s not being an ass, but right now, I don’t want to deal with this behavior.”
“I know, but Izzy. Jack is, Jack isn’t here and I don’t even know what to say about that. I have been thinking and thinking about it since we talked last, but you are not any closer to closure with him than you were eight years ago.”
I nodded. “The difference is I can acknowledge the way I feel and be okay with it. It doesn’t hurt anymore to say I love him still. And, as long as I’m okay with that, everything else will be the way it’s supposed to be, with or without Jack in my life.”
We sat there in silence, enjoying the rest of our coffee until the phone started ringing. “Guess who,” Diane said as she stood up. “I’m going to go shower, give you some privacy for that conversation.”
I nodded as I pushed the answer button. “Hey.”
There was silence. “Hey? That’s how you answer my call after all those messages I left last night?” Nick’s anger was clear, but if he thought I was going to give in and allow his anger to make me complacent, he was wrong.
“There’s nothing wrong with the way I answered the phone. Did you call just to be a jackass or did you actually want to talk to me?”
“What the f…” Nick stopped himself. “Izzy, I was worried last night.”
“Worried, why? I gave you no reason to think I was in a position that you needed to worry about.”
“I disagree, but if you want to play it that way, fine.”
I was taken back by his sudden change in thought process. “I was hanging out with Diane that’s all. It was no big deal.”
“I was just worried.” Nick’s voice had softened.
I shrugged knowing he couldn’t see it, but I reall
y had nothing to say to that.
“Can we get together and talk? This time since you have been home from the trip feels like we are a million miles apart.”
“Yeah, it does. But I’ve just had so much on my mind. It’s not you. I just need some alone time to process things.”
Nick grunted. “By shutting me out. Great.”
“Oh, my God, get over it, would you? I don’t pressure you to tell me everything.” I, again, was irritated at the turn in the conversation. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Hanging up the phone, I stared at it in my hand. Was my patience short with Nick because of his behavior or because of the events that happened in New Hampshire? I really had only shared them with Mary and Diane, and, at this point, Diane was the only one who knew every detail.
10
After leaving Diane’s, I had found my way back to my apartment via the thrift shop to pick up some new dishes and glasses to replace the ones I had lost. I was just finishing washing them when a knock on my door startled me. Still fighting a headache from my over-indulgence the night before, I hesitated. I didn’t want to see anyone. Coward, I chided myself, yet I didn’t move. I listened to whoever was at the door knock a bit more insistently and then, finally, stop. I walked quietly to the living room and stood still. I heard nothing, but couldn’t be sure they had gone down the stairs.
I tiptoed into the bedroom and laid down. Sleep wasn’t about to come to me, I realized, after I had laid there for a while with my eyes closed and feeling wider awake than ever. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. I got up and went to the closet. Looking up at the shelf that had held the cigar box, I cringed. The fact that my poems were gone and the box that, although was nothing special, was special to me and I longed for some sense of familiarity; I missed the comfort of that box that had been with me all these years--my connection to Jack. Reaching for another box on the upper shelf, I drew it down and brought it to the bed. I may not have my original poems, but I could recreate them or write something new.
I pulled out an old notebook from the box, one that held random phrases or song lyrics. I rifled through the pages, stopping and pondering different things, letting the memories take me back. I started piecing my teenage and college years back together through the random thoughts in the notebook. It was a dark time, yet some of the things I had written had been hopeful and showed that I wasn’t completely lost in my thinking that everything was wrong in my life. Things picked up in the notebook when the dates coincided with the time Jack had come into my life. Hope and love filled the pages.
I came to a page where Jack’s name was doodled all around. Jack Riley. The hearts that bordered the page and around his name made me smile. A foolish girl had written this. A girl who had hope that, one day, she could find happiness. A girl whose life had changed with one act, well two acts really. If I was honest, the first pivotal moment in shaping me came from the suicide attempt. An attempted suicide survivor. I hated that term. I didn’t feel like a survivor, and certainly didn’t back then. But then, the act of pushing Jack away before telling him I loved him had molded the way my life had gone. I had put myself on a path of self-destruction from the moment I broke my own heart.
I turned to the next blank page. I sat and stared at the page wondering where to begin. I thought back to college days during which I had spent hours writing poetry. How did I do it back then? Then it hit me. I used to think of a word or a phrase and let my thoughts take me along the path of that phrase, writing anything that came to mind. I pushed myself off the bed with my notebook and headed to the living room. Settled onto the couch, pen and notebook ready, I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to clear.
My thoughts drifted to the hope I had found in the notebook, hope that had been associated with Jack. Unfairness. The word darted into my mind and I silently said the word again and again. Unfairness. Life was unfair. Fate could be unfair. No, it wasn’t fate. It was our own doing. The words tumbled over and over again through my mind. Unfair. Fate. Life changes. Growing pains. These phrases surprised me and I tried to not think too hard on them. I let my mind wander with each word that came to mind.
Peace.
I opened my eyes with that one. What was it about peace that made me feel relaxed? Was the thought of putting pen to paper giving me a second chance? A chance to pour out my emotions like I once did, to put the emotions on paper and let them go? I had stopped writing when I pushed Jack away and all those years, the emotions bottled up in me. Jack. I could still see his smile and those blue eyes.
My pen touched the paper and seemed to take on a life of its own. Words flowed from me and when I set the pen down to read what I had written, I allowed the peace to settle over me.
The roar of the ocean, the quiet of the colorful sky
Quiet meets the roar, blending into peace
I sit and wonder of our chances of ever capturing the secret
Will peace ever quiet the roar of the world?
The roar of the ocean, the quiet of the colorful sky
I sit in awe, peacefulness embracing me.
I forgot about everything from this weekend, from the past couple of weeks that had weighed me down. I gave myself permission to let go of the hurt and pain, the sadness, the longing, but, most importantly the negative thoughts of self-worth of myself. I closed my eyes and allowed myself the freedom to let my mind flow and wander with no set purpose, no inner reflection and no contemplation of my life. Freedom. What I have wanted all these years.
Then the unthinkable happened. My mind filled with what ifs. What if I hadn’t pushed Jack away? What if I had gotten pregnant that day? Jack’s child. A lone tear rolled down my cheek. How many times had I wished I had had a part of him with me all these years? What if things had been different? But they weren’t. I had made a unilateral decision that had sent us down separate paths, a journey that, apparently, we were destined to take separately.
I pushed the notebook aside. So much for peace. Sunglasses and the smell of salt air was what I needed to clear my head. I grabbed my sunglasses and yanked open the door to find a small box. I glanced around. No one was there. I reached down and picked it up. It was light. I stepped back into the apartment and slipped off my sunglasses. I pulled the ribbon from around the box, and slid open the cover. Inside sat a sand dollar with a note card. I opened the card and read:
The sand dollar is designed to survive the storms and represents strength;
yet it’s fragile and represents being gentle in your approach to life. The sand
dollar is a reminder to go with the flow and be flexible in your way of thinking.
The card was signed simply, Nick. I picked up the sand dollar and held it in my palm. It was smooth and had been varnished to preserve the hard shell. The intricacies of the pattern on it gave it a unique beauty. I was touched by the meaning behind the sand dollar and the fact that Nick had thought of me when he bought it. Survive storms…well, we certainly have had some life storms lately, and the fragility of our relationship seemed all that clearer now. Flexible in our thinking, I guess that goes two ways. I sighed. It was a clear sign there was some work on being open minded when it came to repairing things with Nick.
I sat there looking at it in my palm. I closed my eyes and envisioned myself free of any walls or barriers that held me back in having a real relationship. Can I leave Jack in the past and, truly, move on? Or was Jack the storm that I had survived and I was now fragile? Was it a metaphor for my relationship with Nick or just for my life? I placed it gently back in the box. Storms of life could come, or even with a relationship. One thing was for sure, I was a survivor.
11
Jack
Obligation. The word I had thought about since I had left Charles Winham’s office. I did have an obligation to Madde. I had taken vows, and despite our differences, I wasn’t going to just walk away. Although, she definitely was making it harder and harder to stay. The plan was to keep my head down and work hard, and then, Charlotte
came into our lives. That little girl brightened my day and everything around me.
But the feeling of dread came over me every time I thought about the word obligation. Was it wrong to feel bound to my wedding vows, even if my heart was truly somewhere else? Why did Madde stay if she was so unhappy? And, by her actions, she was extremely unhappy. The sad fact of the matter was that neither of us spoke with the other about what we were really feeling or wanted in life. We both just moved through the days and weeks like nothing had changed in the last two years when, in fact, nothing was truly the same.
Since Izzy had shown up on my doorstep, I had spent so much time reflecting on the past. What could have gone wrong, what could have been if we had stayed together? It was a dangerous path to go down. I had gone down that road while married the first time and it drove a wedge between Michelle and me. Yet, I opened up to Michelle about Izzy and she was the one who kept Izzy between us after that. Though, I don’t think I ever had fallen in love with her. Not like I had with Izzy.
The house Neil and I had acquired needed a lot more work than was originally anticipated. Upon closer inspection, the floor boards were found to be rotted. Although the foundation was stable and structurally sound, we decided to level it and start over. I had dropped Charlotte off with my sister and was on my way to meet Neil when, stopped at a red light, I glanced over and saw Madde. She was in a coffee shop sitting alone. I wrestled with the fact of whether I should stop and see if we could talk. Maybe, out of the house and in public, a civil conversation could be had about what each of our expectations were for this marriage, but then I noticed a coat on the chair across from her.
Making the Rules Page 5