by Amy Marie
I force my hands to let go of the seat, rubbing them up and down my thighs. “And then I thought, But you left me, Amelia. And I don’t know if I can forgive you for it.”
I look up, desolate. “How did I go from feeling like attraction makes me unfaithful, and even admitting that someday there might hypothetically be someone else making me feel like a bigamist, to being angry with Amelia for something she couldn’t help—couldn’t change? Something that she fought tooth and nail, even though it made her suffer? When she was the victim? What right do I have to be angry?”
“The right to be human. You’re angry. That’s part of grief—part that you’ve suppressed, for the most part. And we both know it was mostly suppressed by self-medicating.” I nod my agreement. “But let’s focus on the anger for a moment. You feel abandoned? Tell me about that.”
We dive into that for a while. I know that my anger isn’t truly at Amelia, but at the loss. But whether she intended to leave me or not, she did. And now I have to deal with all those feelings—the abandonment, the betrayal, the emptiness. The agony that makes me want to howl at the sky and demand God bring her back—not just to me, but to my boys, dammit.
There might be a little anger in there at God, too.
And as crazy as it sounds, Dr. Black suggested I figure out some way to vent my anger—even finding some empty field and yelling at God, Amelia, whoever. Maybe I will.
But as I get quiet on the drive home, I remember a brief moment when the boys and I were shopping for Kat’s ring—the ring he recently gave her. I watched Grant express his love and adoration for her. His excitement at the prospect of a life with her.
For just a moment, I let myself imagine the years stretching ahead of me. My parents and grandparents as far back as I can remember all lived well into their nineties—some even lived past a hundred.
And I had the fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, I might not want to do that alone. But I’ll probably have to.
Lightning might strike the same spot twice, but the odds aren’t good.
Week before Groundhog Day
As I leave work headed for group, I’ve come to a bit of a cease-fire over the whole hypothetical woman. I’m focusing on healing the grief and letting go of the anger. Kat’s talked to me a little about some of her yoga friends. I like that girl—she’s got a good head on her shoulders and a good heart. Not to mention she loves my boy like there’s no tomorrow.
The yoga stuff is a little hippie-granola for my tastes, but there are some good things to learn from it. She sent me a picture of one of the girl’s t-shirts that said Inhale the good shit; exhale the bad shit. Made me laugh, but also made me think. And that’s what I’ve been trying to do.
So with each exhale, I choose to let go a bit of the bitterness. A bit of the anger. A bit of the jealousy that other husbands, other families, are whole and happy. Or even worse, that they throw that family away voluntarily.
It’s going to take a long time, but with each breath, I feel a tiny bit lighter—so I’m going to keep on breathing and letting go of these pieces that try to consume me and overshadow all the good in my life.
Because there really is a lot of good in my life.
I walk into group, and there’s an unexpected face today. Roxie. She turns and smiles as I approach her, holding out her hand to shake mine. I smile as I greet her. “Is Dr. Black out again today?”
“No, just thought I’d get back in group for myself. I’ve hit a new phase of life and found I’m still sorting out some things I should have long ago. Some things are hard to let go.” She smiles sheepishly, then I almost see a cartoon lightbulb go on above her head. “I think we actually know one another—well, by proxy. Is your younger son Bryant?”
I cock my head to the side. “Yes... ”
And he goes to Murray State with a friend named Alex?”
“Yes... ”
She laughs. “So how did y’all enjoy the dressing Bryant helped me make?”
My eyes widen as I make the connection. “You’re Mrs. Cole, Alex’s mom?”
“And you’re Mr. Crawford, Bryant’s dad. I started putting the pieces together at group, connecting some things Bryant and Alex had said.”
“I definitely need to thank you for directing me to Dr. Black. I don’t know where I’d be... ” My voice cracks and trails off.
She rubs my arm soothingly. “Sometimes we all need a little help when life kicks the shit out of us.”
I bark out a laugh. “Got to admit, I was not expecting that. Is that a technical term?”
“Absolutely. Learned it in therapy school.” She grins, and it’s contagious.
“Speaking of needing a little help, I’d love to pick your brain a little about something about Alex. Would you mind running across the street to the café and grabbing a bite to eat afterward? I’m really struggling with the fact that he’s probably going to spread his wings and leave the Bowling Green area when he graduates. I know you’ve already been through that with Grant, and I could really use someone talking me down off the ledge.” She lets out a laugh that’s as much panic as humor.
“And Bryant’s probably going to be joining him soon. He’s considering a move to Nashville when he graduates. Sounds like both our nests are about to empty.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”
“Sounds like you need carbs to go with that existential crisis. Home fries?”
“And bacon. Lots of bacon.”
I smile, realizing it’s been a long time since anyone has needed me. “As soon as group is over, we’ll bring the first meeting of the Society of Empty Nesters to order. I’ll even share my bacon with you.”
I feel ten feet tall as we walk to our seats.
Over the next couple of weeks, Roxie and I make a habit of grabbing a bite to eat after group. Sometimes it’s just the two of us, and sometimes Marcus or some of the others tag along. She talked me into trying some of the exercise classes at the gym she has been visiting, but I absolutely drew the line at spandex and yoga.
I wasn’t sure about tai chi, but it is calming. I wouldn’t call it exercise, necessarily, although Grant told me it’s good for balance and toning all the stabilizer muscles that are vital as we age. He helped me create several short workouts focusing on different areas, and I go to the weight room at the gym do those while she’s in the classes I don’t attend.
Sometimes the group all goes out after class to a café nearby, which is where I’ve discovered Roxie’s obsession with all things tea. I’ll always be a coffee aficionado, but I have to admit, I like some of the varieties she’s had me try.
Last night after group, no one wanted to go out because heavy storms were forecast, but the radar maps clearly showed we had at least a few hours.
Which meant the potential for more time with Roxie.
She and I proved to be the only brave souls going to what I now think of as our place. We nod at Melanie, the “mom” of the mom and pop who own this spot. She runs the front of the house and her husband Greg runs the kitchen. Melanie calls out to us as we head straight to our spot, the booth in the back corner. “One or two orders of home fries, y’all?”
We look at each other, and Roxie shrugs. “Just one,” I respond. When Roxie is dealing with stress, she wants her own order. Otherwise, she eats fairly healthy. “We can share.” As we sit, our thighs brush. Swallowing hard, I gather my nerve and reach for her hand.
Roxie startles, looking up at me with unspoken questions in her eyes.
“Roxie, I want to ask you something.” She nods, still wide-eyed and frozen in place. I know we only have a few minutes until Melanie brings our home fries and takes our order.
“We’ve spent a lot of time together with other people or while doing classes. I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. But I think we might enjoy spending some time together, just the two of us, focused on each other.”
She swallows nervously and gives a single nod of her head.
It’
s now or never.
“Roxie, would you let me take you on a date?”
Saturday morning, after a long night of storms, I find myself sitting in my recliner with my phone in my hand, pressed to my forehead. I made myself go out first thing this morning and check the property for damages—there was one big limb down in the back yard, but it missed the house and fence. After it warms up a bit, I’ll get the chainsaw and take care of it.
Then I came inside and waited for the coffee to perk. I poured myself a cup and grabbed a muffin from the batch Roxie brought to group. I can’t force myself to watch the morning news today, and I’ve run out of other distractions.
I find Bryant’s name in my call history and press send, anxiously waiting for him to pick up. I’m not ready to share details yet—and certainly not her name, since he knows her. I still want to keep this in our little bubble for a little while longer.
But it’s only fair that I admit his advice was sound.
“Son, I need to talk to you about something. Let me preface this by saying, you were right.”
Chapter 3
Roxie
Early February, approaching Valentine’s Day
I hear scuffing sounds on the front porch as Alex wipes his boots on the mat before the front door opens and quickly closes. He walks into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together for warmth and gives me a quick—cold!—kiss on the cheek as he walks past me.
He washes his hands, making a soft noise of pleasure at the hot water as he gives me a quick rundown. “The insulated cover is still on the spigot and the vents around the house are closed. I didn’t see any missing or lifting shingles after last night’s storm, but I didn’t really expect to find any since the roof is so new. I took care of the few small limbs that fell, but there wasn’t anything major down. Your fence is in good shape, too. Didn’t see anything major at any of the neighbors’ houses, either.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. You didn’t have to drive over to check on me just because we had storms last night.”
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I didn’t have any plans today, so a quick check on the house seemed a small price to pay for a home cooked lunch with you.”
I continue folding towels while standing at the table. “Nothing gourmet, I’m afraid—just some soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. But I did make a big pot of soup, so I’ll have plenty to send home with you. I’ll portion that up when it cools. I’ve got several more in the freezer to send as well.”
“Mom, you know you don’t have to do that,” he starts to object, but I cut him off.
“You know I couldn’t make a small batch of soup to save my life. So I quit trying. I just make the same amount, but I freeze the leftovers. I keep plenty for myself. But I can’t fuss over you and cook for you as often as I’d like, so this lets me send a little TLC back to school with you. It makes me happy.”
“Well, how can I argue with that?” He gives me a smile as he grabs a mug from the cabinet. “I’m going to fix some tea. What are you drinking this morning?”
I indicate my almost-empty cup. “I’m out, but I wanted something a little spicy to warm me up. One of my friends brought me back some tea from her trip to York called Orange Cookies. It’s a black tea with orange, apple, and several of the C-spices. Cinnamon, coriander, cloves. Oh! And pink peppercorns as well. Want to try some? I’ve got my usual breakfast blends and Earl Grey, if you’d prefer.”
“I’ll give this new one a try with you.” He glances at the package, spooning the appropriate amount of tea into an infuser for each of our mugs, then pouring some almost-but-not-quite boiling water over them.
I reach for honey and milk to fix mine, leaving them out next to his mug. He prefers to taste new blends plain first, but I think he’ll probably use both.
He holds his mug as it steeps, his still-cold hands soaking up the warmth. “Anything new going on? New clients, new interns, updating the office?”
Is it a little sad that the only options he lists are centered around my career? To be fair, other than Alex, that’s been my life since Philip died.
It’s now or never.
“Actually, there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“Toward the end of last year, I checked in with my therapist. Things just felt a little off kilter, more than just gearing up for my holiday rush or preparing for you to graduate and possibly move away. What had once felt comfortable felt...stagnant. Like the world kept moving and everything was passing me by. So she dug in with me and helped me face some uncomfortable truths. And one of those is that I have used a lot of excuses to stay closed off from the world to protect myself from getting hurt again.”
His eyes are soft as he watches me, but he doesn’t interrupt. He can probably tell how fragile the mood is—if he speaks, I might lose my nerve.
“After your dad...” I trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence. “I almost couldn’t function at first. Your grandparents and their neighbors and their church—they all just swooped in and took care of us. I tried to hide it from you, and they kept you busy, but I don’t know if I could have gotten out of bed without them. I was purely reactive. Someone would knock on my door and tell me the shower was free, so I would get up and shower. Someone would knock and tell me breakfast was ready, so I would come down to eat. Other than realizing I couldn’t stay there at the base and making the decision to move, I was a complete zombie for a while there.”
I remove the infuser, setting it by the sink before I take a sip of my tea.
You’re stalling, Roxie.
“In order to pick myself up and function again, I developed a bit of a survival mode. I was totally heartbroken and adrift. I had lost my best friend, my love, my co-parent, my rock. I leaned on your dad in so many ways each and every day. So every time I would start to ask his opinion, share your accomplishments, or tell him something funny, it sliced my broken heart back open. I just wanted to stop hurting. I pretty much just let my heart ice over. Other than you, nothing reached me. It was easier that way.”
Alex still says nothing, but his hand slides over and squeezes mine.
“It should have been like a cast—just a protective barrier while I healed a little, then I could remove it later and start putting a little weight on it. Except that didn’t happen. Not feeling anything—well, it just became so...easy. Like slipping in to cool sheets after a long day at the beach. Why would I back away from the comfort it offered? If anything, I just kept adding more protective layers of ice.
“I functioned in society, got us moved, in therapy, and ready to start the next chapter. I attended school events, got on good terms with teachers and other parents, and went through all the motions. When my therapist encouraged me to dip a toe in the dating pool, I went on a few group dates. I even allowed a few blind dates under very controlled circumstances.”
Alex snorts in surprise. “I never had any idea. Not that I minded—that’s not what I meant. I just never had a clue.”
“That was on purpose. I never would have introduced you to anyone that I wasn’t serious about—and I wouldn’t allow anyone to get close. After a while, probably about the time you hit your teens, I used that as an excuse. A lot of books recommend parents avoid dating when their kids are in their teens—particularly through high school. With all the teen hormones, it can be difficult to navigate without making the kids feel destabilized.”
Alex nods thoughtfully. “I guess I can see that, but I wish you hadn’t given that up for me. That’s a little heavy.” He sets aside his infuser and takes a sip of tea.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t give that up for you. Like I said, I used that as an excuse. Dating without being willing to put myself out there? It was uncomfortable, and frankly, I wasn’t trying even a little bit. I did the minimal amount of dating I could so it seemed I was healthy and coping well.”
I stare into my tea, searching for a way to reassure him. How about s
tark honesty? “But let’s be honest—I wasn’t healthy or coping well. I had a convenient excuse to make it all stop, so I took it. I used it to keep everyone besides you at a distance. I threw myself into being your mother and building my practice. Meanwhile, I never actually let anything touch my heart. After a while, I couldn’t remember a reason I would want to feel anything besides numb.”
He smiles, but it looks slightly conflicted as he reaches for the honey and milk to fix his tea.
“So I’m finally starting to let go of the protective layers, trying to let my heart thaw. Trying to remember what it feels like to let people in. It’s been a little painful poking into those old wounds in therapy. My therapist keeps reminding me to give myself a little grace. I may not have made perfect decisions, but I did the best I was able to do at the time. I think I mostly did alright by you, at least.”
“You did, Mom. You definitely did right by me.”
“I realized I cut myself off from friendships, keeping everything at surface level. Now I’m trying to form a few friendships, and trying to find some hobbies other than reading on my couch and trying new teas in my pajamas.”
Alex chuckles.
“I started with a few exercise classes—yoga, Pilates, tai chi. The kind of stuff that is good for balance and stress levels. And now I go out with a couple of ladies after those classes for tea in our yoga pants. Not so different than pajamas, but the venue and company have changed, at least.”
He snorts a laugh and almost chokes on the sip of tea he is taking. “That sounds good, Mom. I’m glad you’re making some new friends.”
I stare into my cup as if I could read the tea leaves that escaped the infuser. I can’t make eye contact if I’m going to continue sharing. “How would you feel if I were thinking about dating again?” I can’t bring myself to look up from the tea and meet his gaze directly.