Warm November

by Kathleen Knowles

  She and Kay had almost always struggled with some sort of issue. Merle was analytical so she accepted their constant discussions about the least little thing as normal. That might have been just another sign she’d missed. When did a minor difference of opinion become a reason to break up?

  “Whoa. So how come you never said anything about any of this?”

  “What would be the point?” Clea asked.

  “You needed to figure it out for yourself,” Sigrid said,

  “I suppose I wouldn’t have received any criticism of Kay very well.”

  “You never bad-mouthed her or complained about her. You’re very loyal that way. And you loved her,” Clea said.

  “You had to figure it out for yourself. You know how we are.” Sigrid meant that no one could tell someone else to do something. Humans would just go ahead and do the opposite. Or they would do it and then resent you for telling them. That was probably what Kay’s shtick really was. She would agree when it suited her or she sensed Merle had reached her limit. It was a depressing characteristic of the human psyche.

  Merle stared at the table, then at the ceiling again. She pulled her legs in and straightened her spine.

  “I did love her. I was enamored of her. I thought she was beautiful. I still think so. And intelligent and kind. I just thought we were going through what all couples go through.”

  “Honey, it’s a fine line between working through your problems and just letting the other person get away with BS,” Clea said.

  Merle winced.

  “She was all those things, sweetheart.” Sigrid spoke kindly. “But she was a lot of other things as well, including massively dishonest. So here you are.”

  “Here I am.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Clea asked, her dark eyes probing her.

  “What do you mean what am I going to do now? Nothing, I guess. What should I do?”

  They glanced at one another and then back at Merle.

  Sigrid said, “For the moment, nothing is likely a good choice. Give yourself some time.”

  “Are you okay for money?” Clea asked.

  “Yes. Why would you ask that?” Merle felt suspicious and defensive in spite of herself.

  “Well, you just lost half of your household income. And you’ve got a mortgage to pay. We thought—”

  “I’m fine for now.” Merle had worked for many years as a lab manager for a fairly well-known researcher at UCSF. “But I’m going to have to get a roommate soon to help with the mortgage. I have to buy Kay out of the house, though she said I could have a lot of time.”

  “Okay. Just asking. That was nice of her, at least. This whole thing is pretty traumatic and disjointing. You shouldn’t minimize it.”

  “I’m not.”

  “We know, sweetie, and we were just teasing. You can sure enjoy some self-pity. Then you need to pull yourself together and move forward. No wallowing.” Clea shook her finger at Merle and laughed, which made Merle laugh, because she knew what they meant. No alcoholic or drug addict, no matter how long she was clean and sober, could afford to let self-pity take over. That way lay madness, then possible relapse. Both, probably.

  “We could go on a little vacation.” Sigrid looked thoughtful. “Maybe a few days in Mendocino? How does that sound?”

  “Sure. That would be good.” The idea intrigued Merle. A vacation with just Sigrid and Clea. No Kay. She might as well experience as many situations as possible without Kay just to get used to the new reality. Going on vacation with her friends ought to help the process along.

  *

  Mendocino was a three-and-a-half-hour drive up Highway 1, so that left plenty of opportunity for talking about Kay. Merle didn’t want to bore her two friends, but they listened and made sympathetic comments. Merle realized why they hadn’t spent that much time together as a foursome. And why Sigrid and Clea had said very little about Kay. They didn’t much like her.

  Kay no doubt had picked up some kind of vibe from them and didn’t ever suggest they get together. It had become clear to Merle just how many vital thoughts Kay had kept to herself.

  Merle said, “I want to pound the side of my head and yell, ‘How could I have been so stupid!’”

  Clea was driving, but Sigrid turned around and patted Merle’s leg. “Merle, honey, you don’t have to beat yourself up.”

  “You’re right. It’s pointless. I loved her, I chose her. It’s not my fault I didn’t get what I paid for. So to speak. She was damned good at manufacturing a façade of actually caring for me.”

  “She likely did care for you, but she’s a codependent monster who wouldn’t know the truth about herself if it came up and kicked her in the teeth.”

  “So Sigrid, tell me what you really think.” Merle enjoyed the Kay-bashing now. If it had happened before the breakup, she might have done some teeth-kicking herself. Now it was funny and ego-boosting.

  Clea squinted ahead as she negotiated the curvy, narrow two-lane highway and growled. “That child was a selfish twit. You were a saint.”

  Sigrid turned around and cocked her head. “You were very patient with Kay.”

  “Let’s talk about how I was a saint some more.” Merle was enjoying the conversation. It was handy to have her posse on her side.

  “Not so fast, chickie,” Clea said. “I was being sarcastic.” She checked her rearview mirror.

  “Stop tailgating me, bro,” Clea said to no one in particular.

  “Aw, crap. I want to be a saint for a while.” Merle pretended to pout. “I know, I know. What was my part?” She asked the not-quite-rhetorical question everyone in recovery had to ask themselves when things went south. Nothing could be wholly blamed on someone else. Responsibility must be assumed. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that part. But she wanted to ask the question before either Sigrid or Clea asked it.

  “So, Merle dear, what is the answer?” Sigrid was serious. No more sarcasm.

  “I was kind of pussy whipped.” To her surprise, that statement popped into her head pretty quick.

  “Oh no, we don’t want to hear about that.” Sigrid put her hands over her ears.

  Merle leaned forward and put her hands on the back of Sigrid’s car seat.

  “No, really. I had it for her bad, I always did. I think that worked for her for a while. Until it didn’t. She would be lovey-dovey every once in a while, but then it went away all together. I just thought I wanted sex more than she did. That it was my fault.”

  “Wanting sex is not a fault, girl,” Clea said. “Not being honest is a fault.”

  Merle knew what she meant. Her part in this debacle: she refused to see the truth even if Kay wasn’t speaking it. It was there for her to discover and she refused to see it.

  “I was in denial. You know how that goes. Hey, pull over there,” Merle said all of a sudden. They’d reached one of her favorite spots on Highway 1.

  Clea obeyed, and the three of them climbed out of the car. They were near Jenner and at the top of a mountain, it seemed. The hill was behind them, with Highway 1 snaking its way through canyons and around hills. The Russian River estuary lay just below them. The sun glittered on the Pacific. A lone fishing boat chugged north. From their height, it looked like a toy boat. They could see but not hear the white water that was so much a part of the coast of Sonoma County.

  “This is the best part of being a Californian,” Sigrid said. “The scenery is so dramatic.”

  “It sure as heck is.” Merle’s thoughts were drifting. Be grateful. Be happy. It’s over. She’s gone. Time to get on with the rest of your life. Your friends love you. You have a good life. And she’s not coming back. Merle was going to have to repeat that to herself a lot.

  They stood at the overlook for a few minutes without speaking, then turned as one and got back in the car to continue their journey north.

  *

  They stayed at a B&B in Fort Bragg, the scruffier, more working-class town just north of Mendocino. They visited the upscale shopping
mecca during the day or hiked in the state park. Clea was the bigger shopasaurus, so while she was indulging that side of herself, Merle and Sigrid went off together. They watched seabirds swoop over the cliffs and walked along the myriad paths just outside of the village of Mendocino. Spring was more to Merle’s liking than summer because Mendocino suffered from summer overcrowding. If only Kay had broken up with her a little sooner. Ah well. It was still good to be away from the city for a bit. Mendocino was lovely even with all the summer crowds. At least there weren’t too many kids. It was definitely not a kid-friendly place.

  Merle and Sigrid settled on one of the benches on the bluffs just south of the town. It was Merle’s favorite time of day, the late afternoon. The sun was still out, but the fog was moving in and a bracing chill filled the air.

  She looked at Sigrid in profile, her head back and her eyes closed. She had a purple muffler wrapped around her neck. Her curly golden hair moved in the breeze.

  Sigrid said, “Sometimes I like to just feel a place like this rather than see it.”

  “I like to engage all my senses.”

  “True.”

  Merle studied Sigrid, wondering if she should ask the question. Would it destroy Sigrid’s holiday reverie? Maybe, maybe not. She didn’t want to torture her two friends with constant chatter about Kay. She had something different in mind, though, than rehashing the debacle with Kay.

  “Why do you and Clea stay together?”

  “What?” Sigrid’s blue eyes flew open and she looked alarmed.

  “That didn’t come out quite right. I meant, what makes you work? I believe you do. I see that you do, but what I want to know is why.”

  “Oh.” Sigrid sat back and looked thoughtfully out over the cove to their left where an arch in the rocks funneled the waves in an interesting way. “I think what you want to know is why you and Kay didn’t work.”

  “Nooo. I think I know now.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Kay was so wonderful for the first few years. She was lovable and attentive and present and sexy and all of that. I was gaga about her. We bought the house, we got Sadie. We planted the garden.”

  “You were only missing the white picket fence.”

  “Yeah, we had it in spirit. So we’re going along, everything just fine. Then things got a little less smooth. I got laid off from that one lab. Kay got mono. I thought we were just weathering a few rough spots. Somehow, as time went by, she became, I don’t know, less attentive? I was the same. I felt the same. She said she was fine but she wasn’t. The withdrawal was so gradual, I didn’t even see it. I thought I was too demanding.”

  “You weren’t. She wasn’t giving enough. And you were too nice. Too supportive.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so. How could I have been so dumb?”

  “There’s no way to answer that, sweetheart. That’s somewhat like asking ‘Why?’ And ‘why?’ is not a spiritual question.” Sigrid smiled as she repeated the AA wisdom.

  Merle fell silent for a moment. Sigrid touched her shoulder.

  “Mer. Don’t think that you should have known better, that you’re too ‘recovered’ to have this happen.”

  Sigrid was saying aloud what Merle couldn’t let penetrate her consciousness but had been there nonetheless. Hearing Sigrid say what she hadn’t wanted to think about was painful but somehow comforting.

  “How did you know that was what I was thinking? I didn’t know that was what I was thinking.”

  “Because we all think that. We think because we’ve worked those steps and gone to those meetings and haven’t drunk or used drugs for a kazillion years that somehow that confers some special wisdom on us. That we shouldn’t make mistakes and behave inappropriately. It’s bullshit.”

  “Yeah. It is. I know. I’m no different from anyone else.”

  “Nope. You and I and all of us are just fallible human beings. Nothing more and nothing less. This breakup shouldn’t discourage you. It can show you what to look out for next time. You can and will get the woman you deserve. I’m sure of it.” Sigrid hugged her, and Merle got a little teary, but she felt better.

  “I want to hear how it’s supposed to work. This love thing.”

  “I’m not sure I can explain that.”

  “Oh, come on. You and Clea, you’ve got a great relationship. As far as I can see.”

  “I see. Well. I only know what works for us.”

  “That’s good enough for me. Talk.” Merle propped her head on her elbow and composed her mind to listen.

  “I believe,” Sigrid paused, looking for the right words, “that Clea is the one person in the world I truly can depend on. She will never fail me. I have absolute trust in her. She’s my rock.”

  “Aww. That’s sweet.”

  “Spare me. There’s nothing sweet about trying to survive life. You need one person in your corner.” Sigrid turned around to be face-to-face with Merle again.

  “You can’t be constantly wondering what she’s thinking. You don’t always know, of course. We aren’t mind readers. Nor would I want to be. But you must be convinced that you can trust your lover. No matter what. That includes trusting her to tell you what you need to know even if it isn’t what you want to hear.”

  Merle nodded, remembering all the energy she’d expended trying to figure out where Kay stood or what she was thinking. It seemed even when Kay actually did verbalize something, it might have been a lie.

  “Tell me. When you think you’ve found the next one—and I’m positive there’ll be another one—what will you do differently? We’re not at the stage of life where we can make many Kay-like mistakes.” It wasn’t the first time Merle heard the steel and the reproach in Sigrid’s voice about something. For all her physical softness, she was mentally more hard-edged than Clea, who was a softie from way back, even though she talked tough. It was probably Sigrid’s Scandinavian heritage. Merle thought she was a realist, but she had nothing on Sigrid.

  “I guess you think I’ve recovered enough to hear that.”

  “I would think so. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Mer, but I want you to take a really good look at why you stayed with someone who wasn’t right for you. I know you’re not stupid and you’ve got a great recovery. You missed the signals that we could see. I used to tell Clea, ‘Oh gosh, I really worry about Merle and Kay. I don’t think it’s working.’”

  “I wanted to believe. I loved her so much. When she was there, she was there. Then she wasn’t. The last few years, she kind of just disengaged. I’d ask her, but all she would do would be to make excuses. ‘I’m tired. I have to work this weekend.’ ‘Can’t you go to a meeting or something? You’re nagging me.’ And so forth.”

  “Do you think she was cheating?”

  “Kay?” That just wasn’t anything that made sense. Kay always talked about how much she admired her parents’ happy fifty-year marriage and wanted to emulate it.

  Sigrid looked at her closely, waiting for an answer.

  “Nope. I can’t imagine that. Why? What do you think?”

  “I really can’t say, sweetie. I was never close to Kay. I think she had plenty of other faults without that one.” Sigrid snorted. She was a sardonic one.

  “Yeah. She used to go crazy when I left the top off the toothpaste. She had all these little things she was super rigid and controlling about. Then she’d be totally disengaged. I never knew what to expect.”

  “You put up with it,” Sigrid pointed out.

  “Yup.” Merle sighed. “I know. I wanted to keep things going. Keep the peace.”

  “Someone else was a little codependent.”

  Merle smiled, acknowledging the truth.

  “And your next lover? What will you do different?” Sigrid tilted her head. “What has this experience taught you?” That was one of Sigrid’s big things—experience mattered. Sigrid always said, “I can and do have opinions on everything. We all do. Tell me your experience and I might listen.”

  “She’ll have to meet certain
goals.” Merle laughed.

  “Such as want to have sex with you? Not care if you don’t cap the toothpaste?”

  “Very funny, but that’d be a good start. But more, she’s got to be right out there with her feelings. I want to know what she’s thinking. I don’t want to have to drag it out of her or, as in the case of Kay, be misled.”

  “She did mislead you, didn’t she, though she may not have meant to. I don’t believe she had any idea what she really wanted.”

  “Nope, and my next girl is going to be very, very sure what she wants and who she wants. Me. Marriage. Forever. The whole ball of wax. I’ll get that out of the way right away.”

  “And when will you ask her to marry you? I’d wait until the third date…”

  Merle shoved Sigrid just a bit, but not hard enough to make her fall off the bench. At that moment, Clea appeared.

  “Hey, if you want to throw her off the cliff, the answer is no. Only I get to do that.”

  Sigrid turned around, and Clea bent her head and they kissed tenderly.

  Sigrid eyed the packages and bags Clea carried. “Darling, is there anything left to buy in Mendocino?”

  “Oh, honey, you best believe they’re never gonna run out of junk for tourists to spend money on. I’ve only made a little-bitty dent.”

  “I’ll bet.” Sigrid patted her cheek. “Well, ladies, I think we’ve reached an important decision point. What’s for dinner?”

  Merle said, “How about more seafood?”

  “There’ll never ever be enough seafood for me,” Sigrid said with a theatrical flourish.

  “That’s a fact. She’s spoken. So let’s go drive back to Fort Bragg and head to Noyo Harbor to that little place right at the end of the road under the bridge and practically in the ocean. We can watch the boats cruise in.”

  “Fabulous!” Merle said. “I vote for that.”

  Merle thought about Sigrid’s crack about “Kay-like mistakes.” It was true, and she would most definitely not rush into anything. She wasn’t even thinking about looking anyhow; she was still too raw. It would take some time to shake off the toxic emotional residue left over from Kay. She could be like someone newly sober. The traditional advice to those folks was to not make any big changes for at least a year. That would neatly apply to this breakup. There was no rush. She wouldn’t find another girl for a long time.