A Brave Start

by Andrea J Severson

  “That’s pretty far from your dad, did you visit regularly?”

  “All the major school breaks, a week in the fall around Thanksgiving, one week of Christmas break, usually for New Year’s, a week for spring break, and then a month in the summer,” Eleanor rattled off, as if reading from a court decree. Bitterness tinged her voice.

  Hesitantly, “Spending your breaks in somewhere like Manhattan must have been fun though?” Patrick asked as he began the preparations for the meal he was making.

  “Well, some of them were still when dad was in Cambridge, and that was fun, because I still had friends there. Manhattan was ok I guess, I could go to the library or wander around Central Park, or in the winter when it was freezing I could get lost in Macy’s.”

  “But what about spending time with your dad?” Patrick asked.

  “Oh. Well, he was often busy, grading papers, writing journal articles or his books, preparing conference papers, meeting with his teaching assistants…” Eleanor’s voice trailed off, and a strange expression that Patrick couldn’t quite read came over her face.

  Trying to change the subject, “And how did you and your mom end up in Arizona? That’s a bit far from Cambridge.”

  Eleanor gave Patrick a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nearly opposite sides of the country. Phoenix was like another planet compared to Cambridge. Cambridge is more like England, bigger than Oxford but definitely not a huge city like London. Mom was a bit...adrift when she and dad got divorced. I was thirteen, I still don’t know all the details. I was too young at the time, and once I was older, I didn’t want to stir up all the old pain with my mom. I know she wasn’t happy, even at thirteen I could tell their marriage wasn’t like the marriages of some of my friends. But Jonathan’s parents had gotten divorced a couple years prior, so had the parents of a girl I knew at school, so it wasn’t a strange concept. I think my mom had been trying to keep the family together for me. I overheard them arguing one night and my dad said something about not being able to wait another five years to end things. I think mom had been trying to get him to wait until I was eighteen and going to college. I definitely got the feeling at the time of the divorce, from what snippets of conversations and arguments I could eavesdrop on that the divorce was definitely my dad’s decision in the end, he couldn’t wait to end the marriage.

  “The divorce was awful, truly horrific. I can’t imagine what it had been like for my mom, because I know I was being shielded from the vast majority of the horror show. My dad was paying child support but no alimony, despite the fact that mom’s career had never really taken off. She and dad had met in grad school. They were both pursuing a PhD in English Literature, dad was 19th century British Lit and mom was Modern American. I gather it was terribly romantic at the time. They graduated at the same time, both with honors, dad was offered a place at Harvard, which was a huge deal. So mom followed. She tried getting jobs but nothing ever worked out for her at Harvard and eventually she took a very unprestigious job at a small public college outside of Cambridge. It feels terribly unfair when I think about it now, but mom was in love and dad was full of what turned out to be false promises,” Eleanor said bitterly.

  “When they got divorced mom only had the one college position and only a handful of conference presentations and research projects, and only a few publications. Once she’d had me she’d become more of a part time academic. She thought she was doing it for her husband and family. But suddenly she was divorced, with a teenager, and a job that couldn’t support us on our own, even with child support from dad, in a town like Cambridge. To be honest, my dad was a major asshole about it all. He insisted on splitting everything 50/50. I had been going to a really good private school but the fees were astronomical. Mom couldn’t afford even a fifth of the cost on her own, let alone half. My riding lessons, piano lessons, extra French and math tutoring, dad would only cover half. Child support only covered the rent on the small apartment mom rented for us, mom had to cover all other expenses. My new school was nowhere near as good as my old one and all the extra tutoring and after school activities and lessons stopped, it was a mess.

  “While they were married he was happy to pay for everything, it kept up the appearance of what a happy Harvard family should look like. I think he knew that by not helping to support me more than what the court mandated, which his bastard of a divorce attorney made sure was as low as possible, mom would be forced to leave Cambridge. I later heard through some of my friends that he lied and told their parents that my mom wanted to leave and had deliberately taken me away from him. Heaven forbid his colleagues realize what a jerk he was.

  “Anyway, mom and I couldn’t afford to stay in the Cambridge area but mom didn’t have a job anywhere else. There was talk about moving to England, to live with my aunt, mom’s sister, and my cousin, but dad went to the court and mom was forbidden from taking me out of the country, even though it’s the about the same flight time from Cambridge to London as it is from Cambridge to Phoenix. He was just trying to make life difficult.

  “Thankfully, mom’s lawyer managed to keep the court from preventing mom and I from leaving the state. I don’t think dad realized that nothing would stop my aunt from helping us. Thank god for my Aunt Victoria. She swept in like a hurricane of love and support and whisked me and mom, away to Arizona. Aunt Vickie had a house in Paradise Valley that she used in the winters to escape the English cold and as a show home for her southwest and west coast clients. It was like a fairy godmother had appeared and saved us. We went from living in this tiny one bedroom apartment outside of Cambridge to staying in my aunt’s 5,000 square foot, Tuscan style mansion with a four car garage, movie room, and giant pool in the back yard. We’d always visited Aunt Vickie and Jonathan in England or New York, I’d never seen the Arizona house before. My aunt had always been successful, even before her marriage, and then with my uncle’s support she built her career even more. During my parent’s marriage, our families never felt that different from each other, but after the divorce the reality of my aunt’s wealth was hard to ignore. But through it all, she was nothing but love and support for my mom and I, her generosity was absolute, there was no arguing with it. She was determined to help mom and I, no matter what and no matter how long we needed help. I know my mom felt guilty occasionally but Aunt Vickie, and even my uncle were so adamant about helping us. They were horrified how my dad was treating my mom and me. Their divorce hadn’t been a walk in the park but it was nothing compared to what my dad did in court. Through all of their help, we were never made to feel like we were the poor relations or anything like out of a Jane Austen novel or something.

  “We had a place to stay, for as long as we needed, mom was able to take her time finding a job, eventually she got lucky and was hired as Chair of the English department at a local community college, and Aunt Vickie helped her get into some consulting work on the side, over the years mom not only recovered from the initial financial damage of the divorce but now she’s doing better than ever with her career. We bought a house in north Phoenix, I finished high school, went to college, visited dad when I had to, he didn’t insist on alternating holidays once we moved but he did insist on the longer breaks from school, like spring break or winter break, and one month in the summer. Though I don’t know why he insisted on the visits. Eventually I stopped. I was in college, legally I could do what I wanted, he never paid attention to me when I visited, and then the last time I went to Manhattan…well, it wasn’t good. I haven’t visited, or seen him since.”

  A heavy silence hung in the air as Patrick finished cooking and quietly brought the plates with their dinner over to the table and sat down. He couldn’t take his eyes off Eleanor as she finished her story and as he watched a tear slip down her cheek he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her.

  Looking up at him, and seeing the look of grave concern on his face, Eleanor blushed. “I don’t know why I just told you all of that,” she cried, trying to laug
h while reaching up to wipe the tears that were now flowing more freely.

  “Maybe you needed to. Have you shared that story with many people?”

  “No! God, no. Not even my ex-boyfriend knew all of that.”

  “Really?” Patrick asked, sounding surprised. “How long were you together?”

  “Oh no, I’ve spilled my guts enough this evening, you’re not getting any more personal information out of me tonight,” Eleanor said defiantly, trying to laugh it off as a joke.

  “Fair enough,” Patrick replied. “I hope you know you can tell me anything, I won’t judge and I won’t share your stories. Sometimes it helps talking to people,” he said gently.

  Feeling deflated and even more exhausted, “I know. Thank you for listening. And I do talk about it. But only really to Jonathan. We both know how it feels to have divorced parents, though his dad is actually a really decent man, unlike mine,” she said bitterly.

  “Well, I’m always happy to listen. Or provide a distraction. Whatever you need.”

  Smiling at him, “Please distract me, I’m tired of talking about myself and my miserable past. And these bangers and mash smell delicious. No more of my sad life.”

  “Alright then,” Patrick replied with a gentle smile.

  As they ate dinner Patrick kept Eleanor entertained with stories from the set of his last film and the antics of his crazy costars. Eleanor felt herself relax and Patrick was relieved to see her smile return and her eyes brighten. After a while, Patrick asked her about teaching and Eleanor shared some of her crazier stories from the classroom and the silly things her students would do.

  “I still couldn’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “When I called him out on watching football on the computer classrooms, his response was to close the blinds of the window behind him so the screen wouldn’t reflect off the window! Little jerk.”

  “Wow, kids these days,” Patrick responded dumbfounded.

  “Oh, these aren’t kids. These are 18 and 19-year-old adults. Shame their parents don’t bother to treat them that way. I swear, they’re over-managed throughout high school and then they get to my college classroom and don’t know how to behave like the adults they legally are. It’s so obnoxious,” Eleanor said with disdain. “But most of them are decent enough, so I’ve kept doing it. Honestly, I do love it, and I love my students, even when they’re totally ridiculous. But the salary wasn’t enough to live on, and when my ex and I broke up, it seemed like a good time to try something new.”

  “So, who is this ex? And how did he let you get away?” Patrick asked with genuine curiosity. Noticing Eleanor’s smile drop, he quickly said, “Never mind, you don’t have to answer that, I forgot I was supposed to distract you, not pester you with personal questions.”

  “No, it’s alright,” Eleanor said quietly. “Michael’s not my favorite subject these days. I still don’t understand how foolish I was, I wasted so much time, years of my life, that in the end meant nothing.”

  “It must have meant something to you, that’s not nothing,” Patrick said gently. “And if that wasn’t enough for him, then he’s the fool.”

  “Thank you. He wasn’t a horrible person. But he just never cared for me as much as I cared for him. We broke up for a bit and then he asked for another chance. But honestly, I think he liked the idea of a relationship more than he actually cared about me. We met at our favorite Italian place for dinner, and I thought he might propose, instead he broke up with me. This time I knew it was for real.”

  “And what about that guy you mentioned, Mark?”

  “We’re just friends,” Eleanor said, a bit quickly. Sighing, “He wants more, and I’m flattered, he’s a great guy and a good friend of my cousin. But I just can’t get involved with someone right now. I can’t,” she finished, sounding almost defiant.

  “Why not?” Patrick asked gently. He knew he was treading on fragile ground with Eleanor, he didn’t want her to clam up again, but he couldn’t help himself.

  Raising her eyes to meet his, Eleanor could see that there was no dark motive in Patrick’s question, just honest curiosity, so she took a deep breath and replied, slowly, “I feel like I lost myself with Michael. I wasn’t myself, I was ‘Michael’s girlfriend.’ I only had a couple friends of my own, most of the people we hung out with regularly were his friends. He never liked the topic of me going back to school or looking for a serious job, because he liked how much time I had to spend with him when he was free. Looking back I can see now how much of my life revolved around him. And at the time I felt justified. Every now and then we would talk about marriage and starting a family. It was always hypothetical but it still felt real, like it was part of the long-term plan. So I thought I was waiting for a reason. Then it was over, and I’d invested years of my life in a guy and a plan that was never going to happen. His life was just fine, he had all he needed, but I was the one who was still working two part-time jobs and living with my mother. It’s almost like…I guess…I almost repeated what happened to my mom.

  “Coming to London, starting this MFA program, it allowed me to take my life back, to figure out who I am. Without a guy, without being the sad girl with no real job who lives with her mom. I mean, I’m far from rich but I’m lucky my mom can help me and that my aunt continues to be exceedingly generous and is allowing me to live in the Holborn flat with my cousin. Who knows what will happen at the end of the year. But with Mark it was getting too serious, too fast. He doesn’t know me. He can’t, because I barely know me anymore. I just feel like I need to figure myself out before I can get involved with someone else. I need to trust myself again.”

  “What do you mean, ‘trust’ yourself?”

  “I chose to stay with Michael all those years. I chose to get back together with him after he broke up with me the first time. I chose to stay with him after we got back together even though it became increasingly clear that nothing had really changed, and probably wasn’t going to. I held on to dreams and fantasies of a life that would never be. That’s on me. I can’t blame Michael for everything, because the red flags were there, I just didn’t want to see them. I need to figure out who I am and what I want for me before I can get involved with someone else. Mark doesn’t seem to understand that. He’d rather wait around for me to be ready, but I don’t want that. I just want to be friends. I don’t want any complications,” she said firmly.

  “I think what you’re doing is incredibly brave, and smart. And Mark, or any man, who would try to rush you into something you’re not ready for is an idiot. I won’t lie to you Eleanor, I fancy you. A lot. But listening to you this evening, you’re right. You need to figure out who you are and what you want. Any man who would rush you through that doesn’t deserve you. I hope we can be friends, because I really do enjoy spending time with you, and I promise, you’ll get no pressure from me. Though, I must admit, if you decide one day that you might be able to fancy me as well, I’d be delighted,” he finished with a smile.

  Smiling back at him, “You really are wonderful Mr. Reynolds, do you know that?”

  Laughing at her mock formality, and echoing it, “For you Miss Gordon, I will always endeavor to deserve that compliment.”

  They smiled at each other, and sat in the quiet kitchen for a bit, just enjoying each other’s company. Eventually they cleaned up the dishes from dinner, Patrick washed while Eleanor dried, and then Eleanor changed back into her, now dry, clothes. Patrick called a taxi and took her home.

  As the taxi pulled up in front of Eleanor’s flat, Patrick turned to her.

  “Would you have dinner with me again? This time, planned and proper, in a restaurant. Just as friends, I promise.”

  Eleanor smiled and quickly agreed, “Dinner would be nice. Just let me know when.”

  “Ok, I’ll check my schedule and call you tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Let me walk you up,” Patrick said, moving to get out of the cab.

  “Oh no, don’t worry about it. But thank you
. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Eleanor said firmly.

  Noting the defiant independence in her voice, Patrick relented. He quickly leaned over in the cab and gave Eleanor a quick peck on the cheek, and then reached across her to open the door, “Talk to you tomorrow then,” he said with a smile.

  Grinning at him and shaking her head slightly, Eleanor slipped out of the cab and walked quickly up the stairs to the front door of the building, letting herself in. Patrick watched her enter the building before allowing the cabbie to pull away.

  Chapter 12

  Eleanor was still smiling to herself, as she let herself into the flat, and thinking about what a crazy day it had been and how amazing Patrick was turning out to be. Once inside she immediately heard voices in the lounge. As she walked in her smile faltered slightly when she saw Mark sitting on the sofa with Jonathan. She immediately plastered her smile back on as the men turned to look up at her in the doorway.

  “You’re home! I was worried about you when the storm started, where have you been?” Jonathan asked with concern.

  Dropping her bakery purchases on the table and shrugging off her coat, “I went to that bakery in Belgravia your mom mentioned. I got caught up in the storm and...um,” Eleanor suddenly didn’t want to tell them, or Mark at least, that she’d spent all afternoon in Patrick’s flat, wearing Patrick’s bathrobe. “I managed to duck into a coffee shop and got lost in my writing,” she fibbed, knowing she’d tell Jonathan the truth eventually.

  “It’s nice to see you Eleanor,” Mark said quietly.

  “Nice to see you as well Mark,” Eleanor said with a brightness she didn’t quite feel. “You two having a nice time?”

  “Actually,” Jonathan said cautiously, “Mark arrived an hour ago to talk to you.”

  “If that’s alright?” Mark asked, sounding equally cautious.

  Looking between the two men, Jonathan looking unsure and Mark looking hopeful, “Sure,” Eleanor agreed. “That’s fine.”