Before I leave, the lawyer tells me that he bills $400.00 per hour and needs $15,000 to start.
“How much will the divorce cost?!”
“It all depends on how ugly it gets. It can cost fifty thousand, it can cost a hundred and fifty thousand.”
So I wait and prepare. Sharon is my primary support. She helps me get documents together, agrees to testify for me, and we plan a strategy. I never let Ryan know that I’m going to file for divorce. The less he knows or suspects the better. I smile, engage in pleasant conversation, and try to avoid arguments (which means avoiding Ryan as much as possible.)
I put money away whenever I can. I get money back at the grocery store, withdraw money from the bank and tell Ryan it’s for some other purpose, and I charge things on my credit cards and keep the cash. I manage to save $8,600.00. This will help when I’m on my own.
– CHAPTER 18 –
As soon as I move into my own bedroom, I see a change in Ryan. It’s obvious he’s trying harder. He actually looks like my old husband again—the man who was so sweet and saved me so many years ago. Things that once irritated him, no longer matter. Despite my insistence that he relax and watch television, he helps clean up after meals, especially if it means spending more time together. It’s all so weird. He used to always ask where I was going or what I was doing, and now he doesn’t seem to care. Nothing seems to bother him. I couldn’t start an argument if I tried because he pretty much agrees with everything I say. He’s so pathetic. I could throw a pot of boiling water on him and he’d probably thank me for it.
Two weeks after I saw the lawyer, Ryan comes into the kitchen and asks if we can talk. I always avoid these “can we talk” moments but now the table is cleared, the leftovers are sealed in the refrigerator, the counters are all wiped down, and the dishwasher is humming in the background. Neither the kids, the dishes, nor the laundry can save me.
This conversation is overdue anyway. Perhaps Ryan has come to the same conclusion as me: we need to end this marriage before there’s nothing left but hatred and contempt. I’ll use this opportunity to tell him I’ve talked to a lawyer and try to work out the details of our separation. I’ll demand that we remain calm and I’ll leave at the first sign of an argument.
I walk behind him into the living room, and look for the best place to sit for our talk. Sitting with him on the same couch is only asking for trouble so I take a seat on the living room chair and turn to the couch. This provides a safe distance between us with the coffee table serving as the perfect buffer. From here we can talk everything out like adults. There’s a pen and legal pad in his office so we can sort out all the messy details and get everything down on paper.
All my ideas about the conversation go right out the window when Ryan walks past the couch I reserved for him. He sits on the floor in front of me with his head down on my leg like a scolded puppy dog who just wet on the carpet. I know Ryan almost as well as he knows himself. I’ve never seen him start a “can we talk” session sitting on the floor. No, these talks always begin with him providing a concise layout of the facts like a lawyer presenting his case to a jury. Lately when we have these “conversations” he talks so much that his words ring in my ears. All I can think is, “God will he ever stop talking?” I’m tired of being in this home, I’m tired of taking care of him, and I’m tired of listening to him talk.
Seeing him sitting on the floor with his forehead resting on my knee throws me off. I thought I was ready for everything but I’m not prepared for this. I’m not even sure how to begin so I don’t say anything until he finally looks up at me with his eyes red and filled with tears.
“Faith, I know things haven’t been good lately,” he starts.
“Ryan please don—” I plead, but he puts up his hand to stop me.
“Faith, please … I need to say this. Please let me finish without interrupting.” He wipes his eyes and continues. “Faith, I’ve always loved you. When we met, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. You have a face that belongs on the cover of beauty magazines. Your eyes sparkle such a bright blue. Night after night you told me all about your pain with so much hurt that I hurt for you. I fell in love with you, Faith. I fell in love with all of you – the good and the bad.”
This is not what I expected. I can’t listen without getting emotional. I can feel my throat tighten, my lips quiver, and tears welling up in my eyes. I bite my lip to steady myself as he continues.
“You know, when we were young, it seemed like our marriage could take anything. We’d get into fights and say things that hurt but no matter how big the fight, we’d always promise ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I love you’ and it made up for everything. We did this so many times that it just became our way of handling things. But now I see the damage we caused each other. Our marriage is precious. It’s like a beautiful piece of crystal. It took a scratch here, a ding there, another chip, another crack, and next thing it’s completely broken. I know I’ve made mistakes. There are so many things I’d change if I could. I was so angry when you got pregnant. It clouded everything. We were doing great up to that point, and I messed it all up.”
This all catches me by surprise. It’s the first time he’s apologized for how he treated me after I got pregnant. I’m not sure how to respond. The tear I didn’t want him to see trickles down my cheek. I put my shaking hands on his shoulder.
Feeling my touch, he continues, “Faith, I’m so sorry we got here. I love you. I can’t go back and change what’s already happened but I can spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. First, will you please come down from the guest room and back into our bedroom where you belong?”
I wish his words didn’t affect me but they do. He lays his head back on my lap. Years ago, I would have held him in my arms and told him how much I loved him. I’d have taken him into the bedroom, made love, and started all over again. I’d have thanked God for giving me such a great man. Now things have gone too far. We’ve done the “make up and make love” thing so many times that I know it won’t change anything. I just don’t see any way back.
I put my hands on his head. “Ryan, I can’t. I’m just too hurt.”
“I know. Can we just go to counseling and try to fix this?”
“I just don’t know,” I tell him, caught between two worlds. “Give me some time to think about it.”
He looks right at me with heavy eyes and says, “We can get back what we had if we both just try.”
I get up from the couch, and straighten my sundress that’s wet with tears. “Ryan, this is a lot for me to process. Give me some time.”
I start to walk out of the room but stop and turn around when he says, “Faith, I do love you.”
I go upstairs to my bedroom, close the door, and sit by my nightstand. My Bible is stored inside my pink, yellow, and white flowery cover that reads, “With God all things are possible.” I open it to the middle pages, and pull out the row of four pictures of Paul and me laughing, making funny faces, and kissing in a photo booth. I often talk with Paul on the phone but I rarely get to see him so I have looked at these photos every night since I moved into my own room. I keep them in the last place Ryan would ever think to look.
I stare at the pictures and fall back on my bed. I think about everything Ryan just said. I take one last look at the pictures, put them back in my Bible, and zip it shut. I put my head in my hands and cry for the first time in weeks. I don’t know what to do. Everything Ryan just said is true. We once loved each other as much as a man and woman can be in love. So many times, we put everything bad behind us for the sake of our marriage—for the sake of our kids. Maybe we can do it one more time. I know Ryan can, but can I? I consider the idea of counseling. Maybe Ryan’s right. Maybe a counselor could help us finally deal with the past and handle our problems better.
Over the next two weeks, his words replay over and over in my mind. We haven’t argued in weeks. Without the constant bickering, a calm
has returned between us, and the tension is gone. I don’t live with the same anxiety and depression. I watch him at the dinner table, watching television, working in the yard, and helping the kids with their homework. My resolve to get out of this marriage begins to crumble. The hardest thing is watching him play with our kids. I’m sitting on the couch watching a movie when I look out the window and see them in the pool, laughing, splashing, and playing together. They look so happy. Suddenly, the movie I’m watching shows a couple walking through Central Park right up to the Bethesda Fountain and it hits me like a ton of bricks. I hear the angel’s words again: “I’ve given you everything you need to make you happy … if you don’t screw it up.”
It’s all too much. I can’t go through with it. I won’t turn my whole family upside down. I have nothing to lose by trying one more time, so tonight I’ll tell Ryan that I’m coming back into our bedroom, and I’ll go to a good marriage counselor.
When Ryan and the kids come back inside, I sit at the kitchen table ready to break the news. They walk into the kitchen all dressed in dry clothes. Ryan gives me a subtle smile, and says, “We’re going to get some pizza for dinner. You want anything?”
After they pull out the driveway, I call Sharon to tell her what I’ve decided. She’s taken completely by surprise. “Of course, you’re getting along,” she laughs, “because you’re sleeping apart. Ryan’s only acting like this to stop you from leaving.”
“No, Sharon, I really think things are different this time.”
Sharon isn’t buying it. “Faith, men don’t change. If you drop everything now and go back to his bedroom, things will be okay for a little while and then they’ll go right back to the way they were.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I agree, starting to feel confused again. “But I don’t want to hurt my kids. I don’t want to hurt Ryan.”
“How many times? How many times are you going to forgive and forget before you realize he will never change?”
“I know, Sharon, but I have to give it one more try.”
“Faith, what about Paul? Do you actually think Ryan will ever forgive you for your affair?”
I never call what I have with Paul an affair. When people think of an affair, they think of something wrong and dirty. What I have with Paul isn’t like that at all.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t, but he doesn’t have to know,” I tell her.
“But what if he finds out?” she asks.
“How will he find out?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “But what if he does?”
I’m not exactly sure what she’s trying to say. Would she actually tell Ryan? For the first time, I wish I hadn’t told her about Paul. “I don’t want to even think about it,” I say. “It’d be terrible.”
“Faith, even if he doesn’t find out, you’ll know. You’ll always wonder what could have been; what you could have had. Are you willing to throw away something good for something you know will never work?”
Her words tap into my feelings for Paul. “Sharon, I don’t know what to do. I love Paul. I know it’s not right but I do. I don’t want to hurt him but I don’t want to hurt Ryan or my children either. ”
“Have you prayed about it? Does it feel wrong when you’re with Paul?” she asks.
“No, it feels so good,” I admit.
“Then I think that’s your answer.”
I sit with my head down, playing everything over and over in my mind. I began so sure I was doing the right thing but now it all seems so hopeless.
“What are you thinking?” Sharon asks.
I don’t respond as I consider my next move. I finally look up and say, “I’m so tired. I can’t keep living in this state of limbo.”
“I know, sweetie,” she says. “Change is never easy.”
I sit back in my chair, and take one last deep breath. “Maybe your right. Maybe I’m not being realistic.”
“You know I’m just looking out for you. I only want you to be happy.”
“I know,” I say with my head clear once again. “I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”
***************** PRESENT MOMENT *****************
I’m not a bad person. I’m no better and no worse than anyone else. Sharon was my friend. I’ve had plenty of time to look back on our friendship. I’ve played our conversations over and over again in my mind. Did she always have my best interest at heart? Probably not, but I trusted her and I can’t be faulted for that. If you can’t trust your best friend then who can you trust?
– CHAPTER 19 –
The very next day I hand my lawyer a check for $15,000 out of our joint checking account. For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I file for divorce. The hardest part is to finally tell Ryan. I consider the idea of just letting him find out when he’s served with the papers but that doesn’t seem right. No, I have to tell him myself and I don’t have much time. Any day now, he’ll surely see the money missing from our account.
As soon as he comes home from work, I send the kids upstairs to play.
“Where are the kids?” he asks.
“They’re upstairs. I thought we could talk.”
Back in the living room, I take the same place on the chair but this time he sits on the couch beside me waiting with his hands on his knees, ready to talk. I’ve been waiting all day for this conversation, and I’ve gone over the words again and again.
“Ryan, I’ve thought a lot about things between us,” I begin.
“So have I, Faith. I—”
I raise my hand to stop him. I can’t let this master of words change what I came here to say. The money’s been paid and the die has been cast. I must continue.
“No Ryan … we have to stop fooling ourselves. Our marriage is over.”
Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, and reaches for my hand. “We’ve been getting along so good. I thought you brought me in here to tell me that we can try counseling and give our marriage another chance?”
I shake my head and pull my hand away to make my intentions are clear. “We should’ve gone to counseling ten years ago. Now it’s too late.”
“I don’t believe that,” he says, reaching for me again.
“Don’t,” I say in the sternest voice I can muster without being hateful. “It’s too late, Ryan. It’s just too late.”
“Faith, we can make it work if you’ll only try.”
“There’s just too much water under the bridge. I’m not in love anymore.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve said this to him. He takes a step back and says, “Don’t say that. You don’t mean it,” like I just casually threw it out there without repeating those words over and over in front of a mirror. “You’re just unhappy … I’m unhappy,” he continues.
“I know you’re unhappy,” I agree, putting my hand on his for a brief moment. “I want you to be happy. We both deserve to be happy, and we can’t be happy here.”
Ryan takes a step forward, and looks at me like a light just came on in his head. Seeing the look on his face I can’t help but wonder what idea he’s concocting. Then things take a sudden turn. His face goes pale. “Are you seeing someone else?”
I’d figured this was coming. I know I have to sound convincing. “No!” I shout like I’m so shocked he’d ever accuse me of something so awful. “I would never do that. It’s not about someone else, Ryan. It’s about you and me. We’ve been through too much. I just don’t love you.”
“I don’t believe you. Who are you seeing?” he demands.
“I swear to God,” I declare putting my hand on my heart. “Who do you think I am? I’m a Christian. I’d never do that.”
“Just be honest,” he presses.
“I am being honest. This has been going on for too long. I don’t love you.”
“Faith, you do love me,” he tells me like he’s arguing with a witness on the stand, “and I love you. We’re just going through a hard time right now.”
“No,” I say, beginning to c
ry, “I don’t—”
He shakes his head, and puts his hand on my knee. “I love you and I’ll make this work. I can give you what you need.”
He’s so convincing. If this were earlier in our marriage, we’d be holding each other right now but he’s waited too long and now I’m in love with another man. “It’s too late. It’s too late,” I repeat.
He wipes the tears from my face, and takes my hand. I can feel his hand shaking and see his lips quivering. “I love you … I love you enough for both of us. I’ll make this work.”
I can’t believe my ears. Is this what things have come to? I love you enough for both of us? This is insane. Can he not see how things have changed? I have to put an end to this madness so I pull away from him, stand up from my chair, look directly at him, and yell, “Ryan, I don’t love you. I don’t think I’ve ever loved you. Not the way you need.”
Ryan closes his eyes like he’s trying to shut all my words out. I’m sure they’re a dagger in his heart. It’s the meanest thing I’ve ever said but I had to do something. Tears fill his heavy eyes. and the first one runs down his cheek. Another falls from the other cheek.
I can’t back down now. “We rushed this from the very beginning. You begged me to move in with you.”
At any other time in our marriage, he would have jumped to his feet, pounced on my words like a lion on his prey, and set me straight. Now he pleads for truth like it’s the highest calling of man. “Faith,” he says in a reasoned voice, “you’re not being honest. You were working as a waitress with no car and no money. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. No one begged you to do anything.”
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 10
