Lowering myself down onto the couch in the spot where Dave would have sat looking at our photos, I became surrounded by images of myself.
On our wedding day. Walking hand in hand with Dave down the aisle just after we had said our vows. All the guests in the pews were standing and clapping, smiles coloring their faces, but my focus was on my new husband who had leaned in close and whispered into my ear.
“Wow, I get to do it with a married lady tonight. That’s so hot!” he had said just as we passed by my ninety-six-year-old great aunt.
I had laughed and blushed just before the picture was snapped, forever capturing our private moment. When we had gotten the proofs back, I had told my mother we were laughing because Dave had pointed out Aunt Ruth’s hideous orange feathered hat.
Dave had always loved the picture. He said he loved that when he made me laugh, my eyes twinkled like the brightest stars.
But I loved the picture because of the way it captured just how he could always make me laugh.
Searching the table, I picked up an uncrumpled napkin that looked fairly fresh and dabbed at my eyes before focusing on the next album.
The second my eyes rested on the photos, an ache settled in my chest. The pictures were just me this time; several frames of me bottle-feeding an impossibly small gray kitten. My face showed deep concern as I held the tiny bottle, watching intently as the kitten reluctantly suckled, stray drops of formula trickling out of the sides of his mouth.
Dave had found him in the alley behind his apartment building and had brought the poor thing home, desperate to try to save him. Regardless of the fact that I had been in the middle of studying for finals in my last year of college, I had taken over the care of the little abandoned kitten, calling a vet for advice, running out to find formula and a bottle small enough and preparing a warm, blanketed shoebox to hold him in.
Every two hours, day and night I was roused by the plaintive mews coming from the folded hand towels inside the shoebox, telling me it was feeding time. I mixed and warmed formula trying to coax the sickly kitten to eat. It was a futile process. After four days of caring for the kitten, I came home from a shift at my part time job to find Dave sobbing over the shoebox.
We cried together for the rest of the night in each other’s arms.
I turned away from the album, soaking the paper napkin with my tears as I wept. Dave had been so crushed when that little kitten had died, it was like he’d lost a child. And now he had lost a child; any hope of ever having a child with the woman who had promised him a family. I had ripped his dreams apart.
I buried my face in my hands, my shame and guilt overwhelming.
“Vic? What are you doing here?”
I almost choked on my own saliva as I lifted my head to see my husband standing in the front hall, his keys dangling from his fingers.
Swiping at my tears with my sleeve, I tried to pull myself together. I was not at all successful. “I just…” I began, but was interrupted by a hiccup. I jerked my thumb towards the bedroom. “I need some clothes, I got a job.”
Dave swallowed visibly as his brow creased. He forced a smile to his face. “That’s great, Babe.”
It was nearly impossible to look him in the eye. Absently I picked up the discarded napkins and put them into the empty wing container. “I’m sorry for busting in here.”
“Vicky, stop cleaning up my mess. And don’t be sorry, this is your home.”
No, it’s not. This will never be my home again.
“Dave?” I said his name like I had so many millions of times before but never with so much emotion hanging on the moment after it left my lips.
He closed the door and came over to sit beside me on the couch. “Yeah, Babe?”
“I think we need to talk.” He was beside me, but I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact. I trained my eyes at his chest, noticing for the first time the large coffee stain, obvious on his starched white shirt.
Dave exhaled loudly but said nothing.
I looked anywhere but at him. “I think we need to move on. And I think that means deciding what we’re doing with the house and everything.”
I was sure this was not what Dave was hoping to hear, but ever stoic, he nodded as I continued.
“I want to make this as easy as possible.”
“You can have everything,” Dave blurted out.
“Don’t say that, Dave.”
“I’m serious, I don’t want anything. If I can’t have you, none of this matters to me.”
It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but in truth, I felt the same way. It was the reason why it had been so easy for me to leave the house and most of my belongings behind. Most couples fought over wanting everything, we were going to fight over wanting nothing. But we had never been like most couples.
“Dave, this is silly. Maybe we’re not ready to have this conversation.”
He shook his head and took a deep breath before speaking. “No, I think you’re right. I’ve been wallowing in denial.”
I thought about my current accommodations. “I think we both have. But I think it’s time to get serious. I can’t sleep on Jen’s couch forever.”
Dave nodded. “I can’t keep living on take-out. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m dying for a home cooked meal. One of your home-cooked meals.”
Which was saying a lot since I’d never been anything of a gourmet. How could I help but smile? I looked up at my husband, pardon me, soon to be ex-husband and said the stupidest thing possible. “I could stick around and cook you dinner tonight.”
Dave’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Maybe it was unwise, but the thought of cooking Dave dinner felt like the most right thing I’d done in weeks. “Yeah, I’d like that. There’s no reason why we can’t hang out.” But there were so many reasons. I knew deep down it wasn’t a good idea, but the words had fallen out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“That would be nice, Vic. I’d really like that.” His relieved smile made my heart jump.
I swallowed and looked down at the garbage cluttering the coffee table. I’ll tidy up a bit.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” It was true; it would be nice to have something productive to do. My brain and body were beginning to atrophy over on Jen’s couch. Even just the thought of starting a new job held so much relief and excitement. The new job, the reason I had come. “I’ve gotta go through my clothes anyway, so it will be nothing to throw something in the oven.”
“Well, I really appreciate it, Vic. Don’t do whatever you don’t want to, it’s my mess, you shouldn’t have to clean it up.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit, I’ve gotta go. I just came home to get a clean shirt, but I’ve got a patient in ten minutes.”
I grinned at Dave as he got up off the couch, peeled off his coat and jogged towards the bedroom.
With a heavy sigh, I lifted myself up off the couch and began to pile the takeout containers together so I could carry them to the kitchen. Dave was back in less than two minutes, still buttoning up his new, crisply pressed shirt, thanks to the dry cleaners.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he grabbed his coat, slipping his arms into it and pulling it over his strong shoulders. As I was reminiscing about how I used to rub his stiff shoulders after long days of dental surgery, he leaned in and kissed me on the mouth. He quickly retreated once he realized what he had done.
I held my breath as we froze in place, staring at each other.
“Sorry. Old habit.”
I waved him off. “It’s okay, you’d better get back to work.”
But it wasn’t okay. It was the furthest thing from okay.
Chapter 11
Once Dave left I felt better, albeit apprehensive, about our impending dinner together. What had I been thinking?
Our relationship had always been effortless and now it seemed so awkward. Would there ever be a time when we could be at ease with one another? Would
we ever be able to just hang out and joke around? That’s what I missed most.
I began by tidying up. Being productive was a great way to clear my brain and not have to overthink the difficult conversation which would undoubtedly accompany dinner. So I cranked up the stereo and started in on the kitchen.
There weren’t many dishes to put into the dishwasher other than a few cereal bowls and spoons, but the house did need a good cleaning and some serious airing out. Despite the early winter chill, I opened up a couple of windows to let out the musty smell of dorm room.
The bathroom especially had the look of bachelorhood about it and sucked over an hour out of my afternoon.
Once the house was to a point where I considered it livable, I began to plan for dinner.
Looking in the fridge, I realized there was little salvageable other than a few condiments, so off to the supermarket I went. I bought for more than just the evening; I spent over two hundred dollars to make sure he had a well-stocked pantry. That should last him a while, but after that, he would have to be on his own.
I pushed that thought out of my head as I then decided to stop at the bank and open my own bank account: the first real sign of independence. And it was a practical idea since having a new job necessitated an account where they could directly deposit the funds. This would be my own money: earned after the split, and putting it in a joint bank account didn’t make much sense.
“I’m very sorry, but I can’t open a bank account if you don’t have a current address.” The banker, in her mid-thirties and sporting a dowdy bob haircut and a very apologetic smile, stared at me, waiting for some sort of response. I stared back at her, not really having one. I didn’t have an address.
Then it hit me: Oh my God, I’m homeless. I said it out loud.
She just continued to stare, although her blinking increased in speed and frequency.
I felt it necessary to explain, “Well, I’m not homeless homeless. I just split from my husband and I’m staying at a friend’s.”
She nodded, obviously thinking I was insane, although she did look relieved. She shouldn’t have worried; we were, after all, in the suburbs.
“Do you have a place lined up? I can use your new address…”
I shook my head, feeling like an idiot. I was in my thirties, how embarrassing that I couldn’t even get a bank account? I looked at her nametag: Anna Sibley, Personal Banker.
“I’m very embarrassed, Anna, but I’m afraid I really don’t have anything worked out just yet. Perhaps I should get my shit together and then I’ll be back.” I reached for my purse and stood up out of the chair; the faster I could get out of there, the better.
“I’m really sorry,” Anna said, sticking her hand towards me.
I shook it, noting her firm banker’s handshake. “Please don’t be. I’ll be back.”
I left the bank, got into my SUV and proceeded to have a very teary meltdown right there in the parking lot. Thank God for tinted windows. The only thing that brought me back to reality was the knowledge of a trunk full of frozen foods waiting to be put into Dave’s freezer.
Grabbing a Kleenex out of the console, I dabbed at my eyes, blew my nose and headed back to Dave’s place to do what would probably turn out to be my last wifely duty.
* * *
Dinner was nice, really nice, and not just because Dave gushed over my culinary skills (not surprising considering what he’d been eating since I’d left). It was nice to feel like a couple again, even if we were just pretending. I think we both knew we were treading a dangerous line but it felt so comfortable to be in the company of someone I had considered my best friend for so many years. The Big Bang Theory was on the television, making it feel like old times, but neither of us was really paying attention.
“So do you want to hear about my new job,” was my opener once we were seated, each of us with a plate of chicken parmesan and pasta in front of us on our respective TV tables. (It was not a fancy dinner, but one of Dave’s favorites).
Dave looked over at me and smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes, which were shadowed with strain. I could only guess what was going on at the dental office in my sudden and permanent absence. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s at Zoë’s office. I start tomorrow.” I shrugged, realizing in that moment there wasn’t much else to tell him.
“Is it what you want?” He asked, fork midway to his mouth.
I looked at him, fighting the sudden knot in my throat. “Is it what I want? I haven’t got a clue what I want. I thought I knew, but now it’s all upside down.”
He looked down at his plate, nodding. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant is the job what you want to do?”
I took a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry, I knew what you meant. I’m just…” I felt bad for attacking him. This wasn’t his fault, but it was hard not to be on edge. “I think it will be okay for now. I’m not sure exactly what kind of job I want long term; if I want to go to another dental office or what.”
“I could ask around if you like,” Dave suggested. “I’ve got a symposium at the end of the month…”
I shook my head. “I could do without the gossip.” I stuck out my chest and batted my eyelashes like so many of Dave’s clients. “‘Hey, did you know Dr. Blumenfeld’s wife is looking for a new job? I guess he finally gave her the boot. Oh that Dr. Blumenfeld, what a hottie! Oh, look, I might have a cavity…Dr. Blumenfeld, can you fill my cavity?’
Dave laughed at my ridiculous imitation, but I was sure the rumor mill was already abuzz with the news of our split. The single moms had to be flocking in for unnecessary treatments. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll see what else I can find. But for now, the job at the real estate office will be fine. It’s part-time.”
“That’s good.” He took a drink and turned back so he was facing the television. “The girls miss you at the office; I’m starting to think our zero staff turnover was more because of you than my dashing good looks.”
I snorted. “Yeah, whatever,” I said out loud, but inside, my stomach lurched. I had loved my job, really and truly. And all of the girls at the practice had been a big part of it. I looked over at Dave, watching him shovel the food into his mouth as though he’d been denied food for the weeks since I’d left. I couldn’t help but smile, even despite the sadness I felt.
* * *
After dinner, although Dave vehemently protested, I took our plates into the kitchen and opened up the garbage to scrape off the remains of the food before stacking them into the dishwasher. Well, scrape off the remaining food from my plate: Dave’s had practically been licked clean.
Without warning, Dave snuck up behind me, scaring the shit out of me when he whispered into my ear. “I really loved dinner.”
I spun around and suddenly found myself in his arms, knowing with every atom of my body that it was wrong, but at the same time, I craved having his arms around me again. Before I could put a stop to it (even if I had wanted to) his lips were on mine, bringing me home with his kiss. His hands slid down my back and I pulled him closer, almost frantic in my need to erase the memory of the illicit one night stand from my memory, replacing it with an image filled with solace and love.
But as we kissed and I felt him go hard against me, a nagging seed of doubt began to grow, becoming larger and harder to ignore with every passing second. His lips moved down to my neck and I opened my eyes to stare over at the fridge where months ago he had put up a picture of a baby he had found in a magazine. “Isn’t he the cutest baby?” he’d said, beaming over the clipping. “I know our baby would be even cuter.”
“Oh, God Vicky, I’ve missed you. I love you so much,” Dave whispered into my ear; his voice providing sunshine and food for the germinating doubt.
I pushed him away. Again. “Dave, I can’t do this.” I stared into his bewildered eyes, desperate for him to know it was difficult for me too.
And in that second, I broke his heart for the second time. He stared at me, raw sorrow
in his eyes.
I broke the gaze first, looking down at my socks. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I started this. Vic, I am so sorry, I just don’t know how this is supposed to work.”
Looking up at him, I couldn’t help but touch his face. I wiped away his tears with my thumb. “I don’t either. It’s so important that we stay friends, but it just makes it harder.”
He nodded.
“I should go.” I turned to leave.
“Don’t go, I didn’t mean to drive you away.” His tone was desperate, echoing how I felt.
The words came fast and I blurted them out, trying to race the tears. “I can’t stay. I want nothing more than to stay here and make love with you and fall asleep in your arms, but I can’t. We need to not do this or neither of us will be able to move on with our lives.”
I took a chance and glanced at him: he was nodding as he cried. I threw my purse into the laundry basket full of my clothes and slid my feet into my shoes, not even bothering to tie the laces as I bolted out from what used to be my home.
Chapter 12
It had been a long, long time since I’d started a new job. So when I woke up and realized I would be doing just that at an office where I basically knew no one (Zoë worked mostly from home and in her car), the stomach butterflies began to flutter.
Jen was fully entrenched in her normal daily routine of rushing around, trying to get ready to leave in reasonable time: something that was almost never accomplished.
“Oh for fuck sakes,” she said for the third time. “Can’t anything go right today?”
I looked up from my makeshift bed on her couch to see her scowling at a glob of yogurt that had fallen onto her favorite purple silk blouse. “I’ve got a fucking meeting with the director this morning; do you think I could manage not to look like an idiot?”
I kept my peace, having learned that saying almost anything while Jen was in her whirlwind of morning chaos would just set her off.
Life, Sideways Page 7
