by Kaira Rouda
The teapot screeched and Sarah hurried to take it off the stove, using a pot holder to pour the steaming water into her cup. She had believed the fairy tale herself, had believed in her husband and his need for so much time away, because she was a trusting, honest person. Now she knew just how wrong she was about so many things. She thought she knew what it was like to have sex with the man who loved you more than anyone else in the world. But now she knew he had been acting, fake sex to make a baby and occasional fake sex through the years to keep her from guessing something was wrong. She had thought after Ashley went away to college, she’d travel the world with her husband, seeing all the places he had already been without her. She thought she knew what love was between a man and a woman. But now she realized she didn’t know anything at all.
Sarah shook her head and took a sip of tea. She would call Jud today and tell him to arrange for a moving van to remove all of his belongings. She would call a Realtor and start getting an idea of how much she could sell this overdone showcase home for and what she could afford to buy in return. She would call her accountant and make sure he had everything he needed. And she would go play her tennis match today, the final one of the season, because she needed it. She needed to hit something and the little yellow ball was perfect.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tuesday, December 16
JUD
He hadn’t wanted things to turn out this way, of course. But as with most juicy bits of gossip, the fact of his sexuality began to leak out, drop by drop. Jud didn’t know if Sarah was behind it. It could have easily been a nosy nurse, listening to his confession in the hospital, or a patient who thought he and Tom acted, well, too close. It no longer mattered how the word had spread. Just as he’d ruined Sarah’s life, or so she had told him, his in Crystal Beach was over. It wasn’t because of his sexuality; he knew people would accept him no matter what. The lies are what ruined him, he knew. The shiny wrapping paper that packaged his life had been ripped open, revealing an empty box of his deceit. It was time for him to move, and move on.
It had been easy to hand his practice over to Brad Bennett, the weasel, and join the practice Brad had been about to affiliate with in Miami. That was because Jud had orchestrated the entire thing, smoothed the way for his nemesis, writing his recommendations personally. So when Jud himself called the head of the practice and told him he’d like to join them instead, the man was speechless. And then ecstatic.
After Sarah called him and ordered him to clear everything out of his house two weeks ago, he’d been left with a moving van full of belongings and nowhere to put them. He had moved quickly, buying the place without seeing it, and now his clothing hung in his master bedroom closet and his desk and chair from his home office were placed in the new office in his new house. Everyone in his department, everyone in his new neighborhood, believed his elegant five-bedroom home in Coral Gables was just standing at the ready, anxious to welcome his lovely wife and daughter. Jud hadn’t told them yet that his family would never be joining him.
He knew Sarah was finished. He knew he’d never see her or speak to her again unless it was with a lawyer or Ashley as an intermediary. An attorney had served him divorce papers. She’d covered her bases, that was for sure. She had the best attorney in Orange County. Jud had fired the jerk he’d originally hired and retained one of his friends who he’d confessed everything to and now he felt better, more at peace with dismantling his perfectly crafted life. Half of everything was what Sarah deserved, and he’d give it to her. That left more than enough for him.
Jud stretched and walked outside to his new backyard, this one overlooking a pollen-encrusted pond and some golf hole or another. It was scorching hot outside already and it was only eight in the morning. And it was December. Welcome to South Florida. He was going to die a slow and hot death here. He’d be wasting away where only alligators were meant to live. No, he told himself. His career would rebound and he’d get back on the speaking circuit, find a new talent agent, one from New York. He was Jud Nelson, he was in demand, no matter his relationship status.
He thought of Ashley, his beautiful perfect Ashley. She was his finest creation, his pride and joy. And now she was living her life in California and he was here, with the alligators, as far removed from her life as he could possibly be. When he had walked into her room to tell her the truth, after Sarah forced him to come out to her just before he’d left town, he sensed she’d already known. Maybe he was kidding himself, but she had welcomed him with her open arms and warm smile, calling him daddy and demonstrating her remarkable resilience. Ashley was the reason he wanted to be married in the first place, having a child had meant everything to him. And he’d always be her dad. Ashley was his future, he realized. And that was all good.
Jud had sat on the edge of her bed, dropping his head into his hands, unable to meet her gaze.
“I just want to know how that leaves us. You and me?” Ashley had said. “Are we somehow different now?”
Jud had raised his face from his hands and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “No. God. I hope not. I want us to be the same, our relationship to be as strong as ever. I love you, Peanut, so much,” he had said, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “You are my one and only baby girl.”
“And you’re my one and only Daddy,” Ashley had said. “I’m so glad the truth is out. You guys seemed so unhappy below the surface of all this.” She threw her hands open to encompass her oceanfront room, her walk-in closet, their lives filled with stuff. “Now I know why everything always seemed too good to be true. It was.” Then her baby blue eyes had filled with tears, over what they were discussing and all the things they weren’t. Jud had wondered what else he should say, what there was left to explain. She was a beautiful, brilliant girl who had just learned her father was gay. And yet, she had still called him Daddy.
“Thank you, Ashley, so much,” Jud had said. “Do you have any questions for me, anything I can explain to you?”
His daughter had looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t get how this whole thing works, I guess. If you knew you liked guys, why did you marry Mom?”
“Because I loved her. Because I knew she’d be a great mother and a perfect wife. I was raised in a strict fundamentalist Christian household. You never knew my parents, thank God. Gays were sinners, going straight to hell.” Jud had stood then, walking to the wall of glass overlooking the ocean. “So I suppressed who I was. I thought I could keep it that way for the rest of my life. I didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to deny my true identity. I wanted a real family and a real life, not what was available to gay men back then,” Jud had said. He had turned his back to the ocean and walked back to where Ashley sat on the bed. “As myself, I felt like the world was closed tight to me. But as a ‘normal’ guy anything was possible. This. Our life here was possible, especially with your mom by my side.”
Ashley had looked up at him, the sadness in her eyes piercing his soul but he had forced himself to meet her gaze. “But what about Mom in all of this? You were only her second boyfriend,” Ashley had said. Her voice was quiet. It was as if she were channeling Sarah, but without Sarah’s newfound anger and backbone. “You kissed her, made me with her, but actually loved men?”
Well, yes, he had. But it wasn’t that simple. It was his family of origin, religious fanatics that had told him the evils of homosexuality for as long as he could remember, never guessing one of those individuals sat at their kitchen table every night at supper. It was sweet, understanding Sarah who was the first person to really listen to him, the first person he opened up to about almost everything. She had been his first true friend and confidante. Their kisses were sweet, their love-making gentle and purposeful in the beginning, to conceive the child that would become the center of both of their lives. And that had been enough for Sarah. She’d loved being a mom. That was the love she’d needed. Jud didn’t believe it had ever been about sex for Sarah. He’d been a great provider. Anything she wanted was hers. An
d he’d transformed her into the most beautiful woman in Southern California. Their partnership had worked, until now. They had built his practice as a team, with Sarah being the best marketing he could hope for. He still missed her every day, and probably always would, even as he acknowledged he had been a bit selfish, luring her into a relationship based on deception. His only hope was that he had made her a little happy in return, given her a lifestyle—even a new body—and all the trappings of success.
“I love your mom, I always will. But I’m homosexual,” Jud had said, the words coming out thick. “That is the fact I cannot change, no matter how convenient it was to deny it all these years. And, in fact, if I hadn’t slipped that day in the hospital, if your mother hadn’t forced me to come out to you and admit who I am, I would still be in the closet, living my life as I had.”
“Mom was miserable, and now I realize, so were you. You just seemed controlling because Mom was getting wiser,” Ashley had said.
Jud remembered Sarah’s face, streaked with tears, her eyes filled with horror as she stood by his bed in the hospital. And then she had pointed her finger at him. “You will tell me everything.” And he had, in a marathon spilling of his guts that lasted until the overnight shift had arrived at the hospital. She had hired a private detective and found out about Tom. Before then, only Brad Bennett had discovered Jud’s real relationship with his assistant. Why had he let Tom into his life, Jud wondered again. Before, it had always been a different man each trip. Nothing permanent, no relationship implied. No strings, no trail. No chance for his life to explode.
And now, alone in his swamp for Christmas, Jud was having a serious pity party for himself. He walked back inside and was shocked by the cool, air-conditioned air like an arctic blast hitting his body. His house was so quiet, devoid of any sign of the holiday season. Maybe he’d swing by Target after work, grab some holiday lights, he thought, pushing the button to brew another cup of coffee. He was past his two-cup limit, but he was freezing inside, sweating outside.
His phone lit up. Another text message from Tom. The man wouldn’t let go, said he wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. It was stupid. Jud was married, well, almost, and had a kid and a whole life.
Had a whole life.
Jud grabbed the cup of steaming coffee with his right hand and picked up his phone.
Tom texted: “Can we talk. Please?”
Jud looked around his expansive, frosty kitchen. He took stock of the perfectly decorated great room beyond. He’d bought the model home and everything was as he’d purchased it, “sophisticated beach,” his realtor had told him. He despised it all, especially the wooden sign arrow that pointed out back, to the pond/swamp, with the word BEACH painted on it. He’d need to throw it away, or burn it in the fireplace if it ever cooled off.
Jud texted: “Sure.”
The doorbell rang and Jud jumped. He’d never heard it ring before. The delivery guy usually banged on the door to deliver his few Amazon.com orders. Jud put his coffee mug on the counter and opened the front door.
Tom was on his doorstep. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his palms turned up, his eyes covered by sunglasses. “It’s almost Christmas, and you’re here, alone. I’m there, back in Irvine, alone. I can’t stand it.”
Jud realized he couldn’t stand it either. He pushed open the door and waved his hand like a butler. “Come in,” he said, closing the door behind Tom and leading him into the great room. “Don’t you think the corner over there could use a Christmas tree?”
“The biggest tree still left on the lot,” Tom said.
MELANIE
Part of the problem with her life, with everything associated with her life, was that it had come too easily, Melanie realized.
To be exact, her life since senior year of college had been easy. It was as if she’d been born that year, 1985, and everything before had evaporated. Her post-1985 life had fit her so well, like an old pair of jeans, that sometimes she forgot who she really was. But it didn’t matter, because only 1985 on mattered. That was the year she’d met Keith at one of her sorority’s mixers—“Yes, Mom, I’m in a sorority and yes, they have scholarships for people like me,” she’d explained to her worried mother—an event she had given up ever attracting a date to, much less finding a relationship at. Keith was new to Ohio State University, a transfer student. Like her, he was a little different, a bit awkward at parties, shy and more studious than most. Unlike her, though, his family was from the right side of the tracks, Upper Arlington, Ohio, to be exact, two generations deep. She didn’t know all of that when their eyes met that night. But she had known the shy brown-haired boy in the corner of the party would be her future.
And he had been. Just like she still had a pair of those jeans hanging in her closet, she was still here. Only now, they lived in Crystal Beach, in Diamond Bay, a place she could have only dreamed of living when she was a child. They’d arrived, but where? That was what she’d struggled with.
As promised, Keith had driven her to the first appointment with the shrink the Monday after the embarrassing Halloween park debacle. Melanie had hoped her office would be in another city, but of course, she was right down Coast Highway from home. She couldn’t escape this town if she tried.
“You’re midlife restless,” Dr. Winslett had said, her dark eyes penetrating Melanie’s soul. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her formidable mahogany desk. “I suspect you’re drinking to be numb. You aren’t alone, my dear. This is quite typical, unfortunately. We’ll work through this. Instead of being thankful for what you have, you are taking it for granted. Perhaps even your husband, although I won’t know that without further chats.”
Melanie wondered if she should just pay the $350 now and walk out the door? This woman had summed up everything in a few sentences. Was Melanie a cliché? A page torn out of Psychology Today? she had wondered.
“Well, I guess,” she had said because the doctor seemed out of words. Melanie had a flashback to her own mother, a firm hand escorting Melanie from the playground, telling her not to worry, everything would be fine. It was just elementary school, her mom had assured her, and kids were mean. Melanie had discovered kids were mean continually, that it only started during second grade and grew with the growth charts on the walls of their homes. If you were different, poor, and living in a single-parent household in Melanie’s case, you were marked as deeply as permanent ink on the fake paneling in their living room wall. She knew through Dane’s experience that if you were a new kid, moving to a beach town in California from a suburban town in Ohio, the bullying was no different.
Did grown women bully each other, too? Was that what was causing her discomfort, her uncertainty? She had known who she was in Ohio. Here, she was starting over and the welcome wagon had never arrived.
“I’ve developed a program I’d like you to take a look at. It’s a combination of one-on-one counseling, a work book, and some group activities,” Dr. Winslett had said. She was chewing the eraser of her pencil, like a tiny ear of corn. Her teeth were perfect, white, and square. They just had to be veneers. Melanie wondered how old the doctor was, and whether she had experienced a midlife crisis herself. Were other women mean to her or threatened by her? The woman could be forty years old, or sixty, Melanie couldn’t tell. She clearly had done Botox, but who hadn’t around here? “It’s time to refocus on your own life, your goals. Do you believe you spend too much time on Facebook, living through other people?”
Melanie had nodded, ashamed, remembering how she was rebranding her marriage on Facebook. Those “likes” made her feel like she had friends.
“I see it all the time. You only have one life to live and it’s your own. It really doesn’t matter what everybody else is doing, how others around you treat you. You need to step into your own power and let all the rest go. I can help, if it sounds like something you could try?”
Melanie had thought about Keith sitting outside in the waiting area. She saw Dane’s face, the
look of disgust he tossed her way when he thought she’d had too much to drink. And she thought about her one friend, Lynne, and her sort-of friend Sarah, their worried eyes illuminating her embarrassing behavior like white-hot spotlights pointed directly at every social event she’d attended since they’d arrived in town. Yes, she needed this.
“Yes,” she had said.
“It’s three days a week, three hours a day,” Dr. Winslett had said. “And you’ll need to stop drinking.”
“I’m open. And I’ll try.”
“We’ll begin tomorrow then. Here is your first homework assignment. It’s about gratitude. What do you do for exercise?”
Melanie blushed, Oh no, is this a Weight Watchers lesson, too? She didn’t know if she could handle it all wrapped up together—her body, her outlook, her life, her failure to thrive.
“I try to walk,” Melanie had said. She’d read that walking twenty minutes a day was important once one reached middle age. She liked her answer.
“As long as you are outside, getting sunshine, for at least twenty minutes a day. It’s important to fight depression,” Dr. Winslett had said, standing up to indicate their time together was over. “My assistant will give you your packet. I’ll see you on Wednesday, same time. And Melanie, kiss your husband. On the lips. It’s important.”
That first session had been a lifetime ago, it seemed. It was before the drug bust at school and before Dane’s first college acceptance, a date marked on her heart forever. Melanie remembered she needed to water the Christmas tree. The decorations were over the top this year, but she was so excited for Seth to be home, so thankful for every moment they shared together as a family now. So she’d gone all out, including a fresh greens wreath on the front door with a miniature blackboard and chalk she could write her own message on. Even though she could change the message daily, she kept it the same as the day it had arrived. She’d written “Grateful.” She picked up her work book and was about to carry it to her office when the front door opened. Was Dane actually coming home after school instead of rushing to be with Ashley somewhere, anywhere but here?
