by Jacki Kelly
“Look, I need some time.”
“Walter?”
I hung up. Never had I been angry with her. She called me back. I ignored the ringing phone and stretched out on the couch again.
Light came through the slits in the office blinds, crossing the floor in thin ribbons. I couldn’t block out the light. Instead of sleeping, I stared at the ceiling. What could I say to Tracy to get her to forgive me this time? I couldn’t picture a life with us all intertwined: Tracy, Crystal, Sasha, and the new baby. I could see bits and pieces, but the puzzle never came together.
I pushed off the sofa, showered in the corporate bathroom, and dressed. I didn’t want the whole office to know I slept on my couch. Beverly stepped in my office and closed the door.
“I don’t know if you heard yet.” She sat like there were thorns in the chair. “I’m going to be the admin assistant for Thompson effective next month.” She looked pained.
“Thompson!” Her betrayal socked me. I couldn’t tolerate the little weasel of a man. “Thompson’s name was on my list, he’s being let go, too.”
“Joe decided to promote him. He’s the new Vice President of Sales and Marketing.”
“I guess he’s better at the political game than I am.” I tried to hide my discomfort. “Beverly, sorry about that, but I guess it could be worse. You could be out on the street like me.”
“He’s not so bad. He never works late and his offices will be in the new wing with the new furniture.” She shrugged one shoulder. Beverly didn’t approve of my choices. She’d be quite delighted to know Tracy kicked me out of the house. “Besides, you’ll get a nice little package plus all the executive perks. You won’t have to work again if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah, but…” I didn’t know how to respond. “This might be my last week in the office. I don’t see a need to hang around.”
“I’ll call and make arrangements to have your boxes sent to your house.”
“Give me the number and I’ll handle the arrangements.” She gave me a quizzical look. I didn’t want her to know where my belongings would end up.
I dialed my home number after Beverly walked out. The phone went to the recorder again. I left another message and hung up.
I busied myself deleting personal emails and shredding documents. At the end of the day, well after Beverly had left, I prepared to leave the office. I couldn’t spend another night on the narrow couch.
No word from Tracy all day, so I drove home to check on her. As I pulled into the cul-de-sac I saw lights on in the house. I pushed the button and waited while the garage door went up. The house was quiet. I searched downstairs; she wasn’t there. I took the stairs two at a time to see if she was in the bedroom.
The ransacked master bedroom was empty. My clothes cluttered the bed. Along the wall were trash bags, lots of trash bags. Drawers on my chest hung half open, they were all empty. I opened my closet door, it was empty, even my shoes were missing.
With a sinking feeling, I opened a few of the bags and recognized my belongings. My worldly possessions were in a state of transition from one place to the next. My office was in boxes. Now my home belongings were in bags.
Tracy had to be out with the loudmouths. I went downstairs to the wet bar and opened a bottle of Duckhorn Estate Grown Merlot. We had saved that bottle for a special occasion. I couldn’t think of a better time to drink the wine. I sat in the kitchen and poured the wine in a glass. My BlackBerry vibrated and I pulled it off the clip. It was Sasha. I pondered taking her call.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Where are you? She said she was letting you go. Aren’t you coming here?”
While Sasha droned on I sipped my wine. I thought my anger would have subsided, but seeing my clothes squished into trash bags unsettled my emotions.
“Walter? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” I sighed.
“So what’s up? What’s happening?”
“I’ll be there. I have a few things to take care of, then I’ll come.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m coming tonight. I’ll see you shortly.” I ended the conversation and thought about calling Ursula or Carla to find out where Tracy was staying. I sipped my wine in the noiseless house. There was no need to hurry. I had plenty of time. I walked into my office; it was in the same disarray as my clothes. Tracy had a busy day.
Even the family pictures I had placed around the desk and bookcase had been packed away. Nothing that belonged solely to me was in sight. I forced my emotions down. The last thing I needed was for Tracy to walk through the door and see me crying like a pussy.
I scribbled a note for her and left it on the kitchen counter. I apologized again and assured her I could change. After an hour and a half empty bottle of wine, I left the house. My drive across town was slow.
Sasha met me at the door. Her big frightened eyes were full of tears. She fell into my arms as soon as I walked into the house. Without giving it much thought, I folded my arms around her. Her stomach kept some distance between us, but her skin was soft and warm.
“Are you hungry?” she asked when I released her. A hopeful look filled her eyes. Tonight I needed more than food.
“No, let’s just go to bed.”
Chapter Thirty – Tracy
“Buon giorno, Antonio. Marco gripped the restaurant owner’s hand and pointed to me. Questa e Tracy.”
“Ciao,” I responded when Antonio kissed my cheek.
“I’m very hungry, Antonio, so I hope you’re making homemade biscuits this morning.” Marco patted the owner on the back and flashed his beautiful smile.
“Yes. With your hearty appetite, you’ll probably want your usual three egg omelet and apple butter, too,” the owner laughed.
“You know it.” Marco held my chair.
“And the little lady? Her the same?” he asked with his thick Italian accent.
“Oh no, not for me. I’ll have one egg and toast.”
“Cet un munu per bambini?” Marco teased.
“I don’t need a children’s menu. I’m just not as hungry as a horse.” I nudged him.
The owner scurried into the kitchen. Marco reached across the table, taking my hands in his. “Grazie.” He squeezed my fingers.
“For what?” I angled my body to face him.
“For this time, for spending it with me.”
“You’ve been my lifeline. I feel like you’ve pulled me from under a shoe and breathed life back into me.”
“I adore you, bella.” He closed the distance between us and kissed my mouth.
“I love it when you speak Italian. Even if I can’t understand some of it.”
“Then I’ll speak less English and more Italian. That should keep you in my bed, yes?”
“Yes.” I breathed heavily. “That, along with your warm caresses, the slow kisses and—”
“It has been even more enjoyable for me. I’m a lucky man.” He rolled his thumb across the back of my hand.
“We both are. I hardly recognize myself now when I look in the mirror.”
A server set several heaping platters in front of us. The rich aroma of butter and sugar made my mouth water. I snuck several bits off Marco’s plate while the waters of the Chesapeake Bay played behind us.
Marco finally set his fork down. “I’m stuffed.”
“You know I’ve got to go to the house today. I have to talk to Walter.”
“Yes. I think it’s time. I didn’t want to push you.” He smiled sympathetically.
“I dread going there. It’s been a month, but I think I need to go.” I put my napkin on the table. “When I told Crystal about her grandfather, she sobbed, when I told her about the divorce, she yelled like a two-year-old. I’ve never seen her like this.”
Marco slid his chair closer and pulled me into his arms.
“She finally agreed to talk to Walter and me tomorrow. She sounded so angry.”
“She’ll get past it. Give her time,” Marco assure
d me.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Crystal as we drove back to Delaware. She worried me. Getting her to agree to dinner with Walter and me was difficult.
Marco pulled into my driveway.
“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked as we sat in the car.
“I’m ready.” His hand rested on my thigh. “I’m going to handle a couple of things and make a few calls. I’m afraid if I don’t keep moving forward I might lose my momentum.”
“Want me to hang around…just in case?” He gestured with his hand.
“I do, but I need to do this myself.”
“But not by yourself. I love you, Tracy.” His eyes were intense.
I never got tired of hearing him say it. He said it several times a day and every time my heart spun around like a kid’s toy. “I love you, too.”
He gave me the half smile that I adored. “Call if you need me,” he said as I got out of the car, and his eyes lingered on me. I was reluctant to leave the comfort and harmony of his presence.
I let myself into the house by the front door. In the five years that we’d lived in this house, I only went in through the front door a few times. This was a defiant act for me. I needed to start accumulating more brave acts.
I hadn’t been back in the house since I packed up Walter’s belongings. I felt like a stranger as I wandered through the rooms. The last several years I guess I was a visitor, only pretending to have a life here.
A half-empty wine bottle sat on the kitchen table along with a note from Walter. I balled it in my hand and tossed it in the trash. There wasn’t a single word or phrase he could say that was worth my time to stop and read. Stepping back into my marriage would be like severing my coronary arteries and serving them up on a hot plate.
I’d asked him not to come back, but he did. He always did whatever he wanted, which reinforced my decision to let his selfish ass go.
I punched his number into the phone. He picked up before the second ring.
“Are you available for lunch today?” I asked without preamble.
“Yes. I’ve been calling you.”
“I know. I’ve been ignoring you.”
“What’s up? What are you going to do? Why did you send me all my stuff?”
“I told you, it’s over.”
“Baby, let’s talk.” His tone was different, less intense.
“We’ll talk at lunch. Meet you at Union Grill at noon.” Before he could ask another question, I hung up.
In the living room, I faced the crystal butterfly perched on the center of the sofa table. Walter and I had purchased it one spring while in Venice. We found it on a side street not far from Saint Marc’s Square. I wanted to keep the butterfly, not to remember Walter, but to remember the beauty of Venice and to celebrate how happy I was at that time in spite of him. The hand-blown cobalt blue vase he gave me for our fifteenth wedding anniversary was going to the Goodwill. Very little of what was in this house would follow me to my new life. I planned to collect new memories.
In the bedroom, the drapes fluttered as the air conditioner roared. I positioned myself on the chaise and looked out the window onto the garden. I hadn’t seen one hummingbird all summer. Usually one or two of the tiny little birds fed on the daylilies or phlox. This year they were strangely absent. I hadn’t filled the sugar-water feeder that swung from the pole in the center of the garden. My attention had been focused elsewhere.
I made a mental note of the few things that needed attention before the sale sign was stuck in the yard. There weren’t many things that needed to be done. The house was ready to go on the market.
It was easy to erase Walter’s presence from my life. “You can’t miss what you never had,” I murmured and crossed my arms over my chest with satisfaction.
The ringing phone harassed me. But it was Ursula.
“Hey, it’s been weeks since I talked to you. What’s up?” I said.
“Girl, what is up with you? Carla told me you and Marco are talking marriage!” she shrieked.
“That’s right. Later, next year, in Italy,” I laughed.
“I’ve never been to Italy. This is going to be great,” she gushed.
“Oh no, we’re not doing the big wedding thing. It’ll be him and me, one witness and a priest on some small piazza in Florence. I’ll send pictures.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want, I understand.” She sounded disappointed.
“I’ll let you and Anthony do the big wedding thing.” I tried to coax a smile out of her.
“You sound so happy. I haven’t heard you this content in a long time.”
“Ursula, happy doesn’t come close to describing my state of mind.” I blushed with excitement. “I feel guilty for being this happy when Crystal seems so miserable with the whole idea.”
“She’s speaking to you now?” Ursula asked.
“A little. Last night she told me she loved me, so we’re making progress.” I sat on the edge of the bed.
“You know, Carla left this morning for Guatemala.”
“Yes, to pick up her baby girl. I don’t know if I understand how it happened so fast, but I’m glad she and Javier are getting a baby. She couldn’t stop smiling when she told me her good news.” I shifted the phone to my opposite ear. “Maybe there is such a thing as happy endings.”
We chatted a few more minutes and promised to spend some time together later in the week. Now that she was working in Philadelphia, I missed popping in and out of her office and seeing her every time something worth chatting about came up. But after all the years between us, I knew I could count on her.
Her relationship with Anthony was growing stronger. She was giddy with that new relationship excitement. I prayed her happiness would last her a lifetime. Time is only good for aging wine; time alone does nothing to nurture a relationship.
I took my time getting to the restaurant. Keeping Walter waiting wasn’t ever done; nothing made him angrier than waiting on others. But if he left the restaurant before I got there, then he could talk to my lawyer. God knows I’d waited on him for years. I slowed my pace and relaxed my shoulders.
I prepared a speech in my head. This was my moment and I planned to purge my soul.
I sashayed into the restaurant on my four-inch heels, my shoulders back, my head high, and an air of confidence reminiscent of my college persona. Walter was already seated at a booth along the wall of the restaurant. A glass of wine sat in front of him. I took a deep breath and pushed past my anxiety.
I slid into the booth, with my back to the door. Exhaustion showed in Walter’s face, dark coloring puddled under his eyes. Salt and pepper stubble peppered his chin. Impeccably dressed as usual, but there was something missing from his arrogant air. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but that was no longer my concern. I only had to focus on me. I only had to make myself happy. I suppressed a big whoop as that realization settled over me.
“You’re late,” he said, without hiding his annoyance.
I ignored him. “I’ll have a glass of iced tea and a Caesar salad,” I said to the server who rushed to the table.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.” Walter balled his fingers into a fist.
“I know.”
“No one would tell me where you were.” He released his fingers and placed them on the table. “Look, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be. But we’ve been through more than this. We can get over this and have a happy life. You know we can.” He clenched his fingers again.
“Walter, I don’t want to be married to you anymore.”
“But…all those years, you can’t walk away from them.”
“I didn’t, you did. And every time you did, I forgave you. But not this time.” I smacked the table. Walter sat back. “It’s over.”
“No, not yet.” He rubbed his chest. “I can’t do it, Tracy. I can’t raise a child. I’m too old.” He ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “I’ve lost my job. I need you, Tracy. Please u
nderstand.”
“Tell me something, Walter. A few months ago, when you didn’t come home, were you really called into a meeting?”
He dropped his eyes and shifted his fork. “Of course I was. Remember, I left you the message?”
I shook my head. “You’ve made your bed, Walter, get comfortable.”
“Is it because you don’t believe I was in a meeting?”
“According to your Ms. Sasha, you spent several nights with her, playing house. She even told me about a trip to Paris and to the emergency room.”
His face turned gray. “You’re being mean. That’s not like you.”
“No I’m not. What you’ve done is mean. I’m finally seeing my marriage—what I thought was a marriage—with fresh eyes.” I restrained my anger. “What did you think when you were making that baby? They need a father. They deserve a father, so forget what you want and step up.”
“I can’t do it, Tracy. I can’t.” He dropped his head. “These should be my golden years, I don’t want to do parent-teacher conferences and all that stuff again. I’m miserable just thinking about it.”
“Walter, I don’t know what to tell you. Our marriage is over. It’s been over for years. There’s no going back. This is your problem, you’ll figure it out.” We sat in silence for several moments.
“Where have you been? I went past the house several times.”
“I’m staying with Marco.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you fucking him?”
“Now let me see,” I taunted. “That’s none of your business.” I stirred sweetener into my iced tea. “If I was, what would you say? What would you do?” I placed my chin in the palm of my hand and leaned forward. “What would you have to say about that, Walter?”
He didn’t respond.
“That’s what I thought.” I sat back.
“Tracy, I’m really sorry, but think about what you’re saying, what you’re doing. We’ve been through tougher times. We’re both too old to start over again.”
Poor Walter was still trapped in his own haze. Thinking he loved me or wanted me. My haze vanished when I stopped the pills. I had no compassion or empathy for him. I took a deep breath and slowly released it. I could move on without looking back. “Maybe you’re too old, but I feel like my young self again. Maybe better than I’ve felt in years.”
