Mid Life Love: At Last

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  “Claire?”

  My blood boiled at the very sound of that voice.

  I shook my head, knowing that I couldn’t be standing in my store. I had to be at home and asleep in my bed. I had to be dreaming. I had to be having a nightmare.

  “Claire?” He asked again, and I pinched myself before slowly turning around.

  I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t dreaming.

  It was Ryan.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you when I walked in. You look good, really good...” He looked me up and down. “Life must be treating you well.”

  “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Look. I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but since I’m in town, I thought I would—”

  “Invite me out to dinner? Catch up on life? I don’t have shit to say to you.”

  “I beg to differ. We need to talk.”

  “No thanks. Not interested.”

  “It’s important.” He sighed.

  “No. It’s not.”

  “Claire, it’s been five years now. We can at least be cordial to one another.”

  “Cordial? How cordial do you think I should be to the lying sack of shit who got my ex-best friend pregnant?” I shook my head. “Actually, don’t even answer that. I’ve already used up my ‘pointless conversation’ minutes for the day. Please get the fuck out of my store.”

  “You’re going to listen to me, Claire.” He took a step forward and looked directly into my eyes. “Whether you like it or not, you’re going to stand there and listen to every fucking word that I have to say.”

  I crossed my arms. “If I were you, I would leave right now. My fiancée will be here any minute and he won’t be as nice as I’m being to you.”

  His face suddenly fell—or at least it looked like it did. “You’re...You’re engaged now? To who?”

  “Please leave, Ryan.” I felt an ache in my chest—a painful, burning ache. “I don’t want you here. Ever.”

  He stared at me—shaking his head as he slowly backed away.

  Before he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder. “I’m only leaving right now because you’re closing and I have somewhere to be. I was just stopping by to make sure it was true that you worked here. Trust me, I’ll be back. And you and I are going to talk.”

  It took every ounce of strength in my body not to run over and stab him with the sharp edge of my dust wand, but I just stood there. Paralyzed. Livid.

  As soon as he was gone, I gained mobility again and threw my dust-wand to the floor. I headed behind the counter, pressing the button that made the glass panel drop down and block anyone from coming any further; I didn’t want to take any chances on him returning minutes later.

  I locked myself in the bathroom and ran cold water in the sink, splashing my face over and over again. As hard as I tried to fight it, my most vivid and bitter memory of our failed marriage began to play in my mind...

  I took another sip of disgusting wine and looked at the incriminating photos Barry had handed me.

  “I asked Amanda where she was on last Friday.” Barry lit a cigar and shook his head. “She told me she was with you—out shopping for a new dress.” He picked up one of the photos and ran his fingers along the timestamp. “Maybe she meant she was wearing a dress while she was fucking Ryan in his office...”

  I let out a short nervous laugh, but I couldn’t stop crying. As hard as I tried to repress my sobs, the tears were falling faster and faster and my chest was heaving uncontrollably.

  A waiter stopped by and cleared his throat. “Um, sir? This is a nonsmoking café.”

  “My wife is fucking her husband.” Barry snapped. “I can smoke wherever the fuck I want today.”

  The waiter’s face turned bright red and he dashed across the room.

  I wiped away another stream of tears and stared at the photo that had fallen in my lap, the one of Ryan tucking a strand of hair behind Amanda’s ear, the one of her leaning in close for a kiss from his lips.

  “Can I keep a set of these?” My voice cracked.

  “Of course you can. I made four copies. One for you, one for me, and two sets for my lawyers.”

  I nodded and slid the stack of photos back into the envelope. I was too numb to say anything else. I needed to be alone.

  Standing up, I walked over and hugged Barry—knowing that I wouldn’t see him again for a very long time.

  He hugged me back and used his wrinkled sleeve to wipe my face. “You’re going to be okay, Claire. Don’t let what they’ve done to us ruin you. You’re an amazing person and you’ll bounce back from this...”

  He said a few more things, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. I was too busy focusing on the drive home, too busy wondering what the hell I was going to say when I saw Ryan face to face.

  I dragged myself out of the hotel lounge and into the rain—not bothering to put up my umbrella. The valet brought my car around and offered to give me a towel for my seat, but I slipped inside and sped off.

  “I love you, Claire...You’re the love of my life...I’m going to make sure our anniversary is the best one we’ve ever had...”

  I sniffled as I remembered him saying those words to me—last night.

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved—and you always will be...”

  I pulled off on the exit that led to our suburb, shaking my head at all the beautiful memories that were playing in my head—knowing that no matter what I said to him tonight, our so-called “fairytale” was long over.

  I drove around our neighborhood until my gas needle hit “E,” trying to come up with something to say, but I was too numb, too hurt. After deciding that I would let the pictures say it all, I drove my car into the garage and sat at the wheel with my head in my hands.

  The two of us were just shopping for new kitchen countertops last week—he wanted wood and I wanted granite. We were just planning our fifteen year anniversary, and even though he’d been vague about the plans, I was sure he was taking me to the Panama Canal—the place I’d always wanted to go.

  A round of thunder roared in the distance and the rain began to pelt even harder, so I closed the garage door and slipped out of the car.

  Taking a deep breath, I slowly twisted the doorknob and stepped inside the house.

  “Hey, Mom!” “Why are you so late today?” Caroline and Ashley didn’t look up from their homework.

  “Hey babe.” Ryan pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Are you okay?” He raised his eyebrow, lowering his voice and asking why my face was “so red...like [I’d] been crying.”

  I didn’t answer his question. I just stared into his eyes, wondering how he could act as if everything was normal—as if he hadn’t just fucked Amanda in our bedroom yesterday.

  “You’re drenched...” He ran his hands against my soaked blazer. “Did you lose your umbrella?”

  I swallowed, shaking my head.

  He smiled. “Well, go dry up. Whatever’s bothering you—whatever it is, we can talk about it after dinner. Okay? I ordered pizza from the girls’ favorite place and it’s ready now.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  I heard him whisper “I love you” into my ear before he walked away and disappeared into the garage.

  As soon as I heard him revving up his car and heading down the driveway, I turned to face my daughters.

  “Mom?” Ashley tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Caroline lifted her head up and frowned. “Mom? Why are you staring at us like that?” She looked at Ashley and shook her head. “Why isn’t she talking?”

  “I need you two to go to your room.” My voice cracked. “I need to...I need to talk your dad when he gets back. Alone.”

  They exchanged confused glances, but they put their folders away and hugged me before heading upstairs.

  As soon as I heard their door close, I took th
e envelope from the inside of my blazer and sat down at the table, thinking about how I was going to present the photos to Ryan.

  All of a sudden, my phone vibrated. A text. Amanda. “Hey Claire! Just texting you to remind you about that jazzercise class we signed up for tomorrow morning! I’ll pick you up at nine!”

  Is this bitch serious?!

  I tossed my phone across the room, knocking a photo frame off the wall. Hurt, I stood up and took the photos out of the envelope. I walked around downstairs and tossed them all over the floor, leaving a trail from the dining room to the living room and into the kitchen.

  The last photo in my hands was one of Amanda straddling his lap in his car last week—in the parking lot of his law firm.

  I wanted to rip it apart and force the pieces down his throat, but I heard the knob of the garage door twisting, heard him saying, “Where’d everybody go? I’m back!”

  I leaned against the table and tried to calm my shaking hands.

  “Ashley? Caroline? Claire?” His steps were getting closer and closer. “Did a tornado hit the inside of our house while I was gone?” He finally stepped into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on, Claire?” He set the pizzas down on the counter. “What are all these pictures and why are they all over the place?”

  I didn’t answer. I just stared at him as he bent down to pick one of them up, as his face immediately went white.

  He looked up at me in utter horror, devastation. “Claire, I’m so sorry...Can we...Can we talk about this?”

  I cringed at the memory and splashed more water onto my face.

  The mere thought of Ryan still lit a bitter flame within me, but seeing him? In person? That was a damn wildfire, and I wasn’t sure how long it would take to put out.

  I couldn’t believe his audacity—to actually show up and attempt to have a regular conversation with me, to act as if I would give him the time of day.

  What the fuck does he want?

  There was a knock at the door, but I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t. My body was shaking and my thoughts were consumed with rage and anger.

  Why would he even show up here? He knows I HATE him...

  “Claire?” Jonathan’s voice was on the other side of the door.

  “Yes?” I snapped out of my trance and unlocked it.

  “Why are you in here? And why is your face wet?” He grabbed a towel off the rack and softly pressed it against my cheeks. “Are you hot?”

  “No...I’m...” I hesitated.

  “We can reschedule the appointment.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and walked me back out front. “I’ll let her know we can come another day. You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”

  “I’m not...Ryan was just here.”

  His body suddenly stiffened, and he looked down at me with his jaw clenched. “Your ex-husband Ryan?”

  I nodded.

  “What did he want?”

  “I don’t know...I told him to leave. I didn’t want to talk to him.”

  “Good.” His eyes softened a bit, but I could tell he was upset. “How does he know where you work?”

  “I don’t know...” Caroline and Ashley knew better than to discuss me with Ryan, just like they knew better than to discuss him with me. The few mutual friends we shared back in Pittsburgh only knew tidbits of my new life—nothing major, and they would never share any information with him.

  “Do you know why he would bother coming to San Francisco?”

  I shook my head. There was nothing here for him.

  “Hmmm.” He pulled me close and kissed my hair. “I’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

  I wanted to ask, “How?” but I knew he would handle it. I leaned against him and sighed as he led me over to the passenger side of his car.

  “Since you’re finally leaving work on time today, what would you like for dinner?” He revved up the engine and looked over at me.

  “You.”

  “That’s implied.” He grinned. “We can order something in.”

  He pulled off and sped onto the highway, making me smile at how perfect my life was right now, how everything I wanted and needed was sitting next to me in this car.

  As I looked out my window and watched the city disappear in the distance, I tried not to think about Ryan’s visit, but I couldn’t help it.

  Outside of scheduling time to see our daughters, Ryan hadn’t bothered me any other year that I’d been living here. He knew not to, and I didn’t need my painful past colliding with my perfect present. Ever.

  It has to be something really serious for him to come here...No, fuck him. It doesn’t matter what it is...

  Chapter 1.5

  Claire

  Summer 2009

  “You didn’t see any of this coming, Claire?” My next door neighbor Andrea handed me a box. “There had to be signs.”

  “No. There weren’t any signs...” I gritted my teeth.

  “I’m sorry...I just—”

  “You just what?”

  “Amanda’s a really good person...”

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Andrea? I asked you over so you could help load up my car, not stand there and defend that ho-bag.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry...I just thought you would’ve been a little suspicious...”

  “Suspicious about what?”

  “The two of them hanging out so much maybe?” She placed the girls’ blankets into my trunk and shut it. “Michael and I thought something was up when the three of you came to our Christmas party last year...They spent an awful lot of time on our patio...”

  “Thank you, Andrea.” I tried not to roll my eyes. “That’s what I really need to hear right now. You know what? Say it again so I can feel even better.”

  She pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly. “I’m only saying it because...I never really liked Ryan, Claire. I’ve always thought that you could do better—so much better...I’m not happy at all about what happened to you, and if I could kill them both and get away with it I would.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve just been trying to change your mind about moving but...Keep yourself safe in San Francisco, okay? I want you to find someone who actually deserves you.”

  I nodded and slowly let myself out of her embrace. I tried to hand her the two thousand dollar check she’d given me earlier, but she refused to take it and walked away—crying.

  I forced a lump down my throat and slipped into my Audi Q7 with my daughters, heading straight for the highway, for my new life.

  “You had to see the signs, Claire...You had to see the signs...”

  I hadn’t. I really hadn’t.

  How could I when Ryan was so fucking wonderful? So fucking perfect.

  And Amanda was—she was my best friend.

  I drove down the interstate and flipped through all my memories—birthdays, get-togethers, anniversaries—and in every last one the two of them were right by my side as always. I thought back to more recent memories as I crossed over the state line, and then a couple ones started to stick out—a couple ones that I would have never second guessed before...

  Three months ago...

  “Death by falling off a building or drowning in the ocean?” I threw a peanut M&M at Ryan.

  “Falling off a building.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It would be an instant death once my body hit the concrete. Drowning takes way too long. Plus, there’s no guarantee my body would be found if I died in the ocean. I want my body to be in the casket after I die.”

  I nodded at his logic and looked up at the bright, blue sky.

  We were sitting in the grass at Frick Park, enjoying a small breakfast picnic together. We’d been coming to this park once a month ever since we were in high school, ever since he admitted that he was in love with me and wanted to marry me someday.

  “Okay, wait.” I looked over at him again. “I have another one: Which is worse? An emotional affair or a physical affair?”

  He paused before an
swering, then he looked into my eyes. “Emotional. It’s easier to cut off sex. Feelings never go away—no matter how hard you try to bury them...”

  “That makes perfect sense...So, let’s say your wife is having an affair. Would you rather it be with a stranger or with your best friend?”

  “What?”

  “Would you rather lose your wife to a stranger or to your best friend?” I threw another M&M at him.

  “Jesus, Claire. What type of question is that?”

  “You’ve asked me much worse before.” I shuddered, thinking about the time he’d asked me whether I’d rather have sex in front of twenty people or get gangbanged by three guys in private.

  He looked out over the lake and sighed. “Neither.”

  “You can’t choose neither.” I shook my head. “That’s one of your rules, remember? Pick.”

  “I guess I would pick the stranger...Yeah...The stranger.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You usually have an entire reasoning behind your pick. Give me the logic.”

  “Well I guess it would...It would hurt either way, I just...” His voice trailed off. “With the stranger I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling as betrayed...Whereas, if I lost you to my best friend I—I’m not sure how I would ever deal with that or if I would ever get over it. It’d be the worst thing my best friend could possibly do...”

  “I one-hundred-percent-agree.” I pulled him down onto our blanket and kissed his lips. “You know what I was thinking the other day?”

  “Tell me.”

  “We never got the chance to have a real wedding...”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sighed and remembered how poor we were when we decided to tie the knot, how I’d had to buy my wedding dress from the neighborhood thrift store and beg my mom to make all the alterations.

  We didn’t even have enough money to rent a venue, and since our church was undergoing renovations, we decided to have it in his mother’s backyard. Don’t get me wrong, that was the happiest day of my life and our moms decorated the hell out of that backyard—so much so that it almost looked like it belonged in a magazine, but it wasn’t everything I wanted it to be.