by Rose Hudson
About a year before my husband Glendon’s death, I had forced myself to stop daydreaming, focusing only on things that were pertinent to the present. I had come to terms with the fact that the passion once there between us was gone, and as my grandmother would say, I needed to put my big girl panties on and deal with what was left. So, putting my needs to the side, that’s what I did. Until tonight, acknowledging Ruth is getting older and would one day have a life outside of the one including me, I hadn’t realized that I have basically quit concerning myself with much outside of her. I had quit allowing myself to want or need. I had quit remembering what it was like to be desired. I had quit feeling anything. I played my assumed roles as mother and VP, expecting nothing in return for so long, I quit being me.
I cringe at the thought of sex. Not that I don’t totally love sex, it had just been a ridiculously long time since I had experienced any. Glendon had come home on leave six months before the accident. Both of us accepting our marriage was over, we had taken the opportunity to say our goodbyes to each other. He was focused on his military career and I wasn’t interested in pretending to have a husband when in all reality, I didn’t. There was no question I loved Glendon and cared about his well being, that wasn’t the problem. The resentment that grew inside me daily over his unwavering devotion to his job had slowly chipped away at our relationship, and that was the problem. That same resentment had also started chipping away at me. Making me feel like a monster, despising my husband for taking his service to this country so seriously, but eventually, I knew it wasn’t that. It was because that same devotion didn’t carry over to Ruth and I when he was home. We’d both cried and expressed our sorrow over our failed marriage and the fact that we had become different people. I thanked him for saving me from my parents and he thanked me for making him a father. I don’t know if it was us seeking closure, or if it was the weight of the last few years being lifted off our hearts, but in that moment, we hugged and kissed with a passion that had been absent in our marriage for a long time.
“Let me love you Erin. Let me prove to you that I have always loved you, no matter what happens when I leave here tomorrow.” I nodded and he lay me down on our bed and loved me, and took me, and gave himself to me one last time. Those were the last words he ever spoke to me. The next morning when I woke, he had already left for deployment again.
The only times we ever spoke after that night were through text and emails. I guess that’s why when I received notification of his death three months later, I was in a state of shock for days. I never cried for me though. The few tears that I did shed were all for Ruth and the fact that her life would forever be changed. I couldn’t make it better for her, I couldn’t take her pain away. The one thing that comes natural to a mother was to take the pain away, kiss the boo boos, make it better, and I couldn’t do it. That’s why I cried. Not for me, for her. Glendon and I had said our goodbyes months before, but my daughter never knew that the last time she talked to him would be the last time she talked to him.
The wind blows over me in a chill fitting for the memory. I hardly ever let my mind wander to that place because it’s done and I’m a believer in letting sleeping dogs lie. “You can’t move forward if you’re always going backwards,” my grandmother would tell me anytime the situation called for it. And she was right. Pain only dwells where it’s allowed to stay, so after Glendon’s death I made it a point to limit the opportunities for hurt or pain to find its way back in. I didn’t understand when making the decision to keep people at arm’s length, that I would in turn be the creator of my own pain by doing so. When you don’t allow people in, the black hole of loneliness grows in order to fill the void. Just like with alcohol or drugs, I believe loneliness and depression become a form of addiction, addiction that can’t be defeated alone. Any addict that’s gone through recovery has a savior in their story, someone that pulled them out of the depths of their darkness. I’m no different than any other addict, I just haven’t found my savior yet. So until then I’ll breathe in and out and put one foot in front of the other, because that’s life. With or without a savior.
Not willing to allow myself to take my thoughts any further, I drink the last of my wine and stand. I walk over to the edge of the deck and gaze out at the vast waters of the gulf, appreciating the sounds and the smells, and most of all, the peace that it brings me. A peace I’ve not felt before, and a peace I know I’ll only experience here.
4 Weeks Later …
THE OFFICE IS IN Daphne, which is only a 20-minute drive, but Point Clear was a little more in my price range and has a bit of a smaller town feel in comparison to Daphne. That was a huge selling point for me when taking into consideration where Ruth would be raised during her teenage years. After spending my teenage years in Memphis, I wanted a quaint and close-knit community for Ruth, and I’m certain we’ve found it here.
Ruth is loving her new school, which has lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders. My biggest fear has been that she would struggle with this move. I know it’s still early to tell, but she really seems as though she’s enjoying herself and fitting in. She is so bright and friendly that I don’t think she would ever have an issue socially, but you never know at this age. Kids can be little assholes and Ruth tends to root for the underdog, which in the wrong setting can make things tougher on her than necessary. I’m always in awe and admire her ability to look beyond another kid’s social status or outer appearance. That is so rare in people in general, nonetheless in adolescence. She came home yesterday talking about a sleep over tonight at her new friend’s house, so I guess tonight will be the first official time she has stayed overnight at a friend’s. It makes me a little anxious and I started to remind her that today was my birthday just to keep her at home, since we always celebrate together. I didn’t though, and now I’m kind of regretting it.
I hate the thought of spending my birthday, the big 3-0 at that, alone, drinking a bottle of red and letting my mind get carried away in a river of memories I’d just as soon forget. I know Ruth has been my security blanket for far too long because when I have her to think about I don’t have to deal with the fact that I’m without a partner in this life. Originally, my focus was to insure her strength and recovery from her father’s death, but after so many years and zero dates later, I’m starting to think that maybe it’s been a cop out. I don’t know where to begin in the “dating world”. I met Glendon when I was seventeen years old. I’ve never barhopped, online dated, speed dated or whatever people my age are doing these days. I’ve had several guys approach me over the years and even a couple of them have asked for my number or out to dinner and I’ve always declined, went back to whatever I was doing at the time, and acted like it never happened. It was just easier. Easier to be mom and stay in that comfort zone. But considering the milestone that I’ve reached today, it feels a little less comfortable.
A loud car horn wakes me out of my pity party and I realize that I’m crossing over the centerline into the lane of traffic next to me. Shit! Now my lackluster love life is becoming a safety hazard!! I wave at the pissed off driver as he passes me and adjust myself in the seat, turning up the radio, listening to the mind clearing soul soothing sounds of Van Morrison blaring through my speakers. Getting to the store in one piece is probably a safer topic to focus on. Not the fact that my vibrator has been my sole source of sexual activity for years, and the poor little inanimate object is probably on the verge of feeling sorry for me! Cranking up the air conditioning might also be a good idea. I turn my thoughts away from orgasms and focus on the store.
The store is really coming along and Chanin has been pleased with my vision for the layout. When I walked into the space I immediately knew what vibe we needed to give off to the street traffic to get them to open the door and venture into our sanctuary of fashion. Crisp whites along with teals and greens bring to life the coastal feel of our location, along with plush tan suede seating and a pale yellow ceiling. Floor to ceiling windows in the front give t
he almost “on the beach” feel that a location such as this needs to have. Though Daphne is a tourist town on the coastal banks of Mobile Bay, most of our shoppers will be residents, and I wanted to make them feel at home. The more at home they feel, the more they will return. After discussions with Chanin, I felt like we needed to include an option for those who come in seeking a particular piece for a specific event. So many times I have went shopping for a look and couldn’t find it, So I decided to solve that problem for our shoppers. We will set up a design area with an on staff drawing designer who can take the information you give for the piece you need or want and turn it into an actual design. Give us a few weeks for production and BAM, The piece is a reality! The fact that our store will be one of a kind in that aspect brings such a huge smile to my face knowing that my creativity will be what sets us apart.
I pull onto the street in which our store is located, thanking God that I made it here in one piece after my earlier fuck you via car horn. I park in my designated space, another perk to being the store manager, and cut the engine. After gathering all of the files, swatches of fabric, and the rest of the miscellaneous stuff that I had to carry home and finish last night, I look up and see that there are penis balloons on the back entrance to the store. If it weren’t my birthday, I might wonder what in the actual hell the balloons were there for, but knowing Chanin, Leelan and Mel the way I do, I don’t even take a second glance. Damn! I really hoped that they had forgotten. Like maybe because of the move and files being misplaced and us being so busy, that the Birthday Queen herself might have actually forgotten that today was anything but an ordinary day. Chanin is everything you would expect her to be as a single successful woman in her forties. The life of the party. The one person that never misses an opportunity to celebrate. And most definitely, the one boss that never forgets anyone’s birthday. Fuck. Me.
Walking up to the back door, I search it almost as in depth as a Navy Seal checking for IED’s. I totally expect a half-naked stripper to appear as soon as I touch the door handle, but surprisingly, no. Whew…good. Pleased that a naked man has not tried to molest me through dance at 8am, I proceed to walk to my office. All too aware that I’ve been discovered, I round every corner with the expectation of something completely insane about to take place, but am rewarded with complete silence. Really? Usually, Chanin is up dancing on a table, blaring all too inappropriate music along with even more inappropriate hip gyrations, singing happy birthday to whoever the unlucky fuck is for the day. I’m guessing that she got my memo after last years ‘Erin’s birthday disaster’, in which she retained the assistance of a local male stripper that I was unfortunately acquainted with. After a disastrous conversation at our local grocery store that pretty much consisted of said stripper showing me almost-dick-pics in order to convince me to go out with him on a date, I recognized him in vivid detail when he busted out of my office closet and proceeded to give me a lap dance in my office chair. An encounter that left me running for the nearest bathroom to wash out my eyeballs. Ugh.
Reaching my door at an almost sprint, I breathe a sigh of relief that apparently the penis balloons were the extent of her celebratory ideas. Closing the door behind me, I flip on the light and am proved wrong when I’m welcomed by more penis balloons. Jesus, does everyone know that I haven’t been laid in years? With the amount of dick I’ve seen upon my arrival so far, my guess would be a resounding yes. I place my bags on my door hook and proceed to my desk where I find a sparkly envelope addressed to me in true Chanin party fashion. Sighing, I shake my head and open the envelope to find a note card with a location and time written in her flawless handwriting:
Holy Shit! Is she seriously threatening me with strippers? Of course she would. She knows if she didn’t implement a backup plan, her efforts would be ignored. Though I can only imagine what she actually has planned, if I’m honest, I could really use a break from here with all of the hours and back-breaking labor that we have put into this place in the last week. Knowing Chanin the way I do, I probably need to make arrangements for Ruth to get to her friend’s house because there is no telling what time the birthday shenanigans will end. Pulling out my phone from my purse, I scroll down to the number for Elleese, the mother of Ruth’s friend. There was no way I was letting Ruth spend the night somewhere without at least talking to a parent first, so I had gone over and met with Elleese last night.
Me: This is Ruth’s mother, Erin. Will you be picking up your daughter from school today?
Elleese: Yes. Did you need Ruth to ride home with us from school?
Me: If she could ride home with you that would be great! She brought her bag with her to school.
Elleese: No problem! I will have her call when we get to our house.
Me: Thank you!
Elleese: You bet!
With that detail worked out and no other excuses for me to make, I grab my bags and head for the door. Typing the address into the GPS, I pull out of the parking lot and wonder what I’m walking into.
“You have reached your destination,” my GPS tells me as I stare out the windshield and take in the beautiful architecture of the building sitting before me. When I read the word “Spa” on the large sign in the front, it registers to me that Chanin has apparently set up a day of much needed relaxation. She knows me so well that I can’t help but plaster a huge grin on my face at that thought. I’m sure that to most people I am boring, and I am even more certain that it is on my list as one of the many things I would change about myself if I could, but relaxing and taking it easy is my favorite pastime. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that today is going to be exactly what I need it to be. Ruth, you’re going to hate that you missed this!
Brushing my hair over my shoulder and propping my fist under my chin, I stand at the counter and wait for an attendant to come to the front desk, taking in the classically chic ambiance of the place. Bouquets of gorgeous long-stemmed roses adorn crystal vases sitting on every lace covered surface of the main room. Plush cream suede seating placed in each individual alcove of the space, decorated with rose colored throw pillows. Pale pink walls with oversized wide gold rimmed mirrors hang on each wall, placed perfectly throughout the entirety of the large room.
“Hello Miss, can I help you,” a petite and very stylish Asian woman asks as she steps around the corner and stands behind the large deep mahogany podium. I smile in return, taking a moment to glance down and read the gold tag pinned to her shirt.
“Yes, Hi Vicki. I am here meeting my boss along with two of my co-workers.” She opens the leather bound book sitting on the podium and peers down at the names listed.
“Of course. What is the name of your party?”
“Chanin Grace, Ma’am.”
“Wonderful. They are in our Grand Suite. Follow me back.” I nod at Vicki and proceed to follow her down the hallway, taking in the pieces of elegant art that line the walls with every step we take. When we come to the end of the hallway, Vicki opens a set of double doors that leads up a short set of marble covered stairs. Reaching the top, I almost stumble and land face first on the massive floor before me. The room is in fact a “Grand” suite. The walls of the room are virtually one large continuous floor to ceiling window, lighting the room naturally with the glow of the mid-morning sun that comes in from all angles. There is a cream leather sectional in one corner with a low mahogany coffee table sitting before it, covered with every fruit, cheese and bread known to man, and several decanters of red and white wines. Sitting in the middle of the room is a linen tent that stands about 8 feet tall. I can see steam rolling up from a pit of stones built into the floor in the middle of the tent, along with four plush massage tables set up and crisp white sheets atop each one. Lost in my appraisal, I realize the three amigos are nowhere to be found, so I look over to Vicki in question. She is apparently very good at her job because she answers without me having to speak.
“They are outside on the roof deck, Miss,” she waves her arm forward in a gesture for me to proceed.
I take a step further into the room, this time careful not to bust my ass as I walk across the elegant but slick floor. Exiting through the glass doors and onto the roof deck, I’m met with Mel’s uncontrollable laughter. I hate that I’ve missed even a minute of the shenanigans, but knowing that happiness and good spirits are freely flowing tells me I’ve arrived at the perfect time.
“Bout time you got here Mouse,” Leelan shouts as he spots me walking toward them, forcing Chanin and Mel to turn their attention in my direction. A shriek of excitement leaves Mel and she all but bounces toward me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
“I concur with Lee, Sweets! Let’s get the party started, shall we,” Mel says, squeezing me before dropping her arm and picking up her glass of wine off the patio table. Chanin grabs one of my hands with hers, a look of hopeful giddiness in her eyes.
“Were you pleased when you arrived,” she asks, waving her arm out in a show of appreciation for the venue.
“Of course! You apparently know me better than I thought,” a sly yet subtle grin playing on my lips as I give her a slight bump with my hip. “You really didn’t have to do all of this Chanin.”
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to give you a day that’s long overdue. Birthday or not,” she gives me a loving smile. Cutting off our conversation, a male dressed in a white polo shirt and slacks, stands at the entrance of the glass doors.
