“Marian,” I try again. My low voice drowns in the reverberations of her tirade.
“I can’t believe what I’ve done. I’ve ruined everything! I’m such a fool.” Her hair a complete bleached rat’s nest, her cheeks tear soaked and stained black with running mascara, Marian plunks her shaking body onto the hardwood floor. “Everything bad has just become a million times worse!”
It takes what feels like forever to get her to stop shouting, to quit pulling her hair and pounding her fists on the floor, to suppress the tears for at least the length of one breath.
“Marian,” I say in a cautious tone. I’m sitting with her on the cold floor, pushing her long matted hair away from her face.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize that Marian’s wild outburst has Cole written all over it. I knew she’d been planning to finally step out of her car and actually approach Cole. I wasn’t sure when, but when she stormed through the door a couple of minutes ago, like a bloodthirsty maniac ready to attack, I had my answer. I’d had a horrible suspicion this approaching-Cole thing wouldn’t go down so well. However, I hadn’t quite imagined the deafening rampage. I’d hoped it’d be more like Charlotte and Marco’s recent episode, even mine and Adam’s. More forgiveness and fewer mascara-stained cheeks.
At long last, with Marian at the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen her, curled up in a fetal position in my arms on the floor, she explains what happened.
“After work,” she says, “I drove to the firehouse and waited a couple of minutes in my car to see if Cole was there. There were a few guys out in the drive and in the garage, but none was Cole.” She swallows. “The longer I waited there, the longer I started to doubt my intentions. I probably should have taken that as a sign to get the hell out of there.” She sighs with obvious regret.
“I was just about ready to go back home, deciding I don’t have what it takes to tell Cole how I really feel, when, as if on cue, he appeared.”
“Yeah?” I say, curiosity thick in my voice.
“My heart raced.” Her eyes grow wide. “And I was filled with crazy optimism. Like . . . like I knew.” She presses her palm to her chest. “I knew in my heart of hearts that I was supposed to see him. I can’t explain it. It was a heart or a soul thing.”
Her words bring to mind Adam’s similar words when he first explained to me that he wanted a child. There are some things you can’t explain—matters of the heart. Deep and true matters that stir your soul and drive you to do things that are equally unexplainable.
“It was the strangest thing, but all my fear just flew out that car door as soon as I opened it,” Marian explains. “As soon as I saw him. As I walked straight up to him.” Goose bumps start to prickle my arms. “I tell you, Halley, as soon as our eyes met, I couldn’t feel any part of my body.” She exhales slowly, as if living the scene all over again and trying to gather the strength to do what she went there to do.
“It sounds corny, but as soon as I looked into Cole’s eyes, I—I—I knew what I was doing was right. I knew it was dangerous and in some ways cruel. But it felt right.” She pounds a fist on her chest. “It hurt, but it felt like finally I was being real. Being honest.” She pushes her hair behind her ears and sits up out of her fetal position. “He was so beautiful, Hals. And he didn’t run off or shut me down. He heard me out.”
“That’s good,” I say in a peppy tone.
She tilts her head to one side and raises a brow. “Just wait.” She shakes her head as she continues. “God, I’ve never forgiven myself for hurting him, Hals. I really owed him an apology and an explanation, so I just kept telling myself that over and over. I had to follow through. And then he said my name, when he saw me, and I nearly lost it. The way he said it was kind of empty. Like he was shocked, yes. Angry, yes. Confused, definitely. A little glad, maybe? Anyway, I told him everything, right there, just spilling it all. I knew if I stopped I’d lose the stamina, the courage. Probably break down in tears.”
At the mention of the word tears her eyes start to get watery. I embrace her, which gives her the push she needs to keep calm.
“I told him it was all my fault,” she says, pulling back. “The running away, the being afraid, the lie about only feeling like friends. I told him I’ve realized after all this time that I was my truest happy when I was with him. No one’s ever made me feel the way he has. He was my most real relationship.” She looks down at her hands in her lap. “And I told him it wasn’t just that way because I hadn’t had many, if any, relationships that lasted longer than a few months. Like, he’s the longest relationship so it must be the right one. No. I love Cole. I always have. If there is a one for me, Halley, it’s him. It’s only ever been him.”
“I know, Marian.” I tighten my hold around her. “He’s got it.”
“Exactly! Anyway,” she says helplessly, beginning to pick at her nails. I lightly swat her hand. She’ll only be upset with herself for damaging a fresh manicure fill. “I say all of this to him. And I say that I know this is entirely unfair to do to him, that he can hate me if he wants—which, obviously, I don’t expect him to. God, right?” I nod.
“And I tell him the reason I’m there is because I want to tell him how I really feel, tell him the truth, after all this time. That I miss him and love him. And I made a huge mistake. That if there’s any chance in hell he feels the same for me, don’t we owe it to each other, and to ourselves, to give it a try? Like you said! We only get one shot at life, so . . . might as well see. Right?”
“Good. And?”
“And”—she bobs her head from side to side—“I asked him to forgive me. That above all, I was sorry. Even if he wanted nothing to do with me after all this, I had to tell him how sorry I was to run off, to hurt him like I did. Even though I’d apologized the day after I ran out on our wedding, it was just so rushed, and everything was so fresh, you know? I was in an awful place. I told him I was selfish with what I’d done then, and that maybe even now I was selfish springing this on him. I told him, though, that if he felt about me, today, the way I do, I’d hope he’d come and tell me.”
“That’s good, Marian. Good! And then what’d he say?”
“Well . . . since I was being honest . . . I told him about the pregnancy scare.”
I suck in a breath. “And?”
“That was a shocker. Probably only added to his hating me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Oh no, he does.” She firmly presses her lips together, as if to quell the onslaught of tears. “He hates me.”
“Marian—”
“After all this, after asking him if he doesn’t want to see if there’s something that can be had between us after all this time—even a friendship, you know?—then if anything I beg for his forgiveness. I hurt him, and I was hurting him some more, and I’ve never forgiven myself for it, because . . . he didn’t have the chance to forgive me first.”
“So . . . what happened? What’d he say then?” I almost don’t want to ask.
She blinks away some tears and says, looking up at the ceiling, “Not much. But enough.”
There’s a long pause as Marian tries to compose herself. When she still doesn’t say anything after a lengthy silence, she begins to grip the sides of her head again. She scratches her fingers in her hair.
“I’m so stupid! So, so, so stupid! I deserve this pain.” She squeezes her eyes shut and violently shakes her head. “I deserve this rejection. This misery!”
“You’re not stupid, Marian. And you don’t deserve this.”
“I’ve brought this upon myself. I deserve it, Hals. Deserve it all.”
I rub her back in slow, soothing motions.
In a small and broken voice, she says, “It hurts so much I almost wish I could trade this in for the hurt of not knowing.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Halley, he told me he’s single.”
“Okay,” I say in a drawn-out way, thinking this a peculiar thing to make note of.
“He said he dates, sure, but that he’s never gotten married. He was engaged at one point and broke it off. Never married. You know why?” I shake my head. “He said after what happened with us, he’s not sure he believes in marriage.” She breaks down into a fit of tears. “Can you believe it?” Her words come out wet and mumbled against her palms. “He told me I hurt him more than he ever thought possible. And he said—”
“Yes?”
“He said he wished I wouldn’t have come to see him. That all I was doing was hurting him all over again. Which I knew! I knew there was that chance. Oh, Halley, it hurts so much.”
Rubbing her back and rocking her in my arms, I say, “We’ll work this out. The pain will eventually go away.”
“No, it won’t,” she says. “It may lessen, but it’ll never go away entirely. I lost my forever, Halley. I’m glad I was honest with him and that I gave our what-if a chance, but that chance is lost and gone forever. I waited too long, and now it’s all ruined.”
“Marian?” I say after some time sitting and rocking in silence.
“Hmm?” She sounds sleepy. I look down at her face. Her eyes are closed, clumps of mascara and runny eyeliner all over them.
“You have your answer now. What you did was really brave,” I say. “He may not have said what you were hoping to hear, but he listened, and he responded. That’s something.”
“It’s something, but it’s not enough.”
“Maybe he needs some time?” I’m reaching here. “Like Adam and I’ve needed time.”
“Oh god, I know this is so selfish, but you can’t leave me now!” Marian cries at the realization that she’ll be roommate-less soon.
“I’m not running anywhere just yet,” I assure her.
“It’s super selfish of me, but please, Halley, just . . . stay here a little bit longer.”
“I’m here, Marian. Don’t you worry about that.” I smooth back her hair. “Maybe Cole needs a little time to process all this,” I say, upbeat. “You’ve had a lot of time to think about approaching him. He didn’t see this coming. For him, you were there, at the firehouse, telling him all this, out of the blue. Honestly, it sounds like he handled it a lot better than most guys would.”
“Of course he did. Cole’s perfect.”
“How about we turn on some Friends and let this one pass for the night?”
“Always sleeping on our troubles,” she says with a resigned sigh.
“Better than sleeping with them, right?”
That gets her to laugh, and since she’s Marian Kroeber and, god, I love her for it, she says, “Maybe sleeping with bad-boy trouble ain’t such a bad idea right about now.”
I laugh. “You sure you’re prepared to settle down with Cole, one man, for the rest of your life?” She gives me a stern sideways look and I say, “Sorry, too soon.”
“Not having Cole is why I don’t want commitment, Hals. For me it’s Cole—”
“Or no one,” I finish, and she smiles and nods.
“I get that, Marian. I completely get that.”
Time can be a magical healer of wounds. Though in the thick of it, when the wound is fresh and gaping and you’re exposed and vulnerable, the last thing you want to hear is this silly feel-better adage, and you can’t possibly imagine how you’ll ever heal. In that moment the pain is too much to bear. The idea of healing is so inconceivable all you want to do is crawl into bed, draw the blinds, and wallow in pain, pity, and despair. Yet sure enough, days pass, and time begins to heal. Slowly.
Marian has been anyone but herself lately, although she’s much closer today than she was a couple of nights ago, curled up in that vulnerable fetal position. I called Adam right away after the Marian-and-Cole blowup, letting him know that Marian really needed me now. I still planned on returning home before Christmas, but I didn’t see the use in running out on my best friend when she needed me most. Not when Adam and I had already been apart for so long. What was a few more days?
The way he said “I love you” at the end of our call in only one way—the way it’s meant to be said and heard between a husband and wife—reminded me that this is the right decision. Adam is my perfect other half. He’s my partner, my love, the man I want to spend my life with. That’s why when I return home next weekend I will accept the fact that in our separation we have decided on a compromise. And if that compromise is enough for Adam, the one who’s making the sacrifice, it should sure as hell be enough for me.
With only a few weeks before Rylan’s due date, I check in with Nina. She’s in the homestretch and grateful to be on bed rest. I offer to drop by after work, but she insists she’s in no condition to see anybody or do anything.
“I feel like I’m carrying two giant watermelons,” Nina says over the phone. “I’m always too hot or too cold, and I’ve got to pee every five minutes. I don’t even bother with makeup at this point. I just sweat it all off.”
Despite her ticking off one miserable point after another, I find Nina’s tone and exasperated sighs comical.
“I’m not kidding around,” Nina says, laughing along with me. “Every pregnancy book I’ve read says the last few weeks are like this, and boy, are they right.”
“Well, you’re a trouper hanging in there.”
“I can’t even watch reruns of The Office anymore, because I almost pee myself from laughing so hard.”
“Oh, Nina,” I say, laughing so hard myself I’m nearly in tears.
“And I’ve seen every episode, like, a hundred times, so you’d think they’d get old. Nope. I just laugh. And then I pee.”
“Nina, you’re too much.”
“It’s just as well. I shouldn’t be watching so much TV anyway. Probably rotting Rylan’s mind before he’s even here. I’ve been reading a ton.”
“Hey! That reminds me. I finished the book you lent me,” I say.
“And?”
“I really enjoyed it. Thanks for that.” The novel came at an ideal time in life—a story of a woman trying to figure out her place in the world, her role in life, her purpose.
“And the ending?” Nina says.
In the end the protagonist returns home to rural Virginia to discover that it is not home. And neither are any of the countries and exotic lands she’d visited. Home is a global concept to her, and so she sets out for another vagabond-like adventure as soon as she arrives stateside.
“Didn’t quite expect it, but I like how it wrapped up in a way of not wrapping up,” I say.
I glance at my watch and note that I should be heading over to Charlotte’s. She called earlier, lamenting that her babysitter had bailed at the last minute and her backup wasn’t available. Before she could get a chance to ask, I said I’d be over to watch the kids. Today is Charlotte and Marco’s first counseling session. On top of being nervous about their first session, Charlotte had to deal with finding a sitter with only hours to spare.
“Well, Nina, I’m on my way to Charlotte’s now,” I say. “Babysitting duty. You hang in there, okay? Only a little while more.”
“You got it,” she says cheerfully. “And hopefully I’ll see you at the hospital soon.”
“I’m sure Rylan will come early,” I say in an effort to lift some of that weight off her. “Not too early,” I add, “but when he’s good and ready.”
“Thanks, Halley. I’m glad you called. And I’m really glad you and Adam have worked things out.”
“Me, too.”
I arrive at Charlotte’s within minutes of her and Marco needing to leave to make their appointment on time. As I make my hurried way to their front door I notice Marco behind the wheel of his idle car. His unexpected presence in the driveway causes me to do a double take. He gives me a brief glance, his face pinched. Unnerved, I give a weak wave and tight-lipped smile. He doesn’t return the wave. Rather, his expression moves from tense to vacant before he turns his head and looks straight ahead at the closed garage, one hand coming up to grip the steering wheel.
As soon as I wal
k into the house, Charlotte gives me a quick rundown on who needs what to eat and when, and opens up the kitchen pantry door to point out the list of emergency phone numbers taped to its inside. I tell her I’ve got it handled and wish her good luck. (She’s going to need all she can get, judging by Marco’s expression.) Then she flies out the door, leaving me with Alice, George, and Leah, all of whom are pleasantly silent and entertained in their own ways. Alice, with her book, is seated solo in a beanbag in a corner of the living room. George, with his plastic cup of Cheerios, is methodically placing one piece of cereal on top of each of his Hot Wheels cars. Leah, with a sippy cup in her mouth and plush pink blanket draped over her tiny body, is slowly fading into sleep on the baby mattress Charlotte keeps in the living room for sporadic naps (or time-outs). At first glance the gig’s not bad. But give me a few rowdy hours and I could very well be pulling my hair out.
As I cast about at my well-behaved and self-entertaining nieces and nephew, I realize I have the best job in the world when it comes to kids. The role of the aunt, even though it has included some diaper changing and has required me to administer discipline on rare occasion, is perfect. As an aunt you have such great love for the tiniest members of your family, and you get to spoil them with gifts, adventures, and giant auntie hugs, while skipping the tiresome day-in and day-out parental duties. You get the kids without the raising, without the round-the-clock responsibilities, without the motherhood. While this afternoon confirms for Charlotte and Marco that they are going to work on their marriage and save what they have, it confirms for me that I was always meant to be an aunt and never a mother. And there is nothing wrong with that. I am no less a woman, no less a person with a purpose.
“Auntie Halley?” Alice asks as she closes her book, carefully placing her colorful bookmark between the pages.
“Yes, Alice?” I temporarily stop gathering the Cheerios George has littered across the floor and sofa.
Everything the Heart Wants Page 23
