Crystal Lies

by Melody Carlson

  I glanced at the kitchen clock—only $6.99, who knew?—and if my inexpensive clock was correct it was after four o’clock. My new bed had finally been delivered yesterday afternoon, and although I’d moved up from the floor to the futon in Jacobs room during the previous nights, I was still feeling sleep deprived and exhausted. So I decided to take a short nap, just until Jacob got here, which I felt would be any minute. I left my front door unlocked just in case I didn’t hear him knocking, knowing that would be nearly impossible in such a small apartment. But I was taking no chances.

  When I woke up, it was nearly eight thirty, and as far as I could tell, Jacob hadn’t been there yet. Instead of turning on the lights, I decided to light some of the candles I’d confiscated from my previous home. Geoffrey had told me we shouldn’t be lighting candles after he read an article on how the candle smoke can leave a thin coating of soot on the walls and furnishings, although I’d never seen that happen myself. Still, I continued to light candles when Geoffrey was working late or gone for a weekend conference. I guess it was my little rebellion. And tonight I was pleased by the effect of the candles in the apartment. It seemed to soften the edges, and somehow it made the spaces seem cozier and yet more spacious too.

  Noticing my grocery store flowers still sitting in the juice pitcher in the sink, I remembered that I’d wanted to hunt down something to put them in. I knew I’d brought my crystal vase from home. It had been a gift from Geoffrey, something I’d almost left behind, but then, feeling sentimental, I’d decided to bring it along. Geoffrey had given this to me for our twenty-fifth anniversary last June. It was a lovely Waterford piece and had been filled with twenty-five perfect red roses—one for each year of our “perfect” marriage. One thing about Geoffrey: he always knew how to give perfect gifts, and he was never cheap about it, either.

  He had also presented me with a brochure filled with glossy photos of sunny beaches and palm trees, promising me a trip to the Caribbean to commemorate our milestone. “Sorry, sweetheart. We’ll have to wait until this case is over,” he had explained over a lovely anniversary dinner at Sindalli’s. “But we can have a belated celebration this fall. Maybe by late September.” Naturally, I had agreed with him. When had I not agreed with him? Well, other than this thing with Jacob.

  I rummaged around in the tiny linen closet right next to the bathroom and found the beautiful crystal vase. Looking out of place wedged between a package of toilet paper and some tile cleaner, the vase with all its cut-glass intricacies shimmered in the candlelight as I pulled it out and carried it into the living room. Although it was much too grand for this little apartment, still I put my grocery store flowers in it, then set the arrangement on the small secondhand coffee table in front of the couch. Such a lovely gift, a souvenir of a past that now seemed out of reach.

  Had I been stupid to leave Geoffrey like that, to walk away from twenty-five years of marriage? Not that I’d meant to leave permanently. That had never been my actual goal. I think I had considered it to be more of a break, like a mental-health day, or week or month. I needed a time away from everything, a time for me to figure things out and to hopefully help Jacob. But what had I figured out, really? And how had I helped Jacob? The light from the candles grew blurry as my eyes suddenly filled with tears, and I questioned everything about myself. What had I done?

  Did I think my absence would get Geoffrey’s attention? Had I subconsciously thought that he’d miss me so much he’d jump into his Porsche and come flying over here, that he’d fall on his knees and beg me to forgive him? That he’d promise to be the father Jacob needed, and he’d take me into his arms and swear to me that everything would be different from here on out? My shining knight on a perfect white horse? Wasn’t that how the fairy tales ended? Or at least those bachelor reality shows on TV?

  I got a tissue and blew my nose. But I am forty-eight years old, I reminded myself, and old enough to know that the characters in fairy tales don’t necessarily live happily ever after. Right? But maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe I was the one who should’ve gone running back. Maybe I should’ve gotten down on my knees and apologized to him. After all, I was the one who had left. My own daughter had even told me as much. I paced back and forth in my now somewhat livable apartment. Had I been wrong?

  Suddenly I felt a real sense of urgency. I imagined Geoffrey sitting alone in that big house, weary from a hard week at work—it was almost time for the city’s case to go to court, and he’d probably been working long, hard hours to get everything perfectly prepared. I envisioned him sitting by himself in the kitchen, which by now would be quite messy, eating a lukewarm microwave dinner and wearing a wrinkled shirt with a coffee stain on the front. Oh, I knew I was being overly dramatic, but I also knew better than anyone that Geoffrey was not the kind of man who could take care of himself. He didn’t even know how to run the washing machine. And what about Winnie and Rufus? Did I really think that Geoffrey was going to take care of them? I would feel terrible if my absence had hurt those two innocent animals in any way.

  I quickly blew out the candles and dashed off a note for Jacob, just in case he showed, then I jumped into the Range Rover and drove toward the house. Oh, what had I been thinking? I chastised myself. Had I even been thinking at all? Surely Sarah had been right. Surely the most important thing for me to do right now was to save my marriage. Why was I such a fool?

  “God help me,” I prayed aloud as I drove. “Help me not to blow this.”

  I must admit that the idea of being back in that spacious home and sleeping on those four-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets (which I could no longer afford) and taking scented bubble baths in my big whirlpool tub and looking out the front windows onto the city lights below—well, it did have a certain appeal. Especially after being absent from all that luxury for one long and exhausting week. Maybe I was the one who needed to learn a lesson, I thought, as I drove up the winding street that led to our house.

  But when I got there, I noticed a car in the driveway. So instead of pulling right in and bursting into the house with my now somewhat-rehearsed apology, I drove on past and parked in front of the house next door. I didn’t recognize the car in the driveway, but that wasn’t such a big deal since I’d always been bad at recognizing cars. It was small and red and sporty, and I suspected it belonged to one of his legal friends. Maybe John Howard, since I’d heard he’d gone through a midlife crisis, and this looked like a midlife crisis sort of vehicle to me.

  Since the lights were on in the house, I knew I could easily slip up and peer in without being noticed. I wasn’t quite ready to interrupt what might be an important business meeting, and I knew I could wait for John or whomever to leave or even come back in the morning. But curious as to the condition of my poor, abandoned husband, I decided to take a peek inside. I crept up behind the laurel hedge that lines the driveway and then over to the window that looks into the dining room. I crouched in the rhododendron bushes by the house for a couple of minutes. I think I was even holding my breath until I got up the nerve to poke my nose over the window sill and look inside.

  My heart must’ve stopped when I saw them. Not that they were doing anything wrong, exactly. Even so, it looked all wrong. At least to my eyes. Because there, sitting at my dining room table, was my husband and Judith Ramsey. Even though I knew she was the city manager and this might’ve been an official business meeting, I somehow knew that it was not. Maybe it was the way they leaned in toward each other as they talked with animation. Or maybe it was the bottle of wine on the table—Geoffrey and I have never been drinkers. Or maybe it was my husbands face, the easy smile and sparkling eyes—an expression I hadn’t witnessed in years. It was the same look he’d had in the photograph with Judith from his birthday party. The brightly burning candles offered more evidence that Geoffrey was no longer himself anymore than I was.

  I sank down into the bushes and, pulling my knees toward my chest, buried my head and silently wept. I felt unable to breathe or even think,
and I have no idea how long I stayed there in that crouched position. Finally, like a whipped and beaten animal, I slunk through the yard, across the driveway, and back to my car. Standing in the shadows, I dug through my purse to find my keys. Then I turned around for one last look, and something about seeing that sporty little red car parked in my driveway just flipped some crazy switch in my brain. Call it temporary insanity or whatever, but I ran back over there determined to let the air out of those perky little tires.

  But when I got to her car, I took a deep breath and calmly ran my key along the entire length of the driver’s side, digging a nice deep gouge of rage into the shiny red paint.

  I was instantly embarrassed to catch myself doing something that immature, and I’ll probably never admit those actions to any living human. But I just couldn’t help myself. Then I drove home.

  I felt numb as I dragged myself up the stairs to my apartment. By now the realization was actually sinking in. My husband, the man I’d been married to for twenty-five years, was probably having an affair. It all seemed so unreal, so cliché even. Hadn’t I seen this same movie on Lifetime last year? I felt trapped in someone else’s nightmare, unable to even take it all in. I was so distracted by those emotions I didn’t even notice that the note I’d left taped to the door was gone as I went inside.

  “Mom,” said Jacob with a smile.

  I blinked into the light. “Jacob?”

  “Are you all right?” He came closer now, putting his hand on my shoulder. To my surprise he didn’t look too bad. His was clean and shaved and even looked sober.

  “I…uh…I’m not sure.”

  “What’s wrong?” He reached over and plucked a rhododendron leaf from my hair. “Where have you been anyway?”

  I sank down onto the couch and just shook my head. Then before I had time to think or reconsider, I poured out my awful story.

  Jacob gently put his arm around my shoulder and actually hugged me. “It’s going to be okay, Mom,” he said in a soothing and surprisingly mature voice.

  I looked at him through my tears and somehow, despite my broken heart, I was able to smile. “I’m so glad you came home, Jake.” He nodded. “I’m sorry I’m so late, but I got a job.”

  I blinked. “You got a job?”

  “Yeah, a friend of mine helped me get on at Mama Mia’s Pizza.” He made a face. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, and I get free food.”

  I reached out and hugged him then. “Oh, Jacob, I’m so proud of you.

  He frowned. “Well, I haven’t done much to make you proud yet. And I’m really sorry that I’ve been such a total screwup, but that’s all going to change now.”

  “Really?” I studied his face and was surprised at how bright and happy his countenance appeared. Almost as if he’d had some sort of revelation.

  “Yeah. I had some time to think about everything—you know, my life and where it’s heading and everything. And, to be totally honest, I wasn’t making the greatest choices when I first left home. I did some stuff, well, some things I’m not too proud of. But I woke up a couple of days ago, and I just realized this has to stop.”

  I nodded eagerly. “Yes! You’re right, Jacob. Oh, I’m so happy for you.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, I am too. And I made this really good friend. His name is Daniel, and he’s a lot older than me, about thirty I think, but he’s been through a lot of the same kind of stuff, and he really understands me. He’s the one who helped get me on at Mama Mia’s.”

  “That’s great.” I reached for a tissue to wipe the tears from my face.

  “And I’m really sorry about that crap with you and Dad.” He scowled. “I had a feeling that something like that was going on.”

  “Really?”

  “Remember, I sort of tried to warn you that day I left home. I said we were all going to get hurt.”

  I nodded. “So that’s what you meant.”

  “One time I went to Dad’s office to see if he could loan me some gas money, just so I could get home, you know. Anyway, his secretary wasn’t there, so I just walked in like normal. And I didn’t exactly see anything for sure, but the way those two were acting, you know, the looks on their faces. I felt pretty sure I’d caught them at something. But the truth is, I was a little strung out at the time, so later on I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it or not. But I really don’t think I did.”

  “Do you remember when that was?”

  He frowned. “A pretty long time ago. Like last spring maybe. I think I was still in school.”

  “Oh.”

  He shook his head. “Man, I’m really sorry, Mom. It looks like the guys in your life have really let you down.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “Your dad has let me down—hugely. But you’re getting your life back on track now, Jacob. Honestly, I don’t think anyone else could’ve helped me through this night the way that seeing you has done.”

  He smiled brightly now. “Cool.” Then he nodded toward the kitchen. “I hope it’s okay that I was fixing myself something to eat.”

  “Of course. Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.” My attempt at lightness was as thin as cellophane, but Jacob didn’t seem to notice.

  “All right.” He laughed as he went into the kitchen. “By the way, I really like what you’ve done with the place, Mom. When I first got here, I couldn’t imagine you living in an apartment like this.”

  I attempted a laugh now. “Yeah, it was a pretty big change.”

  “But you’ve made it look really cool in here.”

  “Thanks.”

  I sat down on a barstool and watched as Jacob meticulously built himself a sandwich. Suppressing my churning emotions, I watched him layer on lettuce and tomatoes and cheese, carefully spreading mayonnaise and putting on a thick wad of roast beef. He really did look good, and healthy, too. And so, despite the blow I’d just suffered and the dull ache ricocheting inside, I told myself that perhaps my life wasn’t going to end tonight after all. If my only purpose for being alive at this moment was to help Jacob, well, so be it. Wasn’t that what a mother was supposed to do?

  Nonetheless, I cried myself to sleep that night. But in the midst of my tears, I still paused to thank God for returning my son home safely to me. “Help us to pick up the pieces,” I prayed—my first real prayer in months. “Show me where to go from here.”

  I called Sherry the next day and told her I needed to talk. We agreed to meet at my apartment as soon as Jacob went to work.

  “This must be serious,” she said when I opened the door and let her in. She glanced around with obvious curiosity. “Since it’s the first time you’ve let me actually see your apartment.”

  I frowned. “Yeah, welcome to my humble abode.” Then I collapsed on the couch and put my head in my hands.

  “Talk to me,” said Sherry, sitting down beside me. “What’s wrong?”

  I took a deep breath, attempting to steady myself. “It’s Geoffrey,” I told her, looking up. “I think he’s having an affair.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “No way, Glennis. Not Geoffrey.”

  I nodded. “I really think so, Sherry.” Then I told her about sneaking home the night before and seeing him there with Judith. About the candles, the wine—everything.

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I wish I was.” I shook my head. “And you know what’s really stupid?” Fresh tears were filling my eyes again.

  Sherry reached over and took my hand.

  “I…I had gone over there to…to tell him that…I…I was sorry.”

  Then I broke into sobs.

  Sherry hugged me and assured me that everything was going to be okay How she knew this was way beyond me, but I wanted to believe her.

  Finally I managed to stop crying and attempted to compose myself as I told her the good news about Jacob.

  “Well, at least that’s something,” she said with a bright smile.

  “Yeah. It felt like a real lifeline last night.”

  “See,”
she said,“God is listening to your prayers.”

  I took in a jagged breath. “Maybe some of my prayers…”

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “I…uh…I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”

  She considered this. “Well, do you really believe he’s having an affair?”

  “I don’t know for sure.” Then last night’s scene flashed through my mind again, and I nodded. “I really believe he is. If you’d seen the look on their faces, Sherry…” I covered my mouth with my hand, certain that I was about to be sick, or maybe I was going to scream.

  “Oh, Glennis.” She just shook her head.

  “And even if they’re not…not sleeping together…yet…” I bit into my lip as I thought about this possibility. “I know it’s just a matter of time.” Then I told her what Jacob had said about finding them in Geoffrey’s office last spring.

  “Well, you guys have both been under a lot of stress, Glennis. I suppose it’s possible that Geoffrey used this as an excuse to, well, stray.”

  “An excuse?”

  “Oh, you know what I mean.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “But what do I do now?” I looked around my little apartment and realized that this might really turn into my permanent home now. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

  Sherry grew thoughtful, and I waited. Finally she said. “I think you should confront him.”