“Yes. Hope you both have a good week.”
I stand and quickly leave, getting to the elevators before Heidi can. I left this morning with a plan. With only have a small window of time, I knew I needed to be prepared so I could leave without Heidi catching me. I pull the picture and note from my wallet. When I reach Heidi’s car, I tuck it underneath the wiper. My note is simple and I hope her answer is yes.
I want to be this happy again. Don’t you?
***
THERE’S A GLASS of wine in one hand and the picture in the other. It’s the two of us on the beach. It was taken right after we signed the papers for the vacation house. I can’t even describe how happy we look. Bright smiles, gleaming eyes, wind blown hair, and it’s all perfect.
“What are you doing?”
I turn to see Mom standing in the kitchen.
“Jordan.” It’s all I can get out. I hand her the picture and take another large gulp of wine.
“He loves you.” She hands it back to me.
“I don’t love him anymore.”
“Heidi, you’re lying.” Mom stares at me. “You need to realize he only wants to help you.”
“He wants kids!” I abruptly yell. “He wants more kids. He wants to put me through all that heartache and pain again.” I drop my head in my hands and sob into them.
I feel Mom’s arms awkwardly hug me; she can’t wrap her arms around me because I’m still in the kitchen chair. She strokes my hair and repeats over and over that I’ll be okay.
When the doctor told us Eden was stillborn, my heart shattered into a million pieces and it will never be repaired. About two months later, Jordan began talking about having more kids and I couldn’t bear the thought. I can’t go through it again. I can’t, and I won’t do it.
“Heidi, have you eaten today?” Mom asks once I calm down a bit.
“I’m not hungry.” I reach for my wine, but she takes it away from me. “What are you doing?”
“Wash your face. Get cleaned up. We’re going out. Now.” Her short, commanding sentences mean I’m not going to argue. I do as she told me.
When I come back from the bathroom, Mom is standing by the door, purse on her shoulder, and she’s holding my purse out. I take the bag from her hand and follow her out the door.
“Where are we going?”
“Out.” She has my car keys in her hands.
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
Mom glares at me for a second. “I know how to work a GPS. However, it’s unnecessary right now because I know how to get to the airport.”
“Airport?”
“Your dad is landing soon.”
“I’m surprised he waited this long.” I giggle.
Mom smiles. “He misses you too.”
I nod as Mom drives off toward the interstate and heads to the airport.
On the drive, I mainly stare out the window and when we finally pick up Dad, they talk more to each other than to me. It’s fine. I know they haven’t seen each other for almost a week. They don’t tend to be away from each other for long periods of time.
It’s love that keeps them together.
It’s a love I want to have one day. I thought it was there with Jordan, but he’s constantly talking about babies and having a family; it’s something I’m not ready for. When I became pregnant, it was everything I wanted at the time. Now, it’s not.
I have the salon. I have my own goals and aspirations. I could open more salons or become a modern day Elizabeth Arden or a female Paul Mitchell. Hell, I can be anything because I’m not tied down with a husband and kids. I did want a husband and kids, but not anymore. I haven’t gotten over Eden’s death yet, but I know what I need to carry on and that’s to think about me.
Dad demands we go to a steakhouse and I give directions to Mom to the nearest one. Dad rattles on about how hungry he is. I’m thankful the place isn’t busy because Dad is still moaning about food.
After the waiter takes our order and brings us our drinks, Dad turns to me and jumps right in. “Why are you going through with this dumbass idea?”
“What?” I sit my water down.
“This divorce thing, or whatever you’re doing to Jordan.”
I roll my eyes. “Dad, I know how much you and Mom care about Jordan and I love that about you because he needs family. However, I’m not doing anything to him. This has been coming for a long time, and I finally made the first move.”
“He loves you,” Dad says.
“And you love him,” Mom jumps in.
I sigh. I can’t have this conversation for the hundredth time. “I care for Jordan. He will always have a special place in my heart, but we’re divorcing. There’s no need to continue talking about it or trying to get me to change my mind. It’s happening and this is over!” I realize I raised my voice and catch a glance from the table next to us. “Sorry.” I politely smile.
Mom gently grips my hand. “We just want to see you happy. Both of you.” Her tone is soft and caring for and not just for me, but Jordan as well.
“Let’s not talk about it.” I put back on a big smile. “Dad, tell me about your latest golf outing.”
I turn the attention away from me, and the rest of the night is much more relaxing. And there’s no more talk of Jordan.
“Now, we’re moving onto the cars.” Mr. Armstrong clicks his pen a few times before heading down the list. “The Honda CR-V, who is keeping this one?”
“I am,” I answer quickly. “I mean I’d like to because I use it the most.”
“Mr. Johnson?” Mr. Armstrong asks in his normal stern voice.
“Yes, she can have it.” He glances at me, but I try to avoid the hurt in his eyes. All there seems to be is pain. I know he’ll find someone to erase the hurt I’ve caused him.
“All right. The Silverado?” Mr. Armstrong ticks another on the list on his paper.
“That’s Jordan’s truck. It’s his to keep,” I answer for Jordan.
“Okay. Then we have a 1969 Ford Mustang.”
“It’s Jordan and my dad’s.” I smile at the memories. Jordan and my dad bonded over old junky cars. In the years we’ve been together, they’ve fixed up several of them. It’s their hobby.
“I’d liked to keep it, Heidi,” Jordan says.
“Of course. I wouldn’t take it from you.”
“Okay, the Ford is Mr. Johnson’s. Then there is…wow.” For the first time, Mr. Armstrong shows a real emotion other than his sternness. “1950 Cadillac Coupe Deville. Really?” His eyes are wide.
“Yes. Sam, Heidi’s dad, and I are working on it this year.”
“Now that’s a nice car.” Mr. Armstrong composes himself and looks at me. “Mrs. Johnson?”
“It’s Jordan’s.” I nod.
“Moving on, then.” Mr. Armstrong scratches a few notes and I can feel Jordan staring at me, but I don’t look up at him. “We will move on to the biggest and argumentative part of this. Money and cash.” He sighs and clicks his pen again. “Let’s start with the checking account. There’s one joint and then Mrs. Johnson has her own.”
“That one is for the business,” I inform him.
“There is not a business name on it, and even if it did, you’re still bound to disclose it to Mr. Johnson,” he cuts right back at me.
“She can keep the account and the money in it. I’m not taking it.”
“Well,” Mr. Armstrong quickly writes down a few notes. “Here’s the big issue. Mr. Johnson, you’re currently worth ten million dollars and Mrs. Johnson, even with the business, only forty thousand.” I feel like dirt when he says my number in his tone. “This entitles Mrs. Johnson to alimony.”
“Okay,” Jordan says without Mr. Armstrong even telling him how much I’d get.
“No. No. No,” I repeat over and over, shaking my head. “I don’t want it.”
“You’re taking it.” Jordan narrows his eyes at me.
“I’m not taking your money. I have my business and my own accoun
t; I’m fine.” I glare at him.
“All right. All right.” Mr. Armstrong holds up his hands. “Let’s try this. Mr. Johnson, why don’t you give Mrs. Johnson a one-time settlement payment of one million dollars and there won’t have to be any alimony.”
“Done.” Jordan nods at the same time I say, “No.”
“Heidi, take the money. You want this divorce, so you are taking this money. Open more salons or invest it; I don’t care, but I need to know you’re taken care of.” Jordan voice isn’t mean. It’s firm and tight.
I hate to think of how the money could really elevate Above A Dream, but I push the thought out of my head. I can’t use Jordan’s money to make my business. I received the loan for the salon on my own. But could I get another? Even with the salon doing well, the majority of the profits go right back into the business. It could be a safe cushion for me.
“Okay.” The guilt hits me for taking his money to use on myself.
“Then we’re done,” Mr. Armstrong announces.
“What?” Jordan and I say at the same time.
“There aren’t any more assets; everything seems to be in order.” He gathers his papers.
“What happens next?” I hear my voice crack with the question.
“Well, I send everything to your attorney, Mrs. Johnson, since he’s the one who requested me, and then they’ll draw up the papers. Usually it takes about a month to ensure no other assets or liabilities arise. Then you both will sign and go on with your lives.”
I turn my eyes toward Jordan and he’s between crying and bashing the table with baseball bat. My heart is racing. This is real. I did this and now it’s time to own it. I wanted it, right? And here it is. Jordan quickly rises to his feet, almost knocking over the chair, and races out the door.
I glance at Mr. Armstrong, and he’s staring down at me from his standing position. “I’ve done this for many years, Mrs. Johnson. I’ve never had one go so smoothly. Do you know why this one did?”
I shake my head.
“Because you’re both still in love.” He locks his briefcase and leaves me alone in the conference room.
***
A MONTH.
I have roughly one month to save my marriage.
How in the hell am I going to do that?
After I left Mr. Armstrong’s office, I had to hurry across town. Part of me considered skipping today’s appointment to prolong the process, but I figured it would be long enough as it is. Apparently not, though.
We’re flying out for two days on a mini trip north. My teammates are all around me, chattering, but I’m preoccupied. I can’t lose Heidi. If we divorce, I’ll lose her forever. That can’t happen. I’m hoping that the surprise in her voice when Mr. Armstrong told us we were finished and how her voice broke when she asked what comes next, that it means she isn’t truly wanting this.
Who am I kidding?
I know my wife. She wants a husband and kids. She wants a family. Somewhere underneath her pain and grief, she still wants that and she still loves me. Suddenly, I hear Gemma’s voice in my head, telling me to give Heidi the Jordan she fell in love with.
Letters.
I’ve always been better at communicating with written words than spoken ones. I used to write her letters. That’s how I can win her back.
I abruptly stand, gathering the attention of my teammates around me. “Does anyone have a pen and paper?” I ask, the urge to pour everything out overwhelming me.
They shake their heads, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Feeling defeated, I plop back down into my seat.
“What’s gotten into you?” Colby asks from next to me.
“Nothing,” I mumble.
“Something going on with Heidi?”
I glance at him in confusion, wondering why he would ask, and his gaze drops to where my hand is gripping my wedding band, which is hanging from a necklace around my neck. Usually, I keep it beneath my shirt. It was a hard day when I decided to take it off. It’s easier to avoid questions about my marriage, why my wife doesn’t attend any functions with me, if no one thinks I’m still married. However, I couldn’t bear the thought of not having it on me at all, so I bought a simple chain, slipped it on, and I wear it that way.
To answer him, I simply nod. Colby and I have sort of become friends. While he hates to acknowledge it, he’s the oldest of us. We’ll hang out occasionally, usually to have a beer. The thing I like best about Colby is he doesn’t push or prod and he’ll ask if you want his opinion before telling you what he thinks.
One night during the offseason, Heidi had ignored my call for the third time. To put it simply, I lost it. Colby isn’t one to frequent bars unless we drag him, and that night, I’d dragged him. After a few too many, I embarrassingly blabbered like a lost soul about Heidi and what happened to us.
He doesn’t often bring up the fact that he knows, but when he does, it’s usually in the way he just did. By referring to her by name.
“Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. He nods and leaves it at that. I’m just ready to find a pen and paper when we land.
This game goes a lot better than some we’ve had recently. Our throws are crisp, on target, and land with a hard thunk as they land in our gloves. Colby has been giving me worrisome looks all damn day. He stays silent though, so that’s good.
I’m up to bat. All I ever hope is to do well for my team. Right now though, an out-of-the-park home run would sure make me feel better. There’s nothing quite like hearing the bat crack against the ball, sending it high up in the sky and falling out of the reach of the nearest outfielder.
So, as the pitcher prepares for his pitch, I’m praying hard that I can get this one wish to come true. With everything else falling apart, I deserve this one small thing. The first pitch is a ball, as is the second. The third pitch hits me. Of fucking course. Why should I have this when I can’t have my wife? They are totally different things on opposite ends of the spectrum, but still.
I rub my hip as I walk to first. Son of a bitch, that hurt. Fucking fastball. Tanner is up next and that kid has been a beast lately. He gets my home run. At least I can jog around the bases because my hip aches too much for more than that.
“You all right?” Colby asks when I make my way back into the dugout.
“Yes, Dad,” I grumble, causing a few of the guys to laugh.
Hector playfully flicks the back of my head. “Hey, show respect for your elders.”
More laughs come as Colby glares at both of us.
“Y’all are a pain in the ass,” he says pointedly before grabbing a bat and taking his place on the field.
“We really need to find him a woman,” Trent says.
“Might help his sour attitude,” Tanner asks. “It worked for Blake.”
“Focus,” Blake snaps.
No one wants to poke the bear today; Grumpy is definitely making an appearance, so we quiet down. Now though, I’m eager for the game to end, so I can write my letter to Heidi.
Back in the hotel room, I finally sit at the desk, frown at the paper with the hotel logo at the top, and tap the pen against the desk. It’s been so long since I’ve written her a letter. There’s so much going on inside of me, I don’t know how it will turn out or even where to start. The only thing I know for sure is how I’m going to open and close each letter, to remind Heidi of something very important and because who knows if these things will hold true in a month.
With a deep breath, I decide to do like I used to do.
Just start writing and let my thoughts go from my head to the paper.
To my wife, Heidi,
I’m sitting in a hotel room, thinking about my life, and realizing that for all I have, it sucks. I have a beautiful home. I have a great career. I have fantastic in-laws. I have good friends. I’m in good health. And yet, my life isn’t all I wish it were.
I have everything I could ever want, except for you.
I want you in that house with me. I wan
t you by my side to enjoy my job. I want you there when I spend time with your parents. I want you to meet my friends. I want to grow old with you. I want you.
I’m always going to want you. If you think I’ll move on after a divorce, I won’t. There’s no recovering. No moving on. No complete happiness. I’ll be going through life with all those things I already have, but wishing I still had you.
But if it’s what you want, what you need, we both know I won’t fight you on it.
The thing is, I don’t think it’s what you want or need.
I know what I want in life scares you now. It scares me too. Sometimes, I feel so guilty for wanting it, for even bringing it up after we lost Eden, but all I wanted to do was tell you that at some point in the future, I wanted to try again. I don’t think my intention mattered because you absolutely did not want to hear it. So, I’m sorry for that.
Do you know what terrifies me more than anything?
Not having you in my life. You are the most important person in my life. I need you. If it’s only ever just you and me, I’ll still be the happiest I can possibly be. I want to live with you, spend my vacations with you at the beach house, travel with you, but more than anything, I want to be able to love you.
Kind of hard to do when you don’t want to be around me, you know. Or at least, you try not to want to. Our love doesn’t just go away. It doesn’t disappear one day or slowly wither away. Suppress it all you want, it’s still there.
Don’t do this to us, Heidi. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to you.
Divorcing me won’t make it hurt any less. It won’t make the hurt of losing her go away. It’s not going to do whatever it is you’re hoping it will do. It will ruin us both. We can heal together better than we have apart. Because I’m still hurting too, Heidi.
Not once have I given up on you or on us. That won’t change. Not ever.
It’s getting late and this is getting long. I could go on and on, but I’ll save it for the next one, and there will be another one.
With all of my love,
Your husband
I stare at my words, hoping like hell that something in the rambling mess of my chicken scratch handwriting will speak to the Heidi who fell in love with me. As soon as I get home, I’m placing it under her windshield wiper.
Jordan Page 3
