“Yeah, I’d probably fall short in that department, too,” said Alice.
“We all do,” said Ellie. “That’s the point. We all fall short of one another’s expectations—most of us fall short of our own. We can go through life being critical of those around us, or we can look for the good. If you are not looking for the good, you will only find the bad. And I’m not surprised, but I am very disappointed that my parents and brothers have chosen to focus on what they perceive as bad when they know that I am, essentially, good.”
“You are exceptionally good,” said Joan.
CHAPTER 53
Their real estate agent told Ellie and Chris that he would put the house on the market just as soon as they got rid of the clutter, as he diplomatically put it. People like to envision their own belongings in a house, he had said, so the fewer of your things they have to mentally push through, the better. And there was a fair amount to push through, from Ellie’s business files and knitting supplies in the basement to her boys’ belongings in the attic. Ellie had told Tim and Brandon that she would store their things until they had a somewhat permanent address. Consequently, the attic was jam packed with whatever they had been unable to part with. Ellie was guilty, too, of holding on to too much. She had more of her boys’ childhood toys and stuffed animals than a dozen grandchildren could ever find time to enjoy. And even though she and Chris made an annual vow to get rid of what they no longer used, it hadn’t happened in years, meaning no one had an accurate picture of the five hundred square foot space that sat atop the second story of their house or an accounting of its contents.
October was a good time to clean out the attic, which was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. After her morning walk, Ellie filled a travel mug with coffee and climbed the two sets of stairs leading to a jumble of cardboard boxes, plastic storage containers, hanging racks of clothing no one wore, board games, and cast off furniture, reminding Ellie that Tim and Brandon’s crib was still tucked away in one of the back corners. Would Goodwill be interested in a twenty-year-old crib? Ellie walked around a pine desk that had not been put into service since her mother had given it to her more than fifteen years ago and started in on the plastic storage containers. She spent two hours sorting through clothes, casting every item into keep, donate, or throw away piles. Next came the boxes, some of which were labeled, the first one having the word TROPHIES written in black marker on one of the top flaps. For the next half hour, she studied them, one at a time, trying to recall the events for which they were awarded. They were cheaply constructed of plastic and metal, but they represented past achievements, no matter how meager. They had been cheerfully handed out at special ceremonies and dinners, Brandon and Tim filled, at least on those nights, with pride and optimism.
The next box she came upon was marked with the words SCHOOL PICTURES/CHRIS. Inside were photos Chris had taken at school over the years, as well as faculty pictures, each featuring Chris in a blue blazer and tie, with the same impish grin on his face in each one. Ellie was transported back to college, when she first met Chris and he had given her that same smile. He smiled a lot, more than most, Ellie thought, because he was a happy person—not happy in an ignorant or self-serving kind of way, but legitimately content. Chris was not a deep thinking man, but he was also not a brooder, not a bully, not a pretender, and not a narcissist—and he had every right to be pleased with his reflection in the mirror, with his trim and toned arms and legs, and with his flat abdomen, his full head of blond hair, his square jaw, and that grin. That’s what she had fallen in love with, his playful grin and his easygoing demeanor. Seconds later, she was crying. And seconds after that, Chris walked up the stairs. He called on his way, “I can’t believe you’re actually up here, El. I’m impressed!” But the smile on his face dropped when he saw that she was weeping. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“How can you call me honey, after everything I’ve done to you?” she asked him, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her thumbs.
“What have you done to me?” he asked, even though they both knew the answer to this question. Ellie moved her head forward and looked into his eyes. “Oh,” he said, “you mean the part about leaving me because you’re a lesbian?” The grin was back. And Ellie half smiled in return.
“You are good to me,” she said.
He shrugged and then sat down next to her on the wood floor. “I’ve been upset, El. You know I’ve been upset. But you’re right, I haven’t felt angry in the last couple weeks,” he said. “What I finally realized was something I knew all along. You are such a good person, to everyone in your life. You have always put everyone’s needs before your own. How can I be angry with you?”
“Because this is not what you expected,” she said. “Because this is so unfair to you.”
“What’s unfair—that I’ve been able to spend twenty-five years with someone I love? That doesn’t seem to be a hardship. The fact that you’ve been unable to feel true romantic love with someone for your entire life is unfair, in my opinion. I need to release you so you can do that, Ellie.”
Ellie was crying again. “But what about you? Who will you love? Who will love you?”
“Right now I’ve got Tim, and I’ve got Brandon, and I got you—and maybe someday down the road, I will find someone else to love.”
Ellie nodded her head. “I know you will,” she said. “You are a wonderful man.”
Chris stood and held out his hand to help Ellie to her feet. “Well, this wonderful man is hungry,” he said. “Have you had lunch?”
“No,” said Ellie, looking at her watch. “Hey, what are you doing home, anyway?”
“Half day today,” he said. “We had an in-service this morning on security and mental health. The metal detectors are going up at the main school entrances this afternoon.”
Ellie started down the stairs. “That saddens me.”
“It is sad,” said Chris. “Necessary, but sad.”
At the bottom, Ellie turned to Chris and asked, “Do you think it will make a difference?”
“If you’re asking if it will stop someone with mental health issues from doing harm to someone else, then I think the answer is no. But I do think it will deter kids from bringing weapons to the high school if they know they have to pass through a metal detector and that their backpacks can be searched at any time.”
They walked down the second flight of stairs, through the hallway, and into the kitchen. “What can I get you?” asked Ellie, opening the fridge door.
Chris removed the blazer he wore on professional development days and hung it on the back of a chair. “I’m making lunch for you today—so what can I get you? Tuna?”
Ellie smiled at him. “I love tuna.”
He returned her smile. “I know,” he said. “I think there are still a couple English muffins in the bread drawer. How about a tuna melt?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I,” said Chris, taking the muffins from the drawer, “never joke about cheese, even when it’s paired with fish.”
Ellie laughed, and then said, “What can I do?”
“Sit,” he said. “Keep me company.”
Ellie pulled a chair out from the table and sat. “Shall we talk about us?”
“Absolutely,” said Chris, switching on the oven broiler.
For the next ninety minutes, they talked about their common history, starting with the first day they met, their first date, the first time they slept together—“Did you know then?” Chris asked—moving to their after college dating days, the proposal, the wedding, the birth of their sons, parenthood, and the empty nest. “That’s the part that’s the hardest for me,” said Chris, their plates empty at this point, their second glasses of ice water gone. “I thought this would be our time to rediscover each other. It has been so busy for the last twenty years—I feel like we’ve barely seen each other. Maybe that’s why I didn’t know, El. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention. I know I’ve taken you and your love for grant
ed, and I was hoping to make that up to you.”
Ellie shook her head. “You’ve got no making up to do,” she said. “I have been just as preoccupied as you. And I have not felt put upon. Yes, I did the lion’s share with the boys, but that’s what I signed on to do. You told me I could work, and I chose not to until they were in school. And you were also a help around dinnertime and bedtime. You have given the boys no less than a thousand baths. You did not shirk your duties.”
Chris reached across the table and squeezed both her hands. “You may be looking through rose-colored glasses.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve always liked pink.”
They talked about what they would do once the house sold. Chris said he might live in an apartment for a while, until they figured out the next step. But he wanted Ellie to have a house, with enough room for the boys. And while Chris would rent a place with two bedrooms, so he could host them, too, he thought it would be better if they all gathered at Ellie’s house for holidays and other family get-togethers.
“What will happen when we start dating?” asked Ellie. “That will be hard for the boys.”
Chris shrugged. “It might be harder if we didn’t date anyone. They are sensitive, compassionate young men—thanks to you. We will all get through whatever it is we need to get through.”
Ellie got out of her chair and walked to the sink with her water glass. She filled it, drank half of it, and then said to Chris, “Have they talked to you about me? Are they confused?”
“They have talked to me a bit,” he said. “They’re not so much confused as they are worried, about both of us. They worry that your family will never understand—and they know how much the Kilcullen clan means to you, means to all of us. And they worry about me being on my own after so many years of being with you.” Ellie started to cry again. The tears that she had been able to hide for so many years were no longer cooperative. They flowed on their own schedule. All Ellie could do was wipe them again and again. “El,” said Chris, standing, walking to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I hate to see you cry.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. “Will we get through this? Will we emerge as happier people on the other side of this mountain we are trying to climb?”
Chris pulled away just enough so that he could look into her eyes. “Our life is changing, but the deep feelings we have for each other, for our boys, are not. It is the love we have for each other that will get us through this sadness and pain. It is this love that will also—eventually—convince your family that, no matter what it looks like to them or anyone else, what we’re doing is the right thing for us.”
“You are so brave, kind, and handsome,” said Ellie. “How can I leave you?”
“Because you are now on a quest,” said Chris, “to find a brave, kind, and pretty partner, and I have made up my mind to do whatever I can to help.”
CHAPTER 54
Alice had her phone in her hand when she sat down at the table at High Tide. “Did we actually plan to have this lunch on the anniversary of the shooting?”
“No,” said Joan. “It just worked out that way.”
“Yeah, but don’t you think this means something?” Alice put her phone on the table. “As I get older, I increasingly think things happen for a reason.”
“Everything?” asked Joan, wearing the skeptical look that Alice had seen many times before.
“No,” said Alice. “I don’t yet think there is any cosmic meaning behind a string of green traffic lights when I am in the car and in a hurry.”
“Thank you for that.”
“But there is something to being together on this day,” said Alice.
“I agree,” said Ellie. “It was a horrible day that managed to create something good. Consider our friendship—where we were and how far we’ve come.”
“Tell us something good,” said Alice. “Tell us the latest in the transformation of Ellie Fagen.”
Before Ellie started talking, the server arrived and took their orders. They all ordered clam chowder, side salads, and a basket of warm bread. Ellie then told them that her family was still not speaking to her. “And, I have decided not to live with Diana.”
Alice pushed her shoulders back. “I didn’t know you were thinking about living with Diana.”
“I don’t think she knew either,” said Ellie. “It was something I was exploring on my own.”
“You need time,” said Alice.
Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know that I do need time. I’ve had a lifetime of wondering and thinking, if only subconsciously. It’s more that I don’t want to hurt Chris.”
“How is he?” asked Joan.
“He has been incredibly understanding lately,” said Ellie. “He has not said a negative word in more than a week.”
“You sound surprised,” said Joan.
“I knew he could not stay angry in the same way that my mother, father, and brothers are angry. He’s not that kind of man. But I didn’t expect him to be as sad—or as deep—as he is.” Ellie’s eyes moistened. “The other day, I found him in our family room, looking at a framed picture of the two of us taken by another hiker when we walked a section of the Long Trail several years ago. Chris and I were covered in sweat, dirt, and bug bites, but we were looking at each other and absolutely beaming.” A fat tear fell out of Ellie’s left eye. “This is the hardest part. He and I are best friends.”
“Maybe you still can be,” said Alice. “Maybe not best friends, but you can be very good friends.”
The soup and salads arrived. Ellie and Joan each took a piece of bread from the basket, and Alice forked a grape tomato and dipped it into her balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
Ellie nodded her head. “We have talked about this—about how we have to live apart, but how we can try to hold on to some of what we had.” Ellie wiped her cheeks with her napkin.
“You are so brave, Ellie,” said Joan. “You are a kind, good, brave woman.”
Ellie said, “And you always know what to say.”
“Ha!” said Alice, looking at Ellie. “I’ll grant that she always has something to say. Whether or not it’s the right thing is up for discussion. Tell her, Joan. Tell her what happened at school the other day.”
Joan sighed. “Alice had the good fortune to run into me at the grocery store after class last week, so she got to hear it just a few hours after it happened.”
“What happened?” asked Ellie.
“I held my failing students after class for a few minutes and told them they were disappointing me,” said Joan. “I told them I expected some degree of academic success from all of them, and that, if they didn’t plan on succeeding, then they should simply drop the class and save themselves and me the time and energy of doing it later on in the semester, when the process gets more complicated and the paper work thickens. One of the students went directly to the dean’s office afterward, claiming that he had been emotionally battered by his professor.”
Ellie’s hand covered her open mouth. “And then what?”
“I got a lecture about the power of positive reinforcement.”
“Go on,” said Alice.
Joan looked at Alice and then back at Ellie. “I told him that I know all about positive reinforcement, and I freely employ it in my classroom. I also told him that there was such a thing as accountability, which seems to be missing altogether in this age of entitlement.”
Ellie grinned. “You are awesome,” she said. “This is a lecture parents need to hear. Chris tells me all the time about the phone calls and e-mails from parents making excuses for their children.”
“Wait a minute,” said Alice. “I’m not sure I agree. Parents are involved in their children’s lives now, as they should be. My parents were completely removed from my education. They crowed about my sister’s report cards, of course. But that was the only thing they commented on. That was the extent of their knowledge about our high school achievem
ents and failures. How can today’s parental involvement be a bad thing?”
“Because they, we, are overly involved,” said Joan. “We micromanage our children’s lives long past the time it is necessary to do so. I know that technology has made this much more possible for us than it was for our parents. But hell, whether I thrived or failed in high school or in college was up to me, not my parents.”
“So you think these community college kids are indulged.”
“Yes, Alice, I do,” said Joan. “Not all of them, of course. But the eighteen-year-olds who giggle through class and don’t turn in their homework? They are the targets of my consternation.”
“Who’s not the target of your consternation?” asked Alice. “You’re pretty demanding, Joan.”
“Well, right now, you’re not the target of my consternation,” said Joan to Alice. “But if you pick up that phone to check for random text messages that you could easily look at and deal with after our lovely lunch has reached its natural conclusion, then you might be.”
Alice waved the back of her hand at Joan. “Let’s not start in on that again.”
“Did you also discuss cell phone etiquette at the grocery store? Boy, I missed out on a good one,” said Ellie. “What did you decide?”
“Joan told me I need to be present where I am,” said Alice. “If I’m expecting an urgent phone call, it’s okay to keep the phone handy. If not, the phone should be in my purse and not on the table. When I set my phone down on the table, I am sending the message that the phone is more important than the person I’m with, and that my attention is divided.”
Ellie, who never had her phone on the lunch table, but who would also never tell those who did that they were wrong, said, “Interesting!” And then she laughed.
Alice looked at her phone once and then slipped it into her purse. “There,” she said. “Are you all happy now?”
“We are very happy,” said Joan, smiling. “Tell us about Daisy. How is your training going with her? Is she enjoying your runs together?”
Every Other Wednesday Page 29
