by Jodi LaPalm
“I’m going to gather laundry and start a load,” I told Alex nonchalantly. “Go ahead and start one of the movies.”
He stared at me, puzzled.
“But you love movie night. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.
To disguise my behavior, I promised it would take a half-hour–no more–and to start one I’d seen before so I wouldn’t miss anything important. He reluctantly complied, joining the kids in the great room with heaping bowls of popcorn tucked in his arms.
Now on a self-imposed clock, my panic escalated. I typically performed this ritual in a slow, methodical manner to be positive I got each room done completely. Being rushed only left me to wonder if I was thorough enough and often meant I ended up reviewing the very same things I’d just checked.
But I needed a fix, so I moved through rooms with hurried precision, straightening items on shelves, smoothing bed-covers, putting things in their proper place, and gathering dirty clothes as I went. When I finished with one space, I completed a final scan of the room to be sure everything was in order before going onto the next.
After forty-five minutes, I merrily joined Alex on the couch. Mitch and Sylvie were flopped in their monogrammed, denim-covered beanbag chairs, still munching on endless bowls of popcorn.
“Mom,” Mitch chided over his shoulder, “you missed half the movie already!”
“Sorry. But I’ve seen this one four times so I think I can catch up,” I declared.
Leaning tiredly against Alex’s side, he gently pulled his fingertips through my hair. “Everything okay?” he asked.
I nodded and snuggled closer, hoping to hide my face. Thankfully, Mitch flipped the light-switch, and we spent the rest of the night watching movies in a now-darkened room. Sylvie fell asleep halfway through the double-feature, forcing Alex to hoist her growing body into his arms and carry her to bed.
He tucked them in while I tossed another load of laundry in to wash. Entering the unlit kitchen just as Alex came around the corner, we bumped into each other, and the folded laundry in the basket I was holding tumbled onto the hardwood floor.
“Damn it, Alex!” I yelled.
“I’m sorry Court,” he apologized. “I was checking to see if you needed any help.”
“Well I do now,” I spat sarcastically.
He helped scoop up the crumpled towels, socks, and clothes and began folding them on the kitchen table. After holding my breath, I finally stopped him before he reached for another towel.
“I’m sorry I yelled, Alex. But I can do these. Why don’t you get to bed, and I’ll be there in a few minutes?”
“No worries, Hon, I can help-then we can both go to sleep,” he offered.
He was doing them all wrong! Leaving loose folds rather than the tight corners I liked. Mismatching socks. And folding things, which needed to be hung in the closet. I gripped my palm around his forearm to prevent him from going any further.
“Just let me do it, okay?” I quietly begged.
Alex silently placed the item in his hand upon the table, nodded, and walked in the direction of our bedroom. When I entered the dark room a few minutes later, he was already under the covers. After dressing for bed, I joined him, and he rolled over, embracing me from behind.
“Are you alright, Court?” he whispered, nuzzling his nose along my neck and shoulders.
“I told you I was fine, Alex. It’s just the stress of my last deadline and running around for the yard sale got to me a little,” I told him.
“You’ve handled those kind of things before with no problem. Is there something more?” he pried.
“No. That’s all,” I lied, painting yet another layer upon my already shamed body.
“You’ll tell me if it’s something more, right?” he begged as he stroked the curve around my hip bone.
“Of course, Alex. You know I would.” Another lie, and I moved to face him before either of us could go any further. “Um, Honey? Do you think maybe we could just snuggle tonight?” I asked sweetly.
“Anything you want,” he replied and cradled me inside the crook of his right arm. “Anything you want.”
Within minutes he fell asleep. And for the entire night, I remained still against Alex’s relaxed body while vague memories of Philip filled my head and his ghostly image haunted my dreams.
***
Marnie and I weren’t even at that company party for five minutes before I wanted to leave. Uncomfortable in any such setting, my social ineptness was only highlighted by the manner in which others laughed and chatted with familiar ease.
Dimmed lights throughout the massive room allotted for some privacy, and I followed too closely behind my friend as she walked about. Every time we came upon someone she knew, she’d graciously introduce me. Once the greetings were over, however, I’d stand there, mute, until invited into the conversation or we moved on.
At least the bar was inviting and watching the activity around it provided a form of distracted entertainment. Its large oval shape centered the room, allowing customers to sit along every inch of its upholstered edge. And the wait-staff worked inside a sunken floor so the leather chairs ringing the perimeter allowed patrons to sit at a relaxing level.
Low lanterns lounged above drinks and huddled heads while textured hues of plum and burgundy stripes draped the walls. The outside of the space was lined with tall tables and bar-stools, and it appeared as if many of Marnie’s co-workers filled every available seat. Without any windows, a lack of natural light made it difficult to discern the faces of even those who sat a mere few feet away.
Once I became brave enough to venture to the restroom on my own, Marnie signaled where she’d be seated so I might find my way back against the emerging sea of people. I was just crossing the hostess area and returning to the bar when a loud cheer erupted in the room.
Scanning the crowd for Marnie and her friends, I saw him.
He must have been the reason for the raised spirits as more than a half dozen employees flocked around him, vying for attention.
I became compelled to learn his identity.
Battling an inherent urge to stare, I pushed past him and eventually found Marnie, perched on a bar stool and engrossed in a conversation with Carl. She appeared oblivious to any commotion at the other end of the room.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop noticing it.
The man never found a free moment as employees continually approached him to chat or offer a cocktail. Heartily patting each person on the shoulder, he looked them in the eye, said hello, and instead bought them drinks.
After a time, he finally broke through the bar crowd and moved around the outer tables, shaking hands and cracking jokes along the way. Straining, I vaguely overheard him ask someone-in a low, enticing voice-how a customer call went earlier in the day.
I sensed he was more than a random employee.
Coming upon our table, he greeted Marnie and Carl with a kind smile.
“Philip,” Marnie gestured, “I’d like you to meet my friend, Courtney.”
“Courtney! What a pleasure.” As he civilly shook my hand, an indiscernible expression crossed his features.
When I touched his skin, a spark ignited, breaking through the deep layers of numbness within which I’d been imprisoned. My senses became heightened so that not only touch, but everything-sight, smell, sound, and even taste–reached an unexplainable degree.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I stammered.
With intense curiosity, I searched his face for a glimmer of recognition, perhaps from that brief time in the airport or even today in the hall. There appeared to be none. But it wasn’t so much the look he gave, but the things I saw in the shadowy light.
secrets
“Mom,” Sylvie loudly whispered from behind the cracked door of our bedroom. With covers wound tightly around my body, I jolted from the restful sleep I’d begun just two hours earlier.
“What?” I whispered back.
“Can I go over t
o Danielle’s house after breakfast?” she begged, now at the side of my bed.
“Why don’t you ask your dad?” I whined with drowsy frustration.
“I did. He said to ask you.”
“Sure. That sounds fine,” I mumbled before rolling over and curling into a ball.
“Thanks Mom!” she yelled excitedly, skipping from the room and slamming the door closed.
Muffled sounds drifted from the kitchen, and I knew the kids would be eating breakfast while Alex sipped coffee and read the weekend paper. They’d all still be in pajamas as was our guilty pleasure on Sundays.
Resting in bed became the only time my OCD remained at a compassionate stand-still. For despite ideas running rampant through my head, a prone physical position appeared to curb the obsessive compulsions. Once I rose and moved about, however, the need would begin all over again. So I stayed there, for a few blissful minutes, gladly exchanging the inevitable surge of temptation for serenity.
And yet, within the quarter hour, I could no longer stop the thoughts, and I joined my family in the kitchen. Their too-cheerful course of “good mornings” was more than I could handle on a few short hours of sleep, and I murmured my response, stumbling to the beckoning coffee pot.
“What’s on your agenda today, Hon?” Alex asked, flipping newspaper pages in search of a particular section.
“Mm. I don’t know. I didn’t get much rest so it might be a lazy day,” I mumbled after a long draw of coffee.
“Ha! Like you’re ever lazy, Mom,” Mitch observed over his plate of toaster waffles smothered in syrup.
“Hey, I can be lazy just as good as the next guy,” I argued.
“We’ll believe it when we see it,” Alex smiled wryly.
“What’s on your agenda?” I sneered. “I know Sylvie wants to go over to Danielle’s.” Clearing dishes from the counter, I sighed and wiped up a pile of sticky goo.
“I’ll work on clearing more leaves and brush in the yard this morning. Mitch, maybe you can help me. And then if the rain holds off, I’d like a bike ride this afternoon. After dinner, I’ll need to catch up on emails and stuff before heading back into work tomorrow. That’s my plan for now anyway.”
“Okay. I guess we need to get moving then,” I again sighed, glancing at the late hour on the clock. “Because after that and homework, it’ll definitely be showers before bed.”
With everyone out of the house, I had time to catch up on laundry and make chili in the slow-cooker for dinner. Once finished, I stared over the backyard.
How could I be restless and bored at the same time? I questioned.
Checking to be sure Alex and Mitch were out in the yard, I opened a kitchen cupboard. Reaching up on the highest shelf, behind the baking products and sauces, I found my secret stash of miniature candy bars. In a trance, I unwrapped one after another, stuffing each in my mouth without ever really tasting it. I quickly lost count and just as I finished hiding wrappers deep within the garbage bag, Alex came strolling into the room.
“Ready for a ride?” he asked. “I’ll round up the kiddos.”
“I’m gonna pass. I want to get the house picked up before dinner so I can outline those two new projects tonight.” A lack of rest and sugar overdose suddenly collided, manifesting a dizzying-and severe-wave of weariness.
“Okay. We’ll be gone about an hour-that should give you some quiet,” he offered. I nodded gratefully, and he hopped the stairs, calling the kids.
Again alone, I stuffed another handful of candy in my mouth. Fully aggravated now and completely unable to concentrate, I walked upstairs to begin a check of the entire house. Following my pattern of room by room, I struggled to focus and almost made it to the end when I remembered a “project” for my list. Now fearing I might have missed such things in other rooms, I backtracked and started over. This time I made it half-way before losing my train of thought.
For a third time, I went back to the beginning.
Peeking sideways at the clock in the shape of a baseball on Mitch’s bedside table, I became disheartened to realize I’d wasted an hour and effectively accomplished nothing.
More determined than ever, I sped through the rooms this time, taking precise care to hold my eyes closely locked on what they were seeing so I could leave each room confident I hadn’t missed anything. Just as the garage door rumbled open, I finished.
Sylvie bounded through the back door, her cheeks flushed from both the cool air and the bright pink of her hoodie. Mitch followed with a humorous grin. And just as I was about to ask what struck him as funny, Alex came hobbling in behind.
“What’s the matter?” I snickered.
“Dad’s a little out of shape,” Sylvie hollered from the other room.
Standing with hands pressed deep into his back, Alex stretched from side to side with a pained look on his face.
“I am not out of shape,” he argued, breathless. “You two just ride too darn fast. Shouldn’t they be doing homework or something?” he winced.
“Actually, yes. They should. Before dinner,” I ordered.
Mitch and Sylvie collectively groaned, and it was so in tune and in synch that I wondered if they practiced in private. But the battle ended there as each grabbed a backpack from the cubbie hooks and settled at the island.
Alex and I spent the next hour and a half splitting time between kids. And after an easy dinner of heaping bowls of chili with the fixings and grilled cheese sandwiches, it was free time in their rooms before lights out.
School nights were typically an early night for the kids, but despite my grandiose ideas of work, I was also ready to turn in. Alex sat in the oversized chair working on his laptop, and I leaned over, kissing his forehead goodnight.
“So early?” he asked, surprised.
“I’m beat. Can you check that their lights are out in fifteen minutes?”
“Sure. Then I think I’ll join you. These stay-at-home dad days are exhausting,” he joked.
When Alex came in later, I was wide-awake. Despite heavy eyes, I worried about my appointment with Dr. Benson. It was slated for late morning, but I still needed to get the kids up and off to school, which meant a healthy night of rest was imperative.
Crawling under the covers, he reached and fiddled with the alarm clock. “You have your appointment tomorrow?” his tone was hopeful. I nodded, and he switched off the side lamp, streaming us in shadows of moonlight.
In the dark, we were bolder.
“Are you really alright, Court?” Alex pressed.
“No, Alex. I’m not alright,” I confessed. “But I will be,” I promised, not really knowing if I could keep it.
“It’s like you’re regressing or something,” he admitted. Draping his arm around me, he pulled my body close. I initially stiffened, but as his touch became reacquainted with my skin, I relaxed.
“Just a minor setback. I’ll hash it all over with Dr. Benson tomorrow.”
“But you can tell me, too. No secrets, right?” he reminded, shyly tracing his fingers along the length of my upper arm.
I shivered.
No secrets. That had been our vow from the beginning.
And yet, I failed him. For while he was completely aware of my attack and relationship with Philip, I still kept something from him. He never knew Philip was married while we were involved.
Hiding such a fact from Alex fostered great shame, but the shame of once being the proverbial other woman felt far greater. Because the moment-when I could no longer face myself in the mirror-wasn’t easily explained; nor was the oppressive misery I experienced once I finally became the person I was meant to be but then realized with terrific horror how much I still hated her.
I couldn’t bear to have Alex think of me in such a bad light.
“No secrets,” I repeated, hugging him closer.
“Then why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything,” he accused suddenly, releasing me and sitting straight up on the bed. I could barely see him, but his silhouette
revealed the growing anger.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“I don’t know, Court. I’ve witnessed your episodes before, but it just seems different this time. I mean, usually when you get into the OCD stuff, you do it and that’s it. But this time it’s not only the organizing, need to control type of behavior, but there’s an absence, too. It’s like you’re not here.”
I offered no rebuttal to his observation, because it was true. I just didn’t believe he’d notice my disconnect. And now, I worried the kids felt the distance as well.
“I’m working it all out, Alex. I promise. And my appointment tomorrow will help a lot. You’ll see,” I reassured. “I’ll be better in no time.”
