Feels Like Home

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  The second the words are out of my mouth, I wince because it’s such a dick thing to say, considering her husband passed away. But her response isn’t what I expect it to be. She looks at me for several long beats and then shakes her head.

  “No. I didn’t want to talk about it either.”

  Her words make me choke on the sip of coffee I’d just taken. Didn’t, not wouldn’t. Oh shit. I look up at her slowly, and she just nods her head, the jet-black locks with a strip of shiny red, the diamond stud in her nose twinkling. She shrugs her shoulders as if to say, ‘What are ya gonna do?’ but says no more.

  I settle back on the couch, take a long slow drink of the Irish coffee, wishing it weren’t tainted with coffee in the moment, and lick my lips. I take a couple of bites of her unbelievable lemon pound cake, and she does the same.

  For five minutes we sit in silence — me digesting more than just the food she’s given me. Her giving me the time I need to do so. I set the plate down on the table in front of me.

  “So…”

  “It was right before we found out he had cancer.” She answers my unasked question, which I’m grateful for. I don’t mean to be like Josh and Barrett and seem nosey, but holy shit. I didn’t have any plans when I walked in here today. But if I had, laying it all out there and getting it in return wouldn’t have been one of them.

  I nod, still in shock. From what I understood of Christine’s late husband, Todd, he was a pretty stand-up guy. Hell, he’s the reason Dreamin’ Beans even exists. He had surprised Christine and set aside a large chunk of money for her to invest in starting her own coffee shop. Something that had always been her dream, hence the name. Unfortunately, Todd lost his battle with cancer and passed away.

  “How did…” I clear my voice because I don’t know how much to ask, or if it’s something she even wants to talk about. “You found them?”

  She wrinkles her nose like she just ate something gross. “I walked in on her stark naked body straddling him, his pants around his ankles. Though, luckily, it wasn’t our bed. It was the couch. I burned the couch.” She smirks.

  “Damn. When was this? How did I not know about it?”

  She shrugs her tiny shoulders. “I never saw the need to tell anyone. And we found out about the cancer so soon after. Well, he had just found out that day. It just seemed less important in light of the whole C word being thrown at us.”

  “How did you stay with him? After that? And care for him when he needed it? My gosh, Christine. You must be the best person on this planet.”

  “Nah, I’m just a mom. Y’know? Bri was only twelve years old at the time. I wasn’t going to have her last memories of her dad be of him cheating on her mom. And I didn’t want to be responsible for her having the wrong idea of what a husband is like. He was a great father and aside from that, he really was a great husband, too. Despite it all, I still loved him. He screwed up — literally — but that didn’t change the fact that he was my husband and I loved him. Might make me sound weak, but sometimes forgiveness is harder to give, and forgetting doesn’t happen, but it’s something that will eat you alive if you allow it to. I wasn’t willing to allow it to.”

  “That’s the furthest thing from weak you could get, Christine. Seriously. Giving someone forgiveness for something they don’t deserve forgiveness for is the bravest, strongest thing you could do.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice is soft, and a slight tinge of blush colors her cheeks.

  “Do you… I guess, do you know who the woman was?”

  She looks at me briefly and looks away again. “Yeah, I do. She wasn’t a friend of mine, if that’s what you were wondering.”

  I take a deep breath and lean forward, my elbows on my knees, hands clasped together and head lowered. “So now what do I do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I raise my head to look at her. “I’ve given her my life, Christine. I don’t know where to go from here. What my next move should be. What I’m gonna tell the boys.”

  “What is your gut telling you?” She leans her side against the back of the couch, again her head resting on her hand, and I follow her lead but don’t turn to her. Instead, I rest my head on the back and look to the ceiling.

  “My gut… my gut is telling me to stay the hell away from her.”

  “And your heart?”

  “My heart is telling me to stay farther than the hell away from her.”

  She giggles, this light and tinkly sound that has me smiling, lolling my head to the side to look at her, despite the events that have transpired over the last few hours.

  “Well, Andy, you’re what? Thirty-four? Thirty-five?”

  “Thirty-five,” I tell her, though I don’t really know why I clarify when I could have just nodded.

  “Dang, you’re young.”

  “Oh, please. How old are you? You’re about my age, yeah?”

  “Oh, you’re good.” She smiles shaking her head, her dark hair falling over her shoulder in the process.

  “What?” I ask, not being able to hold back the smile that is overtaking my face.

  “I’m forty-one!” she exclaims, pointing to herself.

  “No way!” My eyes widen. There’s no way she’s that old. Though, I suppose, since her daughter is a senior in high school it would make sense. But still… she looks younger than me! I take a few moments to look closer at her. She resembles Mila Kunis. Long dark hair, beautiful round face, flawless skin, her only difference is the eyes. Hers are a much brighter green, huge and sparkling with happiness.

  “Whatever. I’m old — just don’t go spreading that around. Anyway. Like I was saying, you’re young! You’re thirty-five. You have your entire life ahead of you, dude.”

  “Dude?” I smirk, and she reaches over to punch me lightly in the shoulder.

  “Stop interrupting me!”

  “Sorry,” I tell her with my hands raised, smiling in her direction. I lean back farther into the couch and take another sip of coffee.

  “I never imagined being here,” I scoff, scrubbing a hand down my face.

  “You seriously didn’t know?” I can hear the disbelief in her voice.

  “Oh, I knew. Trust me. She’s not very sneaky. This wasn’t her first time, I’m afraid. But I know what you mean when you say you were keeping it to yourself for Bri’s sake. I kept quiet, not wanting the boys to be affected. I knew it would come to a head at some point, but I just never imagined having to see it. Know what I mean?”

  “Yup. Unfortunately, I do.”

  “Man, this sucks.”

  “It definitely ain’t no picnic,” she says, chortling.

  “How did you not always think of it when you saw him? Dang, Christine. How did you forgive him? Still drop everything to care for him when he was at his lowest?”

  She looks at me long, assessing. “You really want to know?”

  “I do.”

  She studies me for a few beats and looks away. “Why? Are you thinking of getting back together with her?”

  “No.” My response is instant, without question, earning the return of her pretty eyes to me. “I have no desire for that. But, I need to know there’s a chance of…” I shrug my shoulders, “…moving on, I guess.”

  “Fair enough.” She finishes her coffee. “I don’t know how I forgave him. Grace of God, I guess. He and I talked — a lot — about it, and he promised me that it was just the one time. I guess I believed him. I can’t tell you why, but deep in my gut I feel like it was a one-time thing. The girl he was with — she stopped by the house that day. He didn’t seek her out. They met, well it doesn’t matter where they met, but they met and for a few months, she would come around. His work, the gym where he was a member. She’d stop by when he was playing a pick-up game of basketball on the courts. She was basically pursuing him.” She pauses and picks a piece of lint off her pant leg, flicks it to the floor, clears her throat, and licks her lips before continuing.

  “Not that it takes away from his involvemen
t or his own fault in it, but I guess a part of him needed that. He had been feeling crappy, had just gone in for testing to see if he had cancer, and we were waiting on the results. It was like a mid-life crisis on crack. She showed up at the house one day and…” she shows me her hands, palm side up, “…that was all it took. He was upset, scared, vulnerable. He was supposed to wait for me to go to the doctor to find out the test results, but he didn’t want me there if it was bad news. He had just found out he had cancer. A cancer that, unless a miracle occurred, was going to kill him.” Her voice cracks, and I have to war with myself not to reach over and hug her.

  “He came home, had a few drinks to calm down, and she was just there. It was like she knew the timing would be perfect for her. I blame him. I promise you, I do. I always will. Forgiving is different than forgetting. No one can go without fault for sleeping with someone other than their spouse, but the circumstances surrounding his affair, if I consider it that, are a little different than most, I would imagine.”

  “Yeah. I agree with that. Still though, Christine. It doesn’t make it right.”

  “I know. But… he’s gone.” Her voice is sad, eyes filled with tears. “I can’t dwell on it. The last years of our marriage were good, even though he was sick. Doesn’t make me forget what I saw, but it does give me something else to focus on.”

  Strong doesn’t even cover what she is. Amazing. Incredible. One of a kind. How Todd stepped out on her is beyond my understanding. No matter the circumstances surrounding it.

  I reach across the cushion and grasp her hand in mine, squeezing once. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

  She squeezes my hand once in response. “I’m sorry you’re going through it now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, want some advice?”

  “Eat more lemon pound cake?”

  She releases my hand and sits back, giggling, and again I’m hit with how much I love hearing the sound of her laughter. “Well, that, too. I could even say it’s healthy because it’s made with Greek yogurt.”

  “You trying to tell me something?” I tease her.

  She smiles, a cross between sad and sort of resigned.

  “My advice? Be happy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Be happy. I promise you. First of all, it will drive Heather nuts knowing you are moving on without her. But second of all, and this is the most important part of it, you’ll be happy.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice. When Todd was at his sickest, we practiced a lot of happiness. Happiness because we had good days, or we had quiet moments to spend as a family when he could barely get out of bed. Happiness when we were able to celebrate holidays. After he cheated, one of the things we discovered was that we could either give in to the ugly that it brought on, or we could move on. We moved on. And he had to do the same. We both had guilt. Guilt for how we got there. I questioned if I wasn’t giving him what he needed. He questioned everything. I’m not going to lie… it’s hard, and most days you’ll have to dig deep, but you’ll get there. Trust me. The light is always better than the dark.”

  I lay my head on the back of the couch and turn to look at her. She’s so gorgeous it almost hurts to look at her. I’ve always thought so, though I would have never done a thing about it. She has always been the mom who turned heads.

  “What was he thinking?” I murmur.

  “Pardon?”

  “Todd. What was he thinking?”

  “You mean…”

  “When he stepped out.”

  She doesn’t respond, just simply smiles before biting her lip and looking away, her long, dark, silky hair falling over her shoulder. She ducks her head and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, though I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. Almost admitting how gorgeous I think she is? Her husband cheating? Her husband dying? Me laying my shit out for her? All of it, probably.

  “I’m sorry Heather’s such an asshole,” she replies with a shrug.

  I bark out a laugh. “She is definitely an asshole.”

  “She forgot rule number one.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind… it was in a book I read.”

  “Ahh. Good book?”

  “More than good.” She gives me a ghost of a smile and reaches over to grip my hand, squeezing once before letting go. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Honestly? I have no clue. I need to find a place for the boys and me to stay, talk with a lawyer… that part I know for sure. I can’t stay with her. As sad as it sounds, and maybe it’s kind of a little mean, but I think we fell out of love a long time ago. We’ve been hanging on by a thread for years. I’m sure part of it was my fault, but still…”

  “It’s no excuse. This has nothing to do with you, Andy. This is all Heather. You’re a great guy. It’s Heather’s loss.”

  “I appreciate you saying that.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  3

  Christine

  My eyes track Andy‘s back as he walks out the door and into the cooler early fall temperatures of the evening, knowing that everything I’ve held tight for the last several years is now loosening its grip on me.

  I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing. Todd’s affair was something that I never wanted to get out. I trust Andy that he won’t tell anyone, but it feels weird knowing that someone else knows this giant secret I’ve kept hidden to myself all these years.

  Part of me feels like it’s a giant relief to have the burden lightened from my shoulders.

  Part of me is terrified.

  When I found my late husband, looking more broken than I’d ever seen him, with a naked woman straddling his equally naked body — and did I fail to mention the lovely picture of his hands being handcuffed around her waist? — on the couch in the living room of the home that we shared, I thought my world had simply crumbled around me.

  It’s funny. When hit with the impossible, sometimes it’s easier to see clearly. Or, at least, a new side. It was his eyes.

  A woman knows her husband’s eyes, what they’re saying in each moment. Whether it be in bed, or when they’re having a disagreement, when he’s happy and telling a joke or upset or grumpy.

  The day I opened the door and came face to face with emptiness — and a bit of drunkenness — in his eyes; he shifted his focus to me, and I knew. It only took a second. A brief flash, but I knew it was deeper than him sleeping around on me. I knew he’d gotten his results. And they were exactly what we feared. He was supposed to wait but in true Todd fashion, he probably didn’t want me to have to sit there and listen to the news if it was bad.

  “Christine,” he croaks out, eyes on me, his hands gripping her hips as he tries to move her away from him.

  She digs her knees into the couch on either side of his legs and lifts her pitiful, unapologetic eyes to me before looking down at Todd.

  She trails a fake fingernail down his cheek. He flinches and jerks away from her touch. “Todd, baby, what’s the matter?”

  “Get the fuck off me. Now,” my husband growls, empty eyes now being replaced with angry ones, hands pulling at the metal cuffs around his wrists. I don’t even want to know details on that particular adventure. We’ve never had a perfect marriage. It simply doesn’t exist in this world. Two people? Two personalities? They’re meant to argue. It just happens. And it’s okay. It’s what makes marriage what it is. Working together, fighting for your love. It’s damn near impossible most days. Today seems like one of those.

  But in all the years we’ve been together? I’ve never seen those eyes.

  He turns his head, looking directly at me, and I almost stumble.

  Eyes filled with despair.

  Sadness.

  And rage.

  But I know my husband.

  That rage?

  It’s by no means directed at me.

  At her.

 
At the results.

  At life.

  At cancer.

  Fuck. Cancer.

  “Baby?” She says the name like she has the right to.

  She’s wrong.

  He lifts his hands and pulls on her back trying to get her to move. “Don’t call me baby,” he growls.

  “But…”

  “I’m not your baby. You’re not mine. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

  “I can be here for you.”

  “You have about three seconds to dismount my husband before I take you by your cheap ass extensions and pull you off him. And, just so you know” —I point to the cell phone in my hand recording her— “whether he’s in this video or not? I’ll have no qualms posting this for the entire town to see, so everyone knows what a cheating, lying skank you really are. Not that anyone had any misgivings on that, anyway.”

  “See, Christine? This is why Todd came around looking for me. Because you’re such a bitch.”

  I raise my eyebrows at her insinuation. First, that he came looking because — one glance at my husband tells me what I assumed in the first place. That she chased him down like the shameless whore she is. And second, because I’m not a bitch. Probably one of the people furthest from it. I’m… nice. A bubble of laughter bursts out of me, and I scoff. “I’m a bitch? Oh, that’s rich coming from you. The town bicycle.”

  She narrows her eyes at me then smirks, the devil in her eyes shining with fury, then she twists her head and places her stupid breasts in my husband’s face, all the while he’s trying to twist and turn to get away from her, his hands bound, and his body weak. The reason for the weak body we were supposed to get when we went in for his appointment in an hour. Clearly, he had other ideas.

  Cancer.

  When we went to the doctor I never imagined that’s the word we’d be leaving with.

  Up until a few months ago, my husband was healthy.

  Still rocked hard abs and strong arms and shoulders.

  Helped coach Bri’s traveling volleyball team.

  Played basketball with his friends.