A Serial Fiction
Section 1 (October)
“Isn’t it ironic that I was the one who wanted the divorce and you’re the one who ends up happy?” I ask David while standing in the doorway of my small two-bedroom house, watching his newest girlfriend help our two young daughters into the car.
“Who says I’m happy?” The right side of David’s mouth lifts a little. I always thought that this crooked smile of his was sexy. Still do, I guess. The expression always revealed David’s vulnerability and a tenderness that he didn’t often let show. I wonder if he ever smiles that way for the skinny blond currently leaning into his car to buckle our youngest, Charlotte, into her car seat.
My chest is heavy with disappointment and jealously as the realization of David’s intimacy with this woman hits. Woman, ha—she’s basically a girl.
“You’re not happy?” I ask. The idea is absurd to me. How could he not be happy with Trish—or is it Tracy? For some reason, I can’t recall this one’s name. My stomach clinches with guilt. How can I let my daughters leave with a woman whose name I can’t remember?
David smiles—a full, both sides of his mouth smile—and says, “I didn’t say that.”
Mind games. This is why I’m not married to David anymore, I tell myself. Except that I know that it’s not true. I’m not sure why I ended our marriage. David wasn’t abusive or unfaithful. There really isn’t anything terribly wrong with his character. I just wasn’t happy, and I was sure it was because I had chosen the wrong man to grow old with.
I stare at David, trying to detect whether he is telling me the truth. A part of me hopes that he is just as miserable as me, and the other part feels guilty about it. I should want him to be happy, shouldn’t I? I look away to see beautiful what’s-her-name leaning against the car smiling as us. She raises a perfectly manicured hand and bends her elegant fingers in a wave. I actually don’t know what her nails look like because I can’t see them from here. Maybe she chews them off. The thought of that makes me smile.
“Thanks for keeping the girls for me tomorrow.”
“Thank you for letting me have them again on an unscheduled day,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “Meredith and I are going to take them to the new water park over on Elm Street.”
My heart jumps to my throat. I wanted to be the first one to take Emmie and Charlotte there. But, I’ve had all summer to make it happen and didn’t. The truth is that I don’t feel well enough to spend a full day in the sun. “That sounds fun. The girls will love it.”
David starts to step off of the porch but hesitates. “Is everything okay, Tess? I mean, I know it’s none of my business what you’ll be up to tomorrow—what you’ve been up to, but this secrecy has got me worried.”
I try really hard to make my smile not look forced. “Everything is fine, David,” I say, knowing full well that everything is most definitely not fine.
“Good,” he says. “I’ll have the girls home by 8:00.”
“Okay,” I say. “Have fun.” I think about following David to his car so I can say good-bye to the girls once more but then remember that I’m wearing my give-up-on-life sweat pants and oversized t-shirt and don’t want to stand anywhere near perfectly put together Meredith. Meredith. I wonder why I have such a hard time remembering that. I settle for blowing the girls a kiss. I watch as David backs out of my driveway and wonder if that’s how we used to look together back when we were married.
As the car pulls around the corner and out of sight, I turn to go back into my house. It feels empty, not just because I’m the only one home, but because it lacks something every home should have. It’s a sort of hollowness, which is so much worse than emptiness.
“You asked for this,” I say out loud just to see if my voice echoes. It doesn’t.
I really should’ve made the girls pick up their toys before they left. But then I wouldn’t have anything to distract me from thinking about tomorrow. Actually, I’m not nervous about tomorrow, just about finding out the truth about what’s wrong with me.
I’ve told no one about finding the lump last spring, the suspicious mammogram I had a couple months ago, or about the equally dubious ultrasound that followed a couple weeks later. I’d driven myself to the biopsy appointment and was by myself when I received the dreaded phone call informing me that I do indeed have cancer.
The doctor had also found a couple of lumps under my arm that he’s pretty sure are cancerous as well. Tomorrow I will be having a PET scan to see just how much cancer is in me—to see if there is any hope for me to beat this. No matter what the results, I know that I will be alone when I hear my fate, and it’s my own fault. David and I may share custody of the girls, but he got custody of our friends.
The only thing that scares me more than living the rest of my life alone is dying alone. I remind myself that my prognosis may not be as dire as I fear. People beat breast cancer every day. There’s no reason for me to believe that I can’t—no reason yet anyway.
I start to feel light headed and realize that it’s because I’m breathing way too fast. I sit down on the couch and put both hands on my face to try and stop the spinning from my panic. I will my breathing to slow to normal. I curl up on the couch in a fetal position. I’ll just rest here a few minutes. I open my eyes hours later to total darkness. I’ve wasted another day sleeping.
I wonder how the girls are doing, if they miss me, and if some day soon they will wake up in the morning without a mother.
“Who says I’m happy?” The right side of David’s mouth lifts a little. I always thought that this crooked smile of his was sexy. Still do, I guess. The expression always revealed David’s vulnerability and a tenderness that he didn’t often let show. I wonder if he ever smiles that way for the skinny blond currently leaning into his car to buckle our youngest, Charlotte, into her car seat.
My chest is heavy with disappointment and jealously as the realization of David’s intimacy with this woman hits. Woman, ha—she’s basically a girl.
“You’re not happy?” I ask. The idea is absurd to me. How could he not be happy with Trish—or is it Tracy? For some reason, I can’t recall this one’s name. My stomach clinches with guilt. How can I let my daughters leave with a woman whose name I can’t remember?
David smiles—a full, both sides of his mouth smile—and says, “I didn’t say that.”
Mind games. This is why I’m not married to David anymore, I tell myself. Except that I know that it’s not true. I’m not sure why I ended our marriage. David wasn’t abusive or unfaithful. There really isn’t anything terribly wrong with his character. I just wasn’t happy, and I was sure it was because I had chosen the wrong man to grow old with.
I stare at David, trying to detect whether he is telling me the truth. A part of me hopes that he is just as miserable as me, and the other part feels guilty about it. I should want him to be happy, shouldn’t I? I look away to see beautiful what’s-her-name leaning against the car smiling as us. She raises a perfectly manicured hand and bends her elegant fingers in a wave. I actually don’t know what her nails look like because I can’t see them from here. Maybe she chews them off. The thought of that makes me smile.
“Thanks for keeping the girls for me tomorrow.”
“Thank you for letting me have them again on an unscheduled day,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “Meredith and I are going to take them to the new water park over on Elm Street.”
My heart jumps to my throat. I wanted to be the first one to take Emmie and Charlotte there. But, I’ve had all summer to make it happen and didn’t. The truth is that I don’t feel well enough to spend a full day in the sun. “That sounds fun. The girls will love it.”
David starts to step off of the porch but hesitates. “Is everything okay, Tess? I mean, I know it’s none of my business what you’ll be up to tomorrow—what you’ve been up to, but this secrecy has got me worried.”
I try really hard to make my smile not look forced. “Everything is fine, David,” I say, knowing full well that everything is most definitely not fine.
“Good,” he says. “I’ll have the girls home by 8:00.”
“Okay,” I say. “Have fun.” I think about following David to his car so I can say good-bye to the girls once more but then remember that I’m wearing my give-up-on-life sweat pants and oversized t-shirt and don’t want to stand anywhere near perfectly put together Meredith. Meredith. I wonder why I have such a hard time remembering that. I settle for blowing the girls a kiss. I watch as David backs out of my driveway and wonder if that’s how we used to look together back when we were married.
As the car pulls around the corner and out of sight, I turn to go back into my house. It feels empty, not just because I’m the only one home, but because it lacks something every home should have. It’s a sort of hollowness, which is so much worse than emptiness.
“You asked for this,” I say out loud just to see if my voice echoes. It doesn’t.
I really should’ve made the girls pick up their toys before they left. But then I wouldn’t have anything to distract me from thinking about tomorrow. Actually, I’m not nervous about tomorrow, just about finding out the truth about what’s wrong with me.
I’ve told no one about finding the lump last spring, the suspicious mammogram I had a couple months ago, or about the equally dubious ultrasound that followed a couple weeks later. I’d driven myself to the biopsy appointment and was by myself when I received the dreaded phone call informing me that I do indeed have cancer.
The doctor had also found a couple of lumps under my arm that he’s pretty sure are cancerous as well. Tomorrow I will be having a PET scan to see just how much cancer is in me—to see if there is any hope for me to beat this. No matter what the results, I know that I will be alone when I hear my fate, and it’s my own fault. David and I may share custody of the girls, but he got custody of our friends.
The only thing that scares me more than living the rest of my life alone is dying alone. I remind myself that my prognosis may not be as dire as I fear. People beat breast cancer every day. There’s no reason for me to believe that I can’t—no reason yet anyway.
I start to feel light headed and realize that it’s because I’m breathing way too fast. I sit down on the couch and put both hands on my face to try and stop the spinning from my panic. I will my breathing to slow to normal. I curl up on the couch in a fetal position. I’ll just rest here a few minutes. I open my eyes hours later to total darkness. I’ve wasted another day sleeping.
I wonder how the girls are doing, if they miss me, and if some day soon they will wake up in the morning without a mother.
SEction 2 (November)
I watch with detachment as the radioactive tracer is injected into my arm. I can’t think about why I’m here and what it means to have cancer, but I do. Everything about cancer is terrifying: not knowing how much of my body it has invaded, the treatment, the financial implications of treatment, and possible resulting death from it. In order to live through this, I know that I must endure horrendous physical discomfort, and I’m not sure if I can take it.
But I have to—for my girls.
I turn page after page in a magazine that wouldn’t capture my interest even under normal circumstances while I wait for the tracer to move through my body. My brain hops from one terrifying thought to the next in a disoriented manner so rapidly that I can’t seem to land on one particular idea. I’m not sure how many times I mindlessly flip through the same magazine before I am led to the PET Scan room.
“Lie perfectly still,” the smiling technician tells me as the table I’m lying on moves into the machine. As the table comes to a stop and the clicking noises of the machine begin, I am overwhelmed with one thought.
David.
There was a time when we were extremely happy together. We met in college on a hiking trip that one of my friends invited me on. Stephanie had a crush on David’s friend Andrew and wanted me to come along to be her support. I wasn’t thrilled to go; I had never been an outdoorsy type of person, but for Steph, I’d suffer through it.
Steph and I splurged on new hiking boots—Steph had high hopes that this would not be our only opportunity to hike with the guys. I, on the other hand, thought they were cute enough that I wouldn’t mind wearing them even if I never hiked again—which I hoped I wouldn’t. My biggest mistake, however, was not trying to break them in before the trip. I had blisters on top of my blisters, and before we reached the top of the hill we were climbing, I wondered why in the world anyone would ever think that hiking was fun.
Steph had the motivation to keep pace with Andrew. If her feet were bothering her, I couldn’t tell. I, on the other hand, kept falling farther and farther behind the group. I stared at the ground, watching where I would place my next screaming foot. There was only one trail heading up the mountain, so I wasn’t worried about getting lost. I concentrated so much on trying not to focus on my throbbing feet that I nearly tripped when David’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“New boots?”
He grabbed my arm to keep me from falling. I stood there staring at his dark brown eyes. I couldn’t seem to look away. I realized that I hadn’t really looked at him before that moment. His sandy blond hair peeked out from under his baseball cap. The corner of his mouth raised in that crooked smile that would someday become so familiar to me. I’m not sure if it was his touch or that smile that made me catch my breath. There was something special about this man. “Yep,” I said.
“We’re almost to the top, so we can rest a little before heading back down.”
“What do you mean by almost? Your definition might be much different than mine.”
He laughed. “It’s not too far—I promise.” He kept ahold of my elbow as we made our way around the next curve. The top was still not in sight.
“I know this may surprise you, but I don’t hike much,” I said.
He smiled wide and said, “I’d have never guessed.”
“Seriously, if it’s much farther, I may have to wait here for you guys.”
He squeezed my elbow as I stumbled again.
“You can make it; trust me.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed him. But after about five more switch backs, we’d finally made it. The view was spectacular, even from my seated position.
“Take your boots off,” David said as he lowered his backpack to the ground.
“If I do, I’m not sure I’ll get them back on.”
David pulled out a small box filled with Band-Aids and triple antibiotic cream. “Let me see your blisters.”
There was something about baring my feet in front of David that made me extremely uncomfortable. “I’ll be fine.”
He gave me his crooked smile—man, was it appealing—and said, “You really should at least get Band-Aids on them to keep them from rubbing on the way down.”
“Give me that,” I said, reaching for the box. As I grabbed the box, David smiled wide as he held onto it for a few seconds before letting go. I waited until he was standing with the others before I started unlacing my boots.
I slid my socks off and let the cool breeze ease the stinging of my feet. My heels were the worst, but the outside of my feet also had blisters. When my feet started to get cold, I put the cream and the Band-Aids on. I really didn’t want to put my socks and boots back on, but walking down the rocky surface barefoot really wasn’t an option.
“You should wear thicker socks when you hike.”
David’s voice startled me. I hadn’t realized that he’d been watching and my face grew hot.
“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” I said, pretty sure that there wouldn’t be a next time.
David rummaged through his bag again and pulled out a pair of thick white socks. “Here, wear these.”
“No really, I’ll be fine.”
“No really,” he said playfully mimicking me, “I insist.”
He handed me the socks and held out his hand for me to give him my dirty ones. There was no way that I was going to hand him my sweaty socks. “Thank you,” I said, “for the Band-Aids and the socks.”
“My pleasure,” David said as he stooped to pick up my soiled socks. I snatched them up before he could touch them. He laughed. “Sorry.”
When I stood up, I crammed my dirty socks into my pocket. “Are you guys ready?” I said, while thinking, Let’s get this over with.
The way back down was much easier, although my boots irritated my feet in different areas than climbing had. David was right about the socks. They did help.
To my surprise, when David asked me if I wanted to hike with them again the following week, I said yes. On the ride back to our dorm room, I wondered why in the world I’d agreed, knowing full well the reason.
David.
I grew to love hiking, or maybe it was just that I loved David so much that I told myself that I loved it. I wonder if that’s when I started losing myself, when I started being just an extension of David. I don’t really know the answer to that because I’m still not sure who I am besides Emmie and Charlotte’s mother or David’s ex.
When the PET scan is over, something in the technician’s eyes as the table comes to a halt tells me that she knows the results, and they aren’t good. When I ask her about it, she says that the doctor has to read them and that he will contact me with the results in a few days.
I drink about a gallon of water when I got home, trying to flush the radioactive tracer out of my system. They’d told me that I shouldn’t be around pregnant women or small children for at least eight hours after the scan. My girls would be home in nine. I probably should’ve asked David to keep them overnight again, but he was already suspicious.
David is thirty-three minutes late returning the girls, which usually wouldn’t have bothered me. But the stress of the unknown, feeling like crap, and not being able to witness my girls first time at the water park has made me pretty surly. Charlotte had fallen asleep on the way home, so David carries her straight to her bed. While he is tucking her in, Emmie says, “Meredith put way too much sunscreen on me. Dad had to wipe it off with my towel.” I can tell that Emmie thought I’d find humor in Meredith’s incompetence, but I don’t. I’m furious.
David is smiling when he returns to the living room, which adds to my fury. “Why in hell was that woman putting sunscreen on our daughter?”
At first, David looks simply shocked, but then I see his brown eyes darken and his jaw tighten. “Because I didn’t want her to get sunburned.”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
David stiffens. “I was busy putting sunscreen on Charlotte.”
I put my hand on my hip. “Were you not capable of putting it on both of them?”
“What the hell, Tess? Meredith was only trying to help.”
“That woman has no business taking care of our children. That’s your job.”
In my frustration, I don’t notice that Emmie has begun to cry. David picks her up and holds her close while shooting me a now look what you’ve done look over her shoulder. I should apologize, but I don’t. Neither does David.
I reach out and gently take Emmie from David, and she seems to melt into me. I hate myself for picking a fight in front of her. I feel my eyes well up, but I manage to keep from crying in front of David. “Tell your dad good night and thank you for such a fun day.”
She raises her head as says, “Bye, Daddy. Thank you.”
David rubs her back, kisses her on her forehead, and says, “Bye, baby. I love you.”
I realize that David hasn’t been this close to me in months. I should take a step back, but all I want to do is lean into him.
“We’ll talk about this later,” David says as he heads out the door.
I wonder if we will talk about it or if we’ll just pretend my little outburst didn’t happen. The truth is that I’m not upset with David for letting his girlfriend put sunscreen on our daughter. I’m upset that another woman had stepped into my role as Emmie’s mother. Whether or not I live through this cancer of mine, I know that this will not be the last time that it will happen.
I let Emmie sleep in my bed both because I know that I’ve upset her and because I don’t want to be alone.
You asked for this, I tell myself.
But I have to—for my girls.
I turn page after page in a magazine that wouldn’t capture my interest even under normal circumstances while I wait for the tracer to move through my body. My brain hops from one terrifying thought to the next in a disoriented manner so rapidly that I can’t seem to land on one particular idea. I’m not sure how many times I mindlessly flip through the same magazine before I am led to the PET Scan room.
“Lie perfectly still,” the smiling technician tells me as the table I’m lying on moves into the machine. As the table comes to a stop and the clicking noises of the machine begin, I am overwhelmed with one thought.
David.
There was a time when we were extremely happy together. We met in college on a hiking trip that one of my friends invited me on. Stephanie had a crush on David’s friend Andrew and wanted me to come along to be her support. I wasn’t thrilled to go; I had never been an outdoorsy type of person, but for Steph, I’d suffer through it.
Steph and I splurged on new hiking boots—Steph had high hopes that this would not be our only opportunity to hike with the guys. I, on the other hand, thought they were cute enough that I wouldn’t mind wearing them even if I never hiked again—which I hoped I wouldn’t. My biggest mistake, however, was not trying to break them in before the trip. I had blisters on top of my blisters, and before we reached the top of the hill we were climbing, I wondered why in the world anyone would ever think that hiking was fun.
Steph had the motivation to keep pace with Andrew. If her feet were bothering her, I couldn’t tell. I, on the other hand, kept falling farther and farther behind the group. I stared at the ground, watching where I would place my next screaming foot. There was only one trail heading up the mountain, so I wasn’t worried about getting lost. I concentrated so much on trying not to focus on my throbbing feet that I nearly tripped when David’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“New boots?”
He grabbed my arm to keep me from falling. I stood there staring at his dark brown eyes. I couldn’t seem to look away. I realized that I hadn’t really looked at him before that moment. His sandy blond hair peeked out from under his baseball cap. The corner of his mouth raised in that crooked smile that would someday become so familiar to me. I’m not sure if it was his touch or that smile that made me catch my breath. There was something special about this man. “Yep,” I said.
“We’re almost to the top, so we can rest a little before heading back down.”
“What do you mean by almost? Your definition might be much different than mine.”
He laughed. “It’s not too far—I promise.” He kept ahold of my elbow as we made our way around the next curve. The top was still not in sight.
“I know this may surprise you, but I don’t hike much,” I said.
He smiled wide and said, “I’d have never guessed.”
“Seriously, if it’s much farther, I may have to wait here for you guys.”
He squeezed my elbow as I stumbled again.
“You can make it; trust me.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed him. But after about five more switch backs, we’d finally made it. The view was spectacular, even from my seated position.
“Take your boots off,” David said as he lowered his backpack to the ground.
“If I do, I’m not sure I’ll get them back on.”
David pulled out a small box filled with Band-Aids and triple antibiotic cream. “Let me see your blisters.”
There was something about baring my feet in front of David that made me extremely uncomfortable. “I’ll be fine.”
He gave me his crooked smile—man, was it appealing—and said, “You really should at least get Band-Aids on them to keep them from rubbing on the way down.”
“Give me that,” I said, reaching for the box. As I grabbed the box, David smiled wide as he held onto it for a few seconds before letting go. I waited until he was standing with the others before I started unlacing my boots.
I slid my socks off and let the cool breeze ease the stinging of my feet. My heels were the worst, but the outside of my feet also had blisters. When my feet started to get cold, I put the cream and the Band-Aids on. I really didn’t want to put my socks and boots back on, but walking down the rocky surface barefoot really wasn’t an option.
“You should wear thicker socks when you hike.”
David’s voice startled me. I hadn’t realized that he’d been watching and my face grew hot.
“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” I said, pretty sure that there wouldn’t be a next time.
David rummaged through his bag again and pulled out a pair of thick white socks. “Here, wear these.”
“No really, I’ll be fine.”
“No really,” he said playfully mimicking me, “I insist.”
He handed me the socks and held out his hand for me to give him my dirty ones. There was no way that I was going to hand him my sweaty socks. “Thank you,” I said, “for the Band-Aids and the socks.”
“My pleasure,” David said as he stooped to pick up my soiled socks. I snatched them up before he could touch them. He laughed. “Sorry.”
When I stood up, I crammed my dirty socks into my pocket. “Are you guys ready?” I said, while thinking, Let’s get this over with.
The way back down was much easier, although my boots irritated my feet in different areas than climbing had. David was right about the socks. They did help.
To my surprise, when David asked me if I wanted to hike with them again the following week, I said yes. On the ride back to our dorm room, I wondered why in the world I’d agreed, knowing full well the reason.
David.
I grew to love hiking, or maybe it was just that I loved David so much that I told myself that I loved it. I wonder if that’s when I started losing myself, when I started being just an extension of David. I don’t really know the answer to that because I’m still not sure who I am besides Emmie and Charlotte’s mother or David’s ex.
When the PET scan is over, something in the technician’s eyes as the table comes to a halt tells me that she knows the results, and they aren’t good. When I ask her about it, she says that the doctor has to read them and that he will contact me with the results in a few days.
I drink about a gallon of water when I got home, trying to flush the radioactive tracer out of my system. They’d told me that I shouldn’t be around pregnant women or small children for at least eight hours after the scan. My girls would be home in nine. I probably should’ve asked David to keep them overnight again, but he was already suspicious.
David is thirty-three minutes late returning the girls, which usually wouldn’t have bothered me. But the stress of the unknown, feeling like crap, and not being able to witness my girls first time at the water park has made me pretty surly. Charlotte had fallen asleep on the way home, so David carries her straight to her bed. While he is tucking her in, Emmie says, “Meredith put way too much sunscreen on me. Dad had to wipe it off with my towel.” I can tell that Emmie thought I’d find humor in Meredith’s incompetence, but I don’t. I’m furious.
David is smiling when he returns to the living room, which adds to my fury. “Why in hell was that woman putting sunscreen on our daughter?”
At first, David looks simply shocked, but then I see his brown eyes darken and his jaw tighten. “Because I didn’t want her to get sunburned.”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
David stiffens. “I was busy putting sunscreen on Charlotte.”
I put my hand on my hip. “Were you not capable of putting it on both of them?”
“What the hell, Tess? Meredith was only trying to help.”
“That woman has no business taking care of our children. That’s your job.”
In my frustration, I don’t notice that Emmie has begun to cry. David picks her up and holds her close while shooting me a now look what you’ve done look over her shoulder. I should apologize, but I don’t. Neither does David.
I reach out and gently take Emmie from David, and she seems to melt into me. I hate myself for picking a fight in front of her. I feel my eyes well up, but I manage to keep from crying in front of David. “Tell your dad good night and thank you for such a fun day.”
She raises her head as says, “Bye, Daddy. Thank you.”
David rubs her back, kisses her on her forehead, and says, “Bye, baby. I love you.”
I realize that David hasn’t been this close to me in months. I should take a step back, but all I want to do is lean into him.
“We’ll talk about this later,” David says as he heads out the door.
I wonder if we will talk about it or if we’ll just pretend my little outburst didn’t happen. The truth is that I’m not upset with David for letting his girlfriend put sunscreen on our daughter. I’m upset that another woman had stepped into my role as Emmie’s mother. Whether or not I live through this cancer of mine, I know that this will not be the last time that it will happen.
I let Emmie sleep in my bed both because I know that I’ve upset her and because I don’t want to be alone.
You asked for this, I tell myself.
Section 3 (Spring 2019)
When I wake up, I realize that Charlotte has crawled into bed with Emmie and me. I cuddle with both of them and think about how much I love these girls. I would do anything for them—including apologizing to their dad. My stomach is one huge knot, and I feel terrible for how I acted toward David. I can’t believe that was really me.
The girls and I make pancakes together for breakfast and afterwards decide to bake peanut butter chocolate chip cookies—David’s favorite. Just as I am pulling the last batch out of the oven, my phone rings. My heart drops when I see that it’s my oncologist on the phone.
The conversation is short. He has the results of my PET scan and wants me to come to his office tomorrow for him to share them with me. “Make sure you bring someone with you this time,” he says. “No one should have to go through this alone.”
“I’ll try,” I say, knowing that I won’t.
Mrs. Mills from next door knocks, asking if the girls can come to her house for a few hours to play with her grandkids. The free time allows me to take care of something that I don’t want to but know that I need to. I shower, get dressed, and grab a plateful of cookies before making my way to David’s office.
As I amble through the office building, I try to remember the last time I visited David here. It was before the divorce—when I was numb. I remember sitting in the chair in front of his desk but not anything we talked about. Those months before we separated are a blur to me. When I try to picture David’s and my interactions back then, it’s like looking into a foggy mirror. I see shapes, and I know who was there but nothing else. Only the feeling of being stuck in quick sand and the weight of our failing marriage pushing me under is clear. I step off the elevator on David’s floor and immediately spot David’s secretary.
“Oh my goodness, Tess, it’s so good to see you,” Amy, says as I enter. “How are you, dear?”
I can tell that she is surprised to see me, and I feel ashamed for that. I ignore her question because I can’t bring myself to lie to such a sweet lady. She has always treated my girls and me as if seeing us were the best part of her day. “It’s good to see you too. You look amazing,” I say. “Is he busy?”
She winks at me, smiles, and says, “Why, no, he isn’t. Go right in.”
“You might want to warn him.”
“Nope,” she says and gestures me toward his office.
I realize why when I get to his door and hear the voices of Meredith and David. I recognize the tone in his voice—the one that is a mixture of disappointment and frustration—the one that comes just before he loses his temper.
I hated David’s temper, not because it was scary, because it wasn’t, but because of the way he looked at me when he was angry. The hurt and sadness that came with his irritation with me was hard to look at. Even now I feel the shame at David’s tone.
I consider waiting until she leaves to go in but decide, what the hell. I knock on David’s open door before stepping in. David’s eyes widen upon seeing me. Evidently, he is just as surprised as Amy. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
David doesn’t even look toward Meredith when he says, “Can you give us a minute, Mer?”
Meredith’s mouth drops open as a squeaking sound escapes from the back of her throat. She crosses her arms and says, “Whatever she has to say to you, she can say it in front of me.”
David’s jaw tightens; he closes his eyes, and lets out a noisy sigh. He glances at her and says, “Please, Meredith. And close the door on your way out.”
She looks at me and then back at David as if she was waiting for him to change his mind. She finally accepts defeat and leaves, closing the door firmly behind her.
“I brought a peace offering,” I say as I approach David’s desk.
He smiles and asks, “Are those?”
I return his smile, a real smile this time, and say, “Peanut butter chocolate chip, yes.”
“Thank you.”
I plop down in the chair in front of David’s desk and say, “I’m really sorry for the way I acted last night.”
“It’s okay. I understand that it’s difficult for another woman to—”
“Yes, it is. It’s still no excuse. The divorce was my idea, and I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re moving on. Having another woman step into my shoes is just part of the deal, right?”
A crease of worry appears on David’s forehead. “No one can step into your shoes, Tess. Our girls have one mother. That won’t change.”
I think about my oncology appointment tomorrow and know that there is a chance that David’s words, no matter how well meaning, are probably wrong. I can’t expect my girls to grow up motherless, even if the very thought of them calling someone else mom makes me feel sick.
We sit in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. For some reason, my mind goes back to the night our marriage ended. We were sitting in our living room after the kids had gone to bed. We both stared at the television, like we did every night. I can’t remember what we were watching or even if I knew at the time. I just remember the heaviness in my chest and the empty feeling in the bottom of my stomach.
There was a time when we took this time to talk, just us, with no interruptions. We used to laugh until our sides hurt and tears ran down our cheeks. It had been years, it seemed, since that happened. We rarely even smiled at each other anymore. For that matter, I rarely smiled at all.
“I think we should get divorced.” The words fell from my lips without thought. I don’t know what had inspired them. I hadn’t been thinking about it, it just happened.
David’s eyes widened. He looked at me for a long moment as his dark eyes shifted from shock to hurt and disappointment. I’d come to know that particular expression rather well in those days. I didn’t look away like I usually did. I’m not sure how I managed to hold his gaze.
“Are you sure?” He asks in a voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.
“Yes,” I say without looking away.
David stands and starts pacing across the room. He rubs his hands down the front of his pants as if he is trying to wipe something distasteful off of them. He shakes his head over and over, obviously trying to make sense out of what was happening in our living room. “We don’t have to rush to this decision. We could go to counseling.”
I look out the window. It’s as if someone else spoke through my mouth as I said, “I think it’s too late for that.”
David stops in the middle of the room staring at my face. “Okay,” he said. Without another word, he turned and left our home.
I stared at the door my husband of fifteen years had disappeared through. I wasn’t sad or mad or anything. I was just empty.
I look at David and wonder if he is thinking about the same thing I am. The sadness in his eyes makes me think that the possibility is pretty high that he is.
“Yeah, well, I am sorry,” I say, apologizing for much more than last night’s behavior.
We sit in awkward silence for a few more minutes, both lost in our own regret. “I should go and let you and Meredith get back to whatever you were doing.”
As I get up to leave, David says, “Thanks again for the cookies.”
I manage a small smile. “You’re welcome.” I consider asking him to come with me to the doctor’s office tomorrow but reject the idea almost immediately. He’s not my husband anymore.
I’m almost to the door when David says, “Tess.”
I turn to look at him.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t fight harder for our family.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Me too.”
I manage to make it to the car before breaking down. Eighteen months ago, I was sure that I had stopped loving David. Our marriage had gone flat. We’d become more like roommates than a married couple. The girls were the only bonds we had left. Divorce seemed like the only escape from my unhappiness. I didn’t realize then that it would only add to it.
Maybe it’s facing possible impending death that has awoken my feelings for David. Maybe it was seeing him with Meredith and our daughters pulling out of my driveway a couple days ago. Whatever it is, I know this: I’m still in love with my ex‑husband.
How could I have been so stupid?
The girls and I make pancakes together for breakfast and afterwards decide to bake peanut butter chocolate chip cookies—David’s favorite. Just as I am pulling the last batch out of the oven, my phone rings. My heart drops when I see that it’s my oncologist on the phone.
The conversation is short. He has the results of my PET scan and wants me to come to his office tomorrow for him to share them with me. “Make sure you bring someone with you this time,” he says. “No one should have to go through this alone.”
“I’ll try,” I say, knowing that I won’t.
Mrs. Mills from next door knocks, asking if the girls can come to her house for a few hours to play with her grandkids. The free time allows me to take care of something that I don’t want to but know that I need to. I shower, get dressed, and grab a plateful of cookies before making my way to David’s office.
As I amble through the office building, I try to remember the last time I visited David here. It was before the divorce—when I was numb. I remember sitting in the chair in front of his desk but not anything we talked about. Those months before we separated are a blur to me. When I try to picture David’s and my interactions back then, it’s like looking into a foggy mirror. I see shapes, and I know who was there but nothing else. Only the feeling of being stuck in quick sand and the weight of our failing marriage pushing me under is clear. I step off the elevator on David’s floor and immediately spot David’s secretary.
“Oh my goodness, Tess, it’s so good to see you,” Amy, says as I enter. “How are you, dear?”
I can tell that she is surprised to see me, and I feel ashamed for that. I ignore her question because I can’t bring myself to lie to such a sweet lady. She has always treated my girls and me as if seeing us were the best part of her day. “It’s good to see you too. You look amazing,” I say. “Is he busy?”
She winks at me, smiles, and says, “Why, no, he isn’t. Go right in.”
“You might want to warn him.”
“Nope,” she says and gestures me toward his office.
I realize why when I get to his door and hear the voices of Meredith and David. I recognize the tone in his voice—the one that is a mixture of disappointment and frustration—the one that comes just before he loses his temper.
I hated David’s temper, not because it was scary, because it wasn’t, but because of the way he looked at me when he was angry. The hurt and sadness that came with his irritation with me was hard to look at. Even now I feel the shame at David’s tone.
I consider waiting until she leaves to go in but decide, what the hell. I knock on David’s open door before stepping in. David’s eyes widen upon seeing me. Evidently, he is just as surprised as Amy. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
David doesn’t even look toward Meredith when he says, “Can you give us a minute, Mer?”
Meredith’s mouth drops open as a squeaking sound escapes from the back of her throat. She crosses her arms and says, “Whatever she has to say to you, she can say it in front of me.”
David’s jaw tightens; he closes his eyes, and lets out a noisy sigh. He glances at her and says, “Please, Meredith. And close the door on your way out.”
She looks at me and then back at David as if she was waiting for him to change his mind. She finally accepts defeat and leaves, closing the door firmly behind her.
“I brought a peace offering,” I say as I approach David’s desk.
He smiles and asks, “Are those?”
I return his smile, a real smile this time, and say, “Peanut butter chocolate chip, yes.”
“Thank you.”
I plop down in the chair in front of David’s desk and say, “I’m really sorry for the way I acted last night.”
“It’s okay. I understand that it’s difficult for another woman to—”
“Yes, it is. It’s still no excuse. The divorce was my idea, and I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re moving on. Having another woman step into my shoes is just part of the deal, right?”
A crease of worry appears on David’s forehead. “No one can step into your shoes, Tess. Our girls have one mother. That won’t change.”
I think about my oncology appointment tomorrow and know that there is a chance that David’s words, no matter how well meaning, are probably wrong. I can’t expect my girls to grow up motherless, even if the very thought of them calling someone else mom makes me feel sick.
We sit in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. For some reason, my mind goes back to the night our marriage ended. We were sitting in our living room after the kids had gone to bed. We both stared at the television, like we did every night. I can’t remember what we were watching or even if I knew at the time. I just remember the heaviness in my chest and the empty feeling in the bottom of my stomach.
There was a time when we took this time to talk, just us, with no interruptions. We used to laugh until our sides hurt and tears ran down our cheeks. It had been years, it seemed, since that happened. We rarely even smiled at each other anymore. For that matter, I rarely smiled at all.
“I think we should get divorced.” The words fell from my lips without thought. I don’t know what had inspired them. I hadn’t been thinking about it, it just happened.
David’s eyes widened. He looked at me for a long moment as his dark eyes shifted from shock to hurt and disappointment. I’d come to know that particular expression rather well in those days. I didn’t look away like I usually did. I’m not sure how I managed to hold his gaze.
“Are you sure?” He asks in a voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.
“Yes,” I say without looking away.
David stands and starts pacing across the room. He rubs his hands down the front of his pants as if he is trying to wipe something distasteful off of them. He shakes his head over and over, obviously trying to make sense out of what was happening in our living room. “We don’t have to rush to this decision. We could go to counseling.”
I look out the window. It’s as if someone else spoke through my mouth as I said, “I think it’s too late for that.”
David stops in the middle of the room staring at my face. “Okay,” he said. Without another word, he turned and left our home.
I stared at the door my husband of fifteen years had disappeared through. I wasn’t sad or mad or anything. I was just empty.
I look at David and wonder if he is thinking about the same thing I am. The sadness in his eyes makes me think that the possibility is pretty high that he is.
“Yeah, well, I am sorry,” I say, apologizing for much more than last night’s behavior.
We sit in awkward silence for a few more minutes, both lost in our own regret. “I should go and let you and Meredith get back to whatever you were doing.”
As I get up to leave, David says, “Thanks again for the cookies.”
I manage a small smile. “You’re welcome.” I consider asking him to come with me to the doctor’s office tomorrow but reject the idea almost immediately. He’s not my husband anymore.
I’m almost to the door when David says, “Tess.”
I turn to look at him.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t fight harder for our family.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Me too.”
I manage to make it to the car before breaking down. Eighteen months ago, I was sure that I had stopped loving David. Our marriage had gone flat. We’d become more like roommates than a married couple. The girls were the only bonds we had left. Divorce seemed like the only escape from my unhappiness. I didn’t realize then that it would only add to it.
Maybe it’s facing possible impending death that has awoken my feelings for David. Maybe it was seeing him with Meredith and our daughters pulling out of my driveway a couple days ago. Whatever it is, I know this: I’m still in love with my ex‑husband.
How could I have been so stupid?
|
|
