“Mom, can’t you just talk to him? See if you guys can work this out?” My fourteen-year-old daughter’s eyes weren’t even moist. In the weeks since her father had walked out, I think she had cried every tear she would ever have.
For most men, midlife crisis might mean starting to work out again or maybe a new Corvette. But Todd took his 45th birthday hard. Halfway through his life expectancy and what did he have to show for it? A dead-end job, a too-small house and no “do-over”. The kids and I became part of the whole package. The weight that kept him anchored in an unwanted harbor.
I had cried, too, but my tears had stopped after a few days. I locked them in, too angry to allow any more to fall. If Todd felt trapped and miserable and wanted out then, by golly, there’s the door. Don’t trip over the cat on your way out!
“I don’t need to talk to him.” I snapped as I put the last dirty glass into the dishwasher and slammed the door. “If he wants to talk, he can call for an appointment!”
Rachel opened her mouth to reply. I marched out of the kitchen and down the hall, but her voice followed. “Mom, he tried! You hung up on him!”
“I can’t help it if I had to take another call.” I shot back. The truth was, I didn’t have to take the call at all. It had only been Howard from work. And he called all the time.
It had taken less than a day for my one-horse town to spread the word that Todd and I had separated. Immediately, the vultures started circling, and Howard was in the lead.
Howard had been overly attentive at the office, anyway. And lately, every day he had asked me to lunch or dinner. He had even gone so far as to send me an invitation to an extravagant weekend getaway. One word at a time, each tied to a helium balloon.
I’d turned him down but had to admit, it was the most attractive and desirable I’d felt in – well, years! Even so, separated or not, I was still married. I just felt that dating was inappropriate.
My son’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Mom, Sandy called. She’s got a package for you at her shop. She said you need to pick it up right away.”
“Oh, great,” I moaned. “Here we go again.” Reluctantly I slipped on my flip-flops and old sweatshirt, muttering the whole time. “When will he get a clue?”
It was only a few blocks to Sandy’s Candies and Flowers. I couldn’t help but wonder what lengths Howard had gone to this time. I certainly couldn’t fault the man for his persistence. But you’d think he could have at least delivered it himself! Oh well. Some men just don’t get it.
In the shop wonderful, smooth scents of chocolates and fruit crème’s blended with heady antique rose and lavender. I stood in the doorway in inhaled.
“Oh, good! You’re here!” Sandy handed me a small, ring-sized box. I stared, afraid to take it. “Go ahead,” she said, putting it into my trembling hands. “It won’t bite.”
Inside was a single, heart-shaped chocolate. My sigh of relief was audible. Then I read the words drizzled in raspberry gel. “119 W. Main”
“What’s this?” I asked.
Sandy shrugged, a flicker of a smile on her lips.
One-nineteen West Main Streetwas a hardware store. Russ Hanford, the owner, saw me come in and reached behind his counter, drawing out a long-stemmed red rose.
“Here,” he said, returning to an assortment of nails. Russ never was a big talker.
Taped to the rose was a long strip of white paper which read, “422 S. 3rd.”
At the laundry mat, Andrea, a 16 year-old high school student giggled, handing me a second rose with paper attached. Subsequent addresses took me to the corner grocer, the pharmacy, a gas station and finally the bank.
Teresa, my regular teller, handed me the sixth rose and another ring-sized box. It was empty except for a scrap of paper with the words, “Turn around.”
I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh. What could Howard possibly have in mind this time? I was still technically married and would have to find some way to make him understand. I’d just have to give the roses back and tell him to stop this nonsense.
Squaring my shoulders and setting my chin, I spun around to face…
…Todd?
He stood there, seeming much smaller than his normal 6’4” height. His face was drawn. Dark circles hung beneath red-rimmed eyes.
I tried to find words that wouldn’t come, but he raised his hand to stop me. He said nothing. Just stared at me, completely void of words. When he finally tried to speak, he couldn't. His eyes dropped to the floor. I wanted to say something - to ask him where the hell he had been? What was so terribly wrong with me that he couldn't stand to be around me any more? But I didn't. I just stood, allowing him whatever time he needed. The wait felt like hours.
“It’s – I wish – What I’m--,” he fumbled, growing more agitated with every failed effort.
As he struggled, I stared at deep creases I’d never seen before across his face. Stubble covered his once strong chin, more grey showing than I’d remembered. It hadn’t been that long, had it? My heart melted before this wreck of a man.
Todd drew a deep breath, collected himself and spoke deliberately. “Angie, I’m sorry.”
I started to say something defensive, but again the hand.
“I’m so very sorry,” he continued, his chin trembling. “I was an idiot.”
I watched as the grizzly bear I’d known crumbled beneath the load in his heart. He reached for me.
I stood there, frozen. How could I just forget? How could he ask me to? All the long, endless nights, wanting to cry but too angry and hurt for tears to bring release. The miles I ran to numb the pain. And the kids! Would they ever get over being abandoned by their father?
As Todd pulled me to him, I pushed away, resisting. I read confusion in his eyes but felt more in myself. My heart yearned for reunion while my mind raged against the weakness and betrayal.
I slapped Todd, leaving a clear handprint on his cheek. He stared at me, stunned. I slapped him again, and the tears behind my eyes finally broke through. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to his chest. I pounded my fists against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
“How could you?” I cried. My assault lost its fury as he wrapped his arms around me. “How could you?”
Todd’s face buried into my neck. “I’m lost without you.”
“What happens next time?” I fought against his iron grip. “I can’t do this again!”
Todd took my face in his great, calloused hands and kissed me. “You are the air I breathe!” His eyes didn’t blink once as he continued. “I swear to you, it’s done. I’m here with you. For good.”
“Never again?” I sniffed.
“Never again.”
I looked deep into his eyes, feeling all the hurt, all the anger, all the distrust dissolve from my heart in a haze. I searched and searched to find it, but it wouldn’t come. It just wasn’t there. A quietness began to take its place. A simple reaffirmation that my family was whole again.
“Promise?” I asked.
“I promise.” His eyes plead for an answer.
My eyes closed, allowing me a moment of pseudo-solitude while I drew in a deep breath, then released it, listening for the return of my heartbeat. For the first time in two months, I heard it back where it belonged and whole, not lying in a fractured heap at the bottom of my chest. I kissed his moist cheeks and traced the lines with my fingertip. “The kids are waiting. Let’s go home.”
