To his amazement, he felt a spark of jealousy. He’d tried for years to get her to paint again.
Or had he only meant to encourage her? Now he couldn’t separate the intention from the act. Still, when he said, “That’s great, Birdie,” he meant it.
“I talked—”
“Do you—”
They spoke at once, then both laughed. Jack said, “You first.”
“I just talked to Jamie. She’s having a hard time. You know … school, swimming, Dad’s death, Stephie’s graduation. It’s a lot for her to deal with by herself.”
“And she’s always had you before.”
“That’s probably part of it. Anyway, she’ll be calling you for advice. Be gentle with her, okay? Listen before you talk.”
Whatever the hell that meant. He was a great listener with his girls. “Okay.”
“Good.” Then, “I’m … having a hard time lying to them. Are you?”
“Lying? What do you mean?”
“You know … telling them I’m getting the house ready for renters. Jamie won’t accept that forever. Pretty soon, I think we’ll have to tell them the truth.”
Jack felt as if he’d been sucker punched. As much as he loved his new single life, he wasn’t ready to contemplate the end of their family.
Their family.
In the time it took to draw a breath and push it out, he remembered the whole of their life together, the good times and the bad.
The one thing he’d always counted on, the bedrock of his life, was that Elizabeth loved him. Her plea for a short-term separation hadn’t actually altered that belief. But now, he wondered.
All bullshit and adolescent dreams aside, could he live without her love?
“There’s a chance for us, isn’t there?” he asked.
It took her a moment to answer. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I hope so.”
He smiled, relieved. “I hope so, too, baby.”
Another silence fell.
At last, Elizabeth said, “Don’t forget about Jamie. She’s fragile right now. Be gentle.”
She’d said that twice now. “I’m always gentle with her.”
Elizabeth sighed … or was that a muffled laugh? He couldn’t be sure. Either way, it was vaguely irritating. “I can’t keep you and your daughters on track anymore, Jack. Your relationship with Jamie is up to you.”
He had no idea what she meant by that. “Okay.”
“Well, I’d better let you get back to work.”
“Yeah. It was good talking to you,” he said, and they were strangers again.
“Good talking to you, too.”
He realized he was waiting for her to say, I love you, when he heard the dial tone.
Elizabeth felt a sudden urge to call him back and say, We can’t be this far apart.
But they were distant now, emotionally as well as physically. That was what she’d wanted. It was why he’d sounded so confident and happy when he answered the phone—and so guarded and awkward when he realized who’d called.
After twenty-four years of sharing every moment of life, they’d drifted to separate coasts and picked up separate lives. Their conversations came in a kind of Morse code; hurried sentences punctuated by elongated pauses.
She tried to cull through the rubble of her emotions to find the truest one. Only a few days ago, she’d seen an old photograph of them and thought, There’s still a chance for us. But every day took them farther away from the love that had once bound them together.
She was at a crossroads suddenly; one she hadn’t even seen approaching. And yet, here she was, standing at the corner of what she’d dreamed of and what she’d left behind.
If she picked up the phone and called Jack, she would turn back into who she’d been.
Someday (and, yes, she knew she still held that hope close) she would feel strong enough, sure enough of herself, to call Jack and say, I love you; let’s try again.
But not today.
TWENTY-ONE
Dear Birdie:
That conversation we had the other day has stayed with me. As usual, you’re holding your troubles close to your chest, thinking I can’t understand. Me being the wicked stepmother and all.
For years, I’ve let you run the show on who we are. I’m tired of that. Maybe it’s because I’m old and you don’t scare me like you used to. Or maybe it’s because I’m alone now, and life looks different to me.
Believe me, honey, I know what it’s like to be unhappy in your marriage. One disappointment feeds on another until one day you leave him. You become the trapped wolf who eats her own foot to be free.
But if you’re like me, you discover that the world is a big, dark place. And love—even if it isn’t what you’d thought it would be—is the only light for miles.
So, Birdie, darlin’, I understand.
I don’t have any advice for you. If there’s one thing I’ve discovered in this life it’s that deep truths are uncovered alone.
My prayers are with you and Jack and those beautiful girls.
XXOO
Anita
P.S. Don’t bother writing back. I’m taking your advice and heading to the beach!