Torn
May, 1999
For the last four months, every week has been the same. I go to work every single day, even on the weekends and not because I’m gaga crazy about my job, either. It’s because I’m like every other single gal out there, and I gotta make my own jack to support myself. My boss is preying on my vulnerability, too, and it’s really starting to piss me off. It’s like he assumes I’ve got nothing better to do and he’s taking advantage of my dependence on a paycheck by piling on the work and the guilt for not getting it done fast enough. Of course, he’d back off if I slept with him, but that’s the biggest thing that sets me apart from every other chick at this f*cking company.
Megan started working at my office right after holy f*cking shit night, so by the time she found out I was married and called Leo to blab the news to him, he said, “I already know, and I thought I told you never to call me again.” The poor girl thinks I’m the chupacabra, so she does her best to avoid me in the office. As far as I know, she’s doing a fine job with her internship, and as long as she stays out of my business, she can keep it. My co-workers are still trying to set me up with old rich guys, but I happily tell them no, I’m already pursuing a young poor one. All that judgment in the workplace that I was so afraid of never came to fruition, at least not that I’m aware of or care about. Dr. Maria was right; once I got far enough away from Kurt, I’ve starting caring a whole lot less about what people think of me.
It’s been six months since I moved into my cottage and the bad news is it’s still a torture chamber. I literally run a million miles an hour to avoid the inevitable. The inevitable being that I have to divorce Kurt, and Leo’s gonna find out that it’s happening later rather than sooner. According to the timeline I gave Leo on holy f*cking shit night, I should’ve been divorced two months ago. Obviously that hasn’t happened. And not because the folks in the Contra Costa County recorder’s office aren’t doing their due diligence either, it’s because they don’t even know about Gibbons vs. Gibbons yet! Leo, on the other hand, thinks things are moving along… at a slugs pace. I told him there was a log jam of other stupid ass idiots that got married for all the wrong reasons, and things are gonna to take a little longer than expected to get finalized. Then I asked him not to ask me about it again because it really stresses me out. I guess he was afraid I’d bolt again if he pestered me about it, because, miraculously, he hasn’t brought it up once. My old fear of him finding out about my marriage is now replaced by my new fear of him finding out I haven’t even filed for divorce yet, except this time, I’m more fearful of the outcome if I’m exposed. Until I get the courage to drop the hammer on Kurt, I only have one option and that’s to make Leo fall even more in love with me to cushion the blow of the truth when it’s finally exposed. Maybe then he’ll only slightly murder me.
And fall deeper in love we have. Earlier this year we spent a snowy weekend at my timeshare in Tahoe that was absolutely fabulous. Every night we snuggled by the fire as we watched the sunset over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and we talked until it reappeared. He let me cry over the mistakes of my past and offered me the reassurance I needed for my sanity that everything happens for a reason. Hard as it was for him to be glad I was married before, he admitted, if I wasn’t, I most likely wouldn’t have been at Buckley’s that night.
A few weeks ago, we spent an incredibly romantic weekend at The Cliffs at Shell beach near San Luis Obispo. We picnicked on the beach, got shit faced at the hotel bar, and broke into the pool after hours and went skinny dipping. We even went wine tasting and made our first couples purchase together, a wine of the month club. The bulk of the trip was paid for by me because Leo’s still struggling to get through college, but he insisted on paying for half of the wine. Now each bottle we drink together reminds me of how much he loves me and that he’ll do anything to make me happy, even eat canned chili for ten days straight because the wine club purchase busted his budget.
Now it’s May and in one month, Leo will FINALLY graduate from college. He even has job offers from two investment banks. One is from Robertson Stevens in San Francisco and the other is with Lehman Brothers in New York. Even though I’d be devastated if he went to New York, I’ve said nothing to persuade his decision one way or the other. If anything, I’m acting more supportive of the New York job just so Taddeo doesn’t think I’m trying to hold him back. He told me he’ll have his choice made by the time we go to Mexico, a trip we have planned the day after he graduates.
The last time I saw Courtney, Kelly, and Nicole was at my cottage in January to celebrate the New Year, and to tell you the truth, it was just plain awkward.
“Wow, so this is the new place, huh? It’s cute but it’s just so… small. I could never live here after living in your house.”
A compliment accompanied by a slam. That’s Kelly for you. Seriously, sometimes I think she’s gonna rip a mask off of her face and it’s really Kurt under there.
“How long do you plan on staying here?”
“Why? You don’t like it?”
“You could be back home if you wanted to.”
“Damn it Kel…”
“Just hear me out. Kurt went out with the guys a few weeks ago, and he told them he wants you back big time. Says he’ll do anything.”
One by one, I look at their dopey grins. They still don’t get it.
“I’d want me back big time too. But it’s not possible because the only time in my life I ever felt like I was good enough to want back was after I met Leo, and it was him that made me feel it. I can’t go back to Kurt knowing that.”
The rest of the evening was a struggle for all of us. Nicole tried to express interest in what was going on with Leo, well mostly what was going on sexually with Leo. But Courtney and Kelly said they felt weird talking about my “lover” when I still had a husband. I sort of get it but if you can’t talk to your best friends about your “lover” who can you talk to? After that night, it seems like we’ve given up on each other. Aside from a few frivolous emails, I haven’t had meaningful communication with any of them for months.
So to sum up the last four months, everything’s changed and nothing’s changed, and in so many ways, I’m right back where I started. Right now I’m on my way to the house in Danville to pick up some of my mail and let the dog out to pee. Kurt has to work late or play softball, I can’t remember which, but he asked me to help him out, and I want to. After saying hi to a few curious neighbors that I make more curious by not telling them what the hell is going on, I walk around the house that doesn’t feel like mine anymore. The bed’s not made, dishes are piled high in the sink, and the toilet seat is up…in all three bathrooms. I search for clues that another woman’s been here. In March, I cracked into Kurt’s email account, (like a guy moron he didn’t change the password after I moved out), and I read one very flirtatious email from a chick named Kayla. What a stupid name, Kaaaaaayla. I checked the date of the email to make sure it was sent after holy f*cking shit night when I told Kurt he should see other people too. It was. After I swallowed the bile that crept up my throat, I reminded myself that I didn’t have justification to rip his balls off. He’s just doing what I told him to do. Satisfied that Kaaaaaayla hasn’t been in my house, I make my way to the office to pick up some of my mail. “What’s this?” Our wedding album is sitting on the floor and right next to it is a list of songs and a cassette tape. “Kurt and mixed tapes?” That’s a sight I never thought I’d see. I pop the tape in the stereo and the only song on it is ‘Torn’ by Natalie Imbruglia.
“You couldn’t be that man I adored… you don’t seem to care what your hearts for… I’m all out of faith… illusion never changed into something real.”
He’s searching for answers, he’s contemplating failure, he’s growing, and I’m moved to tears. I hold the cassette tape to my heart for a minute before I put it in my purse and kiss the dog on the nose, “See you soon, buddy.” I miss my pretty house, and I miss the dream, but I don’t think ten thousand mixed tapes could get me to move back here.
Here’s to the nights we felt alive
Here’s to the tears you knew you’d cry
Here’s to goodbye
Tomorrow’s gonna come too soon
(Here’s to the Night, eve 6)