“Hey, babe?” I waited for her sleepy hum before I said, “I need you to make me laugh.”
Anytime we talked on the phone, I wouldn’t let her go without turning our conversation around. It didn’t matter how deep our discussions were, I needed to hear something light before hanging up. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she wrote a few down, anticipating this part of our calls.
Her smile filled her words when she asked, “What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?”
“A carrot.” Even though I knew the punchline, it didn’t stop the smile from forming. “That was easy. Give me another one.”
“Fine. What’s clear and smells like red paint?”
I thought about it for a moment before giving up. “I don’t know.”
“Chloroform. Shhhh.”
Laughter hit me so hard it boomed in the dark room around me.
“Goodnight, Cash. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Night, babe.”
I didn’t even bother to put the cell away, just dropped it onto the mattress next to me and rolled over. But sleep didn’t come easily. I tossed and turned, replaying her words in my head—all of them. They were still on repeat when I finally woke up, after only what felt like a couple of hours of sleep, and the replay continued until mid-afternoon.
Me: Are you busy?”
I worried about texting her, about bothering her, but I needed my own closure. Without answers, I’d forever be plagued with questions and what-ifs. So, I sucked it up and sent her a message, and then stared at the screen in anticipation of the bubbles indicating her typing.
Colleen: No. Is everything ok???
Ever since the night I’d packed a bag and left, I hadn’t spoken to her. She’d tried for a while once she realized I was truly gone, but by that point, I was over it—not over what she did, but rather the idea of being with anyone. I didn’t need her excuses or to listen to all the ways it was my fault. When it came time to serve her with papers, I’d let my attorney handle everything. He’d been the one to deal with Colleen, and luckily, the divorce was smooth. She didn’t ask for anything, and I didn’t care for more than what I had.
So I didn’t blame her for worrying if everything was okay when she finally heard from me.
Me: Yeah. I just have a question, and I really hope you’ll answer. I never gave you the chance to talk before, but I hope you understand I was just too angry and hurt to hear it. But now I need to know…why’d you do it? Why cheat on me?
The bubbles bounced on the screen, and the longer it went on, the more impatient I became.
Colleen: I feel like anything I say will be wrong in your eyes
Me: Cheating was wrong. Your reasons are just that…your reasons.
While waiting for her response, the phone began to vibrate in my hand, Colleen’s name flashing at the top. I wanted answers, but at the same time, I didn’t care to speak to her. I no longer carried the hatred I had a year ago, but that didn’t mean I wanted to invite her back into my life. I only needed this answer for one thing, and one thing only. And it wasn’t about her.
“I think things might get lost in translation over text, so I figured a call would be best. I hope that’s all right with you. If not, I can go back to texting.” Her voice didn’t even sound familiar anymore. This was the woman I had been married to for six years, lived with, loved, yet I wouldn’t have been able to recognize her by her voice if I had a gun to my head.
“This is fine. I just really need to know.”
“Is it a girl?” Her question caught me by surprise. “Have you found someone else, and you’re worried she’ll do the same?”
“I’m not discussing this with you, Colleen. You said you would answer the question, but if it comes with strings or stipulations, then never mind. You don’t have the right to ask me about my relationship status.”
“Cash,” she said, preventing me from carrying on with my tangent. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about it all.”
I grew frustrated at the sound of her tears. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I reached out. I only meant to ask a question, not give her the chance I’d been denying her for over a year. “Forget it. This was a mistake.”
“Why can’t you just let me fucking apologize?” Intense pain roared in her voice as she barked her demanding inquiry. When I didn’t respond, too shocked to say anything, she continued, but this time, in a much softer tone. “That’s all I’ve wanted, Cash. To say I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I can’t take it back. I can’t make it right or fix it. I hurt you, and there’s not enough apologies in the world to make that better. I’ve never blamed you or made up excuses for my actions. All this time, I’ve only wanted a chance to say sorry and know you heard it.”
Well, I definitely heard that, and it made me realize so much more. Even to this day, it seemed my ex had carried this guilt around with her, and all she needed to set it free was a moment of my time to own her mistake and apologize. It gave me even more hope that Jade and her mother would be able to work through everything, including the horrifying truth, as long as they chose to listen to one another.
“Thank you, Colleen.”
“And thank you for giving me that chance. Now…you had a question. I feel the need to preface this by saying I’m fully aware that nothing you could’ve ever done would warrant what I did to you. All I can tell you is why it happened, and that I acknowledge it doesn’t excuse my behavior.”
“I know, Colleen.” Although, I had to admit, it did feel good to hear her say these things. For so long, I assumed she felt no guilt, had let the blame fall on me in my absence, so listening to her sorrowful admission wiped away any lingering resentment I’d had toward her.
“You were gone all the time. Even when you were here, you were gone. When we first got married, I didn’t think it would be a problem because that’s what our entire relationship had been like. We were in our early twenties, so I had the time and space to see my friends and go out. I didn’t have the responsibilities of dinner on the table when you got home from work, or cleaning up after someone else. I didn’t have to answer to anyone about where I was going or if I bought a new outfit. But somewhere along the way, I must’ve…matured some.”
I couldn’t contain the incredulous, huffed laugh.
“What I did wasn’t mature, and I’ll be the first to admit it,” she fought back, clearly defensive over my reaction. “But the things I wanted out of life had matured. This shouldn’t come as a surprise because we used to argue about it. I wanted a family, time with my husband…things normal adult couples had. Our friends had started to get married and have babies, and I was the single one in the group—except I wasn’t single. I just had a husband who was never around.”