Part 4
22.
Ollie
For a little while there, it had felt like I’d been on top of the world. Work was great, Wren was great, just having the freedom to go where you wanted, when you wanted, was great. I should have known. I should have known that things couldn’t stay like that for someone like me—maybe they shouldn’t. I didn’t deserve that sort of thing. It was too good to be true.
I just had to stay focused on my work, not think of anything else. Easier said than done.
For the first couple days, it actually wasn’t so bad; I could fool myself into believing that I was going to see Wren soon. But as the days approached a week, and then passed a week, I couldn’t deny the ache I felt at her absence.
I kept trying to tell myself that I’d done the right thing, that I’d put my responsibilities before my desire for good feelings. That was the thing—Wren made me feel good. Not only the sex, but just being around her.
It was too much of a distraction. She was too much of a distraction.
When I wasn’t working, I’d take Bebop out for long, slow rides down to the river. I’d let him graze while I sat in the tall grass and watched the water. Or I’d go for a walk, with no real destination in mind.
The one thing I did know, though, was the places I wasn’t to go—namely, her restaurant. Would she re-name it now? I didn’t even like driving into town and having to go by it, knowing she was probably in there.
When I went to visit Paula, I took the long way, so I wouldn’t have to drive by the restaurant. I hadn’t been planning to tell her what happened, but after a few minutes, she squinted at me and asked what the hell was wrong.
“You seem off,” she said. “You seem like something is terribly wrong.”
“Things are just . . . .” We were sitting on the porch and I looked off toward the front yard. “I broke up with my girlfriend.”
“Oh, yeah? Things not going so great?”
“It just got too hard.” That was the simple way to put it. I didn’t feel like getting into all the details, of re-living everything.
Paula was looking at me closely. “But you love her, I can tell. Don’t even bother trying to tell me I’m wrong.”
I was quiet.
“Did you ever wonder why Jackson wanted you to come over here and check up on me?” Paula asked.
“Not really,” I said. “I mean, he wanted me to make sure that you were all right. Being alone and everything.”
“I’m not alone though, is the thing. I’m still his wife.”
“I know you are, but he’s in there, and you’re out here . . .”
“He wanted me to leave him. And he was using you to try to facilitate that.”
I stared at her. “Huh?”
“He finally admitted to it, the last time I went to see him. I didn’t think he would actually cop to it, but he did. I’m not mad at him, of course.”
“I’m not following,” I said, shaking my head. What was she talking about?
“He thought I’d decide I wanted to get it on with you and that would be the end of us.”
“He wanted me to sleep with you?” I thought back to the day Jackson brought it up, the way he said he had trusted me. There was no way that he sent me out here to sleep with his wife. That was crazy.
“Of course he did!” Paula grinned. “Don’t look so shocked! A good-looking guy like you. It’s not because you’re unattractive.”
“Why on earth would your husband want me to sleep with you? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, you’re right, in a way. What he wants is for me to want you. Or anyone, for that matter, so long as it isn’t him. He doesn’t want to think of me out here, all alone, wasting away, which absolutely isn’t happening. I seem to be doing all right, wouldn’t you say?”
“Of course,” I said
quickly, though I didn’t really know. Was
she all right? I saw her a few times here and there, but I really had no way of
knowing what she did the rest of the time. What if after I left she was just
going to go inside, close the blinds, and not leave the house for two weeks?
What if she couldn’t sleep at night or went through the trouble of cooking a
meal but never actually ate it? “I mean, you would tell me if things weren’t
okay, wouldn’t you?”
She cracked a smile. “That sounds like something a friend would say. Or maybe a
social worker.”
“I guess I’m just a little confused about this whole thing. Jackson had always led me to believe that things were good between the two of you.”
“Oh, they are, he’s right about the that. He’s putting me before himself, you see. Because I’ve told him all along that I’ll stand by his side, that I’ll be here waiting for him when he gets out. If he gets out. Because I love him. And love isn’t just what happens when it’s easy or fun or you’re lucky enough to still be in the honeymoon stage. Love is what happens after all that shit leaves and the hard stuff starts. That’s what true love is—the hard shit.”
I watched two butterflies flutter across the lawn, one after the other, as though they were playing tag. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for it, then,” I said.
Paula gave me a level stare. “Isn’t that a shame.”