CHAPTER 13

Mom

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I FIND MY COURAGE somewhere in the Lucky’s parking lot with a trunk full of groceries. In that hollow silence of the car, alone with my fear, I’m forced to decide. Things can’t keep on like this forever. I need some finality. Mostly I need to be free of the guilt I have for not going back. I’m done being a coward hiding behind the possibility of returning.

My cell phone waits for me in the cup holder. I pick it up and dial, clearing my throat so I don’t sound weak. This should be easy. He hasn’t called. He doesn’t care. Just cut the loss and be done.

Only it’s a thick rope to cut. Layers of time have bound us together. But people change. He’s changed. And my life has become a dark place for dreams to collect like cobwebs.

“Yello.”

I don’t speak, but he knows the sound of my breath.

“Rachel?”

I don’t know what I’m expecting. For him to answer drunk off his ass, maybe. But his voice is soft, almost desperate.

I stay silent.

“I can’t lose my family, Rachel. I can’t lose you. I’m sorry,” he whispers. “We can work this out.”

He’s right. We can work this out. I live to forgive, to concede, to sacrifice everything I am on the off chance he’ll be happy. But he won’t. I won’t.

“Is that what you really want, Steve?”

“Yes!” he pleads. “I’m sorry. I should have called, but I was just so mad, and then I thought, maybe I’d already lost you. I thought...” His voice begins to waver, and I can hear the sniffling sound of tears. In seventeen years of marriage I’ve never seen his striking blue eyes gloss over with regret. I can’t believe it. He told me I was lucky to have him, that I was too fat and ugly. He said he’d want a divorce if he could afford it. The man who made me feel worthless innumerable times is crying to me that he doesn’t want to lose it all.

It would be so easy to give in to his tears. To take him back and say it’ll all be okay, but it won’t. I’ve found a strength in myself that I didn’t know existed anymore. I’m not going to stay broken any longer.

“Look, I know you’re upset and this whole thing has been a shock to us both, but you know our marriage isn’t working, and we need to stop pretending it will. I’m miserable, and so are you. You’ve always felt resentful of me and the kids. We kept you from having the life you wanted. I took you from your houseboat on the bay and forced you to come to Massack, settle down and become a father. I knew what your dreams were, and I ignored them. Just like you didn’t support mine. This is your chance to start over again, and mine too. We need to get a divorce.”

There, I said it. The dreaded word...divorce.

A silent tear fell from my cheek, not because I didn’t want this, but because I felt sorry for him. “You know this is the right thing to do. We can’t stay together anymore. I’m not the person you want. You want me to be someone I’m not. I’m still that city girl with dreams of the stage. The student you met in San Francisco. I can’t believe I’ve played the country wife for so long. I can’t go back to that. I’m finally finding myself again.”

“Is this what you really want?” He waits for me to answer, but I don’t. He already knows. “I guess you’re right. Things haven’t been good for a long time.”

His words surprise me. I was sure I’d have to fight my way out from under him.

“Thanks for understanding.”

He scoffs. “So I guess you’re just going to keep the kids then?” his tone darkens a little.

“Well, school starts next month. I don’t think they should go back and forth—”

“You know what. Fine. Just take them. You’re right. I want a chance to start over, too. Just go.”

And there it is, the Steve I know, creating conflict over something he doesn’t really care about just for the fight. Guilt is our dance, our game. He doesn’t want the kids. He just wants me to feel bad.

“Steve.” I sigh. “You’ve never played any part in taking care of the girls. Now you suddenly want them to live with you?”

“You don’t really care what I want anyway. Just do what you’re going to do.”

“Okay,” I say, wanting to put an end to the conversation. “I’m going back to school. I need to finish what I started and find me again. I’m taking the girls to LA. I applied to school a while ago, just to see if I’d get accepted and I did. I think you should pay child support and help with the kids.”

“Forget it. Find a lawyer and try it,” he tells me. “Besides, even if I did give you money, you wouldn’t last a month in LA. You’ll come crawling back to me, and I won’t save you.”

“So you’re not going to pay child support?”

“We’ll see what happens with the kids. Just do whatever you need to do. And, no, I won’t pay for your trip to LA, but I won’t hold you back either. We’ve been through a lot, and I guess I saw this coming. Take care of them. You may not have been a perfect wife, but you’re a good mom, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks,” I say, genuinely accepting his backhanded compliment like long-awaited praise.

“Bye, Rachel.”

I hang up the phone with a fresh feeling of possibility. It feels strange to not be upset, sad, or angry. Seventeen years of marriage deserves some tears. Instead I’m elated. He just handed me my freedom.