“Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery.”
—JANE AUSTEN
Some days Zoe found the idea of quitting school and running off to Africa totally appealing. Today was one of those days.
She so did not want to go back to school tomorrow.
A knock on her door made Zoe look up from her packing. “Enter at your own risk.”
Mom poked her head in and grinned. “This doesn’t look so bad.”
“Well, I’ve only been home a few days. Haven’t had enough time to mess it up.” The state of Zoe’s bedroom had always been a source of lively debate. Mom said that was the one good thing about Zoe being in college—she could actually see the rug in here.
Zoe zipped up her bag and heaved it off the bed. “I’m glad you guys talked me into waiting until tomorrow. It’s supposed to snow tonight.” She had planned to drive back this afternoon, but it got late and they decided with the unpredictable weather, it’d be better to drive in daylight. Mom and Dad were taking Adam back to school tomorrow, so they could all leave at the same time.
The memory of Adam in that hospital bed still kept her up nights. Other than losing Shelby, this had been one of the hardest things she’d gone through. She made a point of coming home as often as she could. She needed Adam to know she’d be there for him, and she needed to get past the guilt of not doing more when he’d called her that morning.
Zoe couldn’t bear to think what might have happened if they’d lost him. Couldn’t go there.
“I’m so thankful you’ve been able to be around on the weekends, Zo.” Mom read her mind as usual. Zoe grinned as Mom sat on the edge of the bed.
“Me too.” Zoe hated the weariness on her mother’s face. She looked so tired since coming back from the Berkshires. Dad wore that same beaten expression. Since bringing Adam home from the hospital, it was like they were all tiptoeing around each other, nobody knowing what to say.
“So, you ready to go back tomorrow?” Mom ran a hand over the wrinkles on the patchwork quilt she’d found at some quaint store years ago. Zoe rolled her eyes and they shared a smile. A glimmer of happiness lit Mom’s face, but it was gone too quickly.
When Zoe arrived home on Thursday night, she’d shrieked in delight at her mother’s new stylish shoulder-length bob. She’d lost some weight over the last few months and looked more like the pretty young mom Zoe remembered from her youth. If it weren’t for the shadows beneath her eyes . . .
“Zo . . . I wanted to ask you about Tim.” And there it was.
Zoe sighed. She’d known it would come up eventually. She sat on the other side of the bed and met Mom’s gaze. “We broke up.”
“When?” Mom didn’t look surprised. Zoe figured they’d known or at least assumed but hadn’t wanted to ask. Not with everything going on. And that was fine by her because she hadn’t wanted to talk about it.
Early-evening light flickered through the curtains. Everything in the room was exactly how she left it the summer she went off to Princeton. At some point she supposed they’d begin to clear things out, put everything into boxes and pack up her life. That day might come sooner than expected if Mom and Dad went through with the divorce.
Zoe pushed her hair behind her ears. “About a month ago.” She got off the bed and paced her spacious bedroom. She loved this room with its dormer windows and view of the garden and the fields beyond. Some days she missed being home with an aching loneliness. Other days, when she’d been home too long, she couldn’t wait to get back to school. Tonight she wasn’t sure how she felt. “I saw him with a girl and I overreacted. After that, I realized I didn’t really trust him. And I didn’t know what to do with that. Neither did he.”
“Oh, Zo.” Mom’s sigh wound around the room and sadness settled in her eyes.
Zoe’s tears warmed her cheeks. “He said it was nothing, that they were in a group, lab partners. Mom, the whole thing was so ridiculous . . . but all I could think was . . .” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and hesitated. Voicing her thoughts might be like throwing gasoline on an already burning fire.
“You thought he would turn out like your father.” Mom’s words were quiet, heavy with sorrow that made Zoe cry harder. She dropped to the bed again and Mom moved to sit beside her and took her in her arms.
“He said that. ‘I’m not your father, Zo . . .’ Yelled it at me, like I just didn’t get it. And maybe I didn’t. Maybe I wanted us to break up because somehow, deep down, I know I’m only going to get hurt anyway.”
“Zo. Don’t do that.” Mom smoothed Zoe’s hair and kissed her forehead. “You can’t spend your life being afraid that every man you meet will let you down. At some point you have to learn to trust again.”
“But he . . .” Words jammed together in her throat. “Mom, Daddy cheated on you. He broke your marriage vows. Will you ever get over that? Will you ever be able to trust him again? I don’t want to go through that with anyone. I’d rather stay single the rest of my life.”
“Oh, sweetie. You won’t always feel this way.” Mom gave a half smile, but her eyes still held the pain of what they’d been through. “People will let you down. Even the ones who aren’t supposed to.”
“And what do you do with that?” Zoe whispered.
“You love them anyway. And you pray that at some point you find the grace to forgive.” Mom sat back and took a breath. “I’ve learned something these past few months. We were made for relationships. You know that? Marriages and families are what hold us together, give life real meaning. And even when it all goes wrong or things happen that we just don’t know how to deal with, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try again. Even when it’s hard and it still hurts.”
Zoe sniffed back more tears. “Dad ruined everything. Some days I still hate him for that.”
“But things weren’t perfect, Zo. Things weren’t good between us.” Mom’s voice got quiet, trembled a little. “Hadn’t been for a long time. I had a lot of issues I needed to deal with. You know that. Don’t you?”
The past skittered across the room, and for a moment Zoe almost heard her sister’s laughter. She wished she could remember more about Shelby, but she did remember her laugh. Memories pulled her back to that summer four years after Shelby died, the summer she came home from camp and Mom wasn’t there.
She slid off the bed and fiddled with the framed photos on her dresser. The truth had marched into the room uninvited and demanded to be acknowledged.
“A couple of years ago I asked Daddy what happened that summer you were sick.” Zoe found the courage to face Mom again. “Things didn’t make a whole lot of sense in my mind. Why you weren’t here when we got home. Why you stayed away so long.”
“He told you.” Mom inhaled, a painful expression freezing her face.
“Why did you do it?” The question came out more like a wail. “Were we not enough for you? Not good enough?”
Silence followed. She had finally unwrapped years of unspoken thoughts. Unspeakable subjects Zoe always thought were best left alone.
Mom lowered her head and covered her face with her hands for a long moment. “I was in a bad place back then, Zo. Nothing made sense for me anymore. I wasn’t thinking rationally. I don’t know why I did it now. How I thought it would solve anything. How I could have ever imagined leaving you, putting you through that pain.”
“Adam doesn’t know.” Zoe met her mother’s anguished expression. “When you called to tell me what happened, that’s the first thing I thought of. You. All those years ago. How desperate you must have been. How desperate he was. I knew he was unhappy. I knew he wasn’t doing well at school. I should have said something to you and Dad. Maybe if I’d—”
“No!” Mom was beside her in an instant, her eyes flashing with an intensity that was almost frightening. “Do not blame yourself.” She ran a hand down Zoe’s wet cheek. “My darling, no. We’ve got to stop this. We’re all carrying around enough guilt to fill an entire container ship.”
Mom shook her head, her hair shining under the glow of the bedroom light. “What I did, what Adam did, what happened to Shelby, none of that was your fault, Zoe. Or Dad’s. We made our own choices. That’s all it is: bad choices and circumstances beyond our control.”
“Why is it so hard to move on?” Zoe held her elbows and hugged her arms tight. “I wish I could forget everything that’s happened the past year, but I can’t. This thing with Adam seems like the last straw. Why does our family have to be so messed up?”
A sound pulled her gaze away from Mom.
Dad stood in the doorway, looking like somebody had punched him in the stomach.
Zoe’s heart sank. Mom stared at him, too, and nobody spoke.
“I filled up your car.” He tossed her car keys from one hand to the other. “Checked the tires. You should be all set in the morning.” He placed the keys on the dresser and hesitated. Zoe had never seen him look so sad, so broken. It was like all the life had suddenly been sucked from him. He looked from her to Mom, let out his breath, and turned and left the room.
“Oh my gosh, he heard everything! I know he did.” Zoe stared at her mother in horror. “Should I go talk to him?”
Mom shook her head, pulled Zoe against her in a brief hug, and stood. “No. Let him be. When he’s ready to talk, he will. Why don’t you go find Adam and order a couple of pizzas for dinner?”
“Okay.” She pushed trembling hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, Mom. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Sweetheart, I know. And he knows that too. Part of facing up to the consequences of our choices is dealing with the fallout. I think Daddy is slowly starting to realize that.”
Mom shut the door and Zoe sank onto her bed, chest heaving.
Finally, her tears spent, she reached for her cell. And punched in Tim’s number.
We eat a quiet dinner. Poor Zoe. As if things weren’t bad enough. She has no idea what to say to Kevin. Neither do I. It’s been two weeks since we last talked about reconciling. I think he’s afraid to bring it up again. Or maybe he’s waiting for me to. And part of me is still afraid.
Tonight it’s Adam who keeps conversation going. He cracks corny jokes and talks about the trips we used to take and the time the new tent Kevin bought—he was so proud of the purchase—came crashing down on us in the middle of the night, startling campers and wildlife for miles as we all shrieked and hollered, tangled up in sleeping bags and canvas and laughter.
Zoe asks if Tim can come stay next weekend and we share a smile. Before Kevin and Adam came in to eat, she told me they’d talked, that she and Tim wanted to work things out. I’m happy for her.
Later, once I shove paper plates in the trash, wash cutlery and the salad bowl, I go in search of Kevin.
I know exactly where he’ll be.
I grab my coat and gloves, pull on my boots, and head out to the patio. The night is cold, starlit, and snowy. In typical New England fashion, Mother Nature has decided to give one last nod to winter, and there’s even talk of a blizzard heading our way this week.
Down the concrete steps, careful not to slip, I follow the path past the covered pool into the garden toward the methodical sound of metal making violent contact with wood.
He’s by the toolshed, the outside light illuminating the pile he’s created and the anguish on his face. He grips the handle of the axe, jaw set, eyes fixed on the task he’s determined to complete. Snow falls softly, landing on his windblown hair and blue wool sweater. On the other side of the shed, out of sight, there are piles and piles of wood.
Meticulously stacked monuments that pay homage to years of pain and anger and sorrow so deeply embedded in our souls but never shared.
I know this now.
I’ve learned more about Kevin in these months of being apart than I knew in a lifetime of living together.
Some people face their trials with drink. Others medicate with drugs or food or maxing out their credit cards or they gamble away the pain.
My husband chops wood.
I find an old abandoned lawn chair, wipe the snow off, sink into it, shove my hands deep into the pockets of my coat, and wait.