Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (2 page)

 2 

W
hat do you mean, she’s left me?” Jim said.

“I think you know what it means, Dad.”

“You mean like . . . for good? Like she’s ending our marriage?”

“I don’t know if it’s for good. My guess is it’s going to depend partly on what you do from here.”

“What
I
do from here?” he repeated. “Michele, this is crazy. How long have you known about this?” Jim started pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor.

“You mean how long have I known she’s been unhappy, or how long have I known she was planning to leave?”

“Don’t play games with me, young lady.”

“I’m not playing games, Dad. I know this is serious.”

“Darn right it’s serious. Where does your mother get off pulling a stunt like this?”

“It’s not a stunt.”

“You know what I mean.”

Michele didn’t reply. Jim walked over and opened the fridge, pulled out a glass pitcher of iced tea. “When did she tell you she was going to do this?”

“Last week some time. I think it was Thursday.”

He poured himself a glass and sat back on the bar stool by the granite counter. “You don’t think that was something you should have called me about?”

“No, I don’t. Look, I don’t want to get stuck in the middle of this thing between you two, but if I have to be on somebody’s side, I think you know whose side it’s going to be.”

Anger flared inside him, but he had to keep his cool. He needed more information. Michele and her mother had spent a lot of time together lately planning Michele’s wedding, and they’d always been close, but he never imagined they’d gang up on him like this. “So who is it?”

“What?”

“Who is your mother seeing? There must be someone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not seeing anyone else.”

“Do you know that for sure, Michele? Maybe she wouldn’t tell you something like that. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.” He thought he heard her laugh on the other end. “What?”

“You can’t think of any other reason why she’d leave you, Dad? Nothing comes to mind, nothing at all?”

“What are you talking about? No, I can’t. She’s got a gorgeous house, a nice car to drive. A huge closet full of clothes. Money’s a little tighter than usual these days, but we’re doing okay. We hardly ever argue.”

“Uh-huh . . . When was the last time you took her out?”

“What?”

“Took Mom out on a date. You know, even something simple like dinner and a movie.”

“I don’t know.”

“Right. When was the last time you took her for a walk, asked her questions, really listened to her? Even simple questions like how she was doing?”

“What are you talking about? You’re saying she left me because I don’t take her out on walks?”

Michele sighed audibly. “Look, Dad, I’m not going to be the mediator here. Your problems are way over my head. I love you, but . . . I’m just going to say it. I don’t have a hard time understanding why Mom walked out. Okay?”

Jim slid the bar stool away from the counter and stood. “She can’t just walk out. We’re both believers, for heaven’s sake! She doesn’t have biblical grounds for divorce.”

“Stop yelling at me, Dad.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Yeah, you are. And if you don’t calm down, I’m going to hang up.”

“Listen, Michele, I don’t know where you get off talking to me like this. Who do you think is paying your way through college? Who’s paying for that dorm room and your food tab?”

“That’s great, Dad. Real helpful.”

“Well, I don’t know. How did I become the bad guy here all of a sudden?”

“It didn’t just happen all of a sudden.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m talking about your problems with Mom.”

Jim was sure that’s not what she meant, but he let it drop. “Do you know where she is?”

“I do, but I also know she doesn’t want to see you. Not now. If you go over there, it’ll make things worse. I’m serious.”

“Where is she?” He said the words as calmly as he could.

“Look, I’ve got to go. She told me she wrote you a note, maybe it’s in there. I’d rather you just read that. I think it’s on your dresser.” She paused. “Really, Dad, I’ve got to go.”

“Michele, wait.”

“I love you. I do.” She hung up.

Jim walked into the living room and looked at the stone fireplace. It was all he could do not to throw his phone across the room. Instead, he took a deep breath and put it back in his pocket. He headed back to their bedroom in search of that note, reeling from the absurdity of his conversation with Michele.

How could Marilyn do this? You don’t just leave someone, not like this. Not after twenty-seven years of marriage. He’d given her everything a woman could want. A great house, a solid family, stability. He’d kept himself in great shape. He’d never been unfaithful to her. Not that he didn’t have opportunities; a number of women had come on to him over the years. But he never went there. Not once.

She better not have gone there, he thought. But he couldn’t think of anything else that made sense. On the way to his dresser, he walked past their large walk-in closet. Curiosity got the better of him, so he stopped to see if Marilyn’s clothes were gone. What he saw surprised him. Her clothes seemed to all be there, hanging where they’d always been. Dresses, blouses, sweaters. A teakwood rack full of shoes. Had she taken anything with her?

He walked across the room to his dresser. The note wasn’t sitting on top. He started opening the drawers, found it sitting on a stack of folded socks. He lifted it out and carried it to an upholstered chair in the corner, next to a long window that opened to the pool area. His first name was written across the front of a plain beige envelope.

He sat down and opened it.

Jim,

I’m sure this has come as a shock to you. That it has is only one more thing to add to my list of reasons for leav
ing. You don’t love me, I’m sure of that now. I think I’ve known it for years. You don’t care about me or the things I care about. You don’t even bother to try. You probably have no idea how many times in recent months I’ve tried to talk to you about how unhappy I am, how unhappy I’ve been. It goes right over your head.

I’ve dropped hint after hint, clue after clue. None of it gets past that hard shell of yours. There’s only room for one person in your life. Here’s another clue . . . it’s not me.

It all became clear to me last month at Margaret’s daughter’s wedding. I don’t want to get into all the reasons why here, but let’s just say by the time that wedding reception was over, I knew in my heart . . . I had to leave. If I’m ever going to find any measure of happiness in my life, before I’m too old to actually enjoy it, I have to go. Since that moment, I’ve just been biding my time, trying to work up the courage.

I also had to get some practical details together for this separation to work. And notice, I used the word “separation” here on purpose. At the moment, I’m not planning on divorcing you. I have no plans of “taking you to the cleaners” or ruining your precious financial life. In fact, I’m not making any long term plans at all. I just need some time away.

I need you to respect that. In fact, the worst thing you could do right now is to come after me and start pestering me to come home. I NEED this time away. I can honestly say, if you don’t respect my desire to have this time, it may be the one thing that would cause me to make this separation permanent.

I mean that . . . sincerely. Let me have this time. Don’t
call me, don’t come to where I’m living. It’s not far away (somewhere in River Oaks). I’ve taken just a small amount from our savings account. Just enough to get me set up for a few weeks. But I plan to be earning my own keep after that. I’ve gotten a job doing something you would never let me do, or even discuss.

I’ve asked Michele to be available for any necessary communication. Don’t be mad at her or make her feel guilty about any of this. She hasn’t done a thing to try to talk me into or out of this decision. By the way, I haven’t talked to Tom or Jean or Doug about this. Or anyone in the church. I’ll leave that to you (and I plan to be going to another church too).

I’m sorry for the hurt and anger I’m sure you already feel inside. But it can’t begin to compare to the mountain of hurt you’ve been piling up in my heart for more years than I can count.

Believe it or not, I do still love you and will be praying for God to somehow work this situation together for good (although at the moment, I can’t see how such a thing could be possible).

Marilyn

Jim let the pages fall in his lap. His face was hot with rage. He looked out the window then pulled out his phone. A moment later he was on the internet, logging into their bank account. He clicked on the drop-down menu to check the balance in their savings account.

He wondered, just how much did Marilyn consider a “small amount”?

 3 

M
arilyn Anderson was a woman unloved.

Sure, she had provision and stability. She felt protected for the most part. And as best she knew, there had always been faithfulness between them. But was that enough? Didn’t she have a right to feel loved? Could anyone say they were truly happy on any level that really mattered in a relationship without love?

She looked around the room. It was small, maybe twelve-by-twelve. What was that, less than 150 square feet? Marilyn smiled. Her Victorian dream house on Elderberry Lane was just over 3,000 square feet. She was lying on a double bed. At home, she and Jim shared a king-sized bed. Big enough to ensure they would never touch each other once through the night.

The space separating their hearts was infinitely wider than that.

She sat up and glanced around the room. None of the furniture was hers. All made of white painted pressboard, probably in China or some other Asian country. But the room was cute, nicely decorated in its own way. The walls a pleasing shade of green, with white trim around the windows and doors. Pink
flowers bloomed in a white vase on the dresser, cream-colored carpeting on the floor. It was cozy, but nothing she’d have ever thought to do in her home.

Her home, she thought. Had it ever really been her home? If so, was it still? It hadn’t felt like a home for over ten years, not since the kids were younger. She had come to realize that what Jesus said was true. The words ran quietly through her mind:
Man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.
She had a house full of them, two floors’ worth. Four bedrooms (five, considering the garage apartment), three-and-a-half baths. Living room, great room, formal dining room, and a dinette area almost as big. A kitchen large enough for a small restaurant. Jim’s home office that occupied the rounded corner room, a loft upstairs.

Every single room was filled with a collection of expensive furnishings, floor coverings, window treatments, and artwork. No decorating detail or accessory was too small. Guests would marvel when she took them on tours. She used to enjoy the jealousy it provoked, as if it were some kind of reward. It had taken her years to get every room just the way she wanted it. And then, she would sit in those rooms until the next church gathering or social event, feeling so lonely and empty inside, as if the house had been left to the ages, vacant and abandoned.

And in a way, it had been. Houses without love could never be homes.

Houses didn’t love you back, no matter how big they were. Fine hardwood furniture, antique oriental rugs, and top-of-the-line appliances couldn’t create or sustain joy. Marilyn felt more free and at peace here in this little apartment bedroom than she’d felt at Elderberry Lane in years. She looked around the room again. Nothing in this bedroom loved her either. But
nothing here reminded her of the gaping void she’d felt inside for so long.

It was clear to her now. In Jim’s world, life was all about goals, roles, reputation, and compartments. Marilyn’s compartment had shrunk to where it would fit in a box under this little double bed.

She heard a knock at the door.

“Marilyn, dinner’s ready. Heated up a Lean Cuisine for you. Sesame chicken. They really aren’t too bad.” It was her new “landlord,” Charlotte Rymes, talking through the door in her strong Boston accent.

“Be right out, thanks, Charlotte.” Lean Cuisine? she thought. But you know what? She didn’t have to cook, and there’d probably be almost nothing to clean up.

She got out of bed, feeling light as a feather. Her future was totally uncertain, but she didn’t care. She was about to eat some prefabbed sesame chicken, tomorrow she’d start her new job at Odds-n-Ends, and she was living with a boisterous single woman who was as sweet and kind as she could be. The thick cloud of heaviness and oppression Marilyn had felt constantly at Elderberry Lane was gone.

“Have a seat, Marilyn. I’ll bring it right out.” Charlotte had just changed out of her scrubs. She was a nurse at the River Oaks Urgent Care Center a few blocks away on Oakwood Lane, one of the main roads that ran through town. “Sometimes these things are wicked hot when they come out of the microwave. They’ll burn your mouth worse than pizza, so watch it.”

Marilyn sat down.

“Sesame chicken’s my favorite, but I’ve found four or five others that are pretty good.”

“Smells delicious.”

Charlotte set trays of food on two plates, one on each side of a small dinette table. “You like iced tea? I make it with lemon, but I didn’t add any sugar. I’ve got sugar and Splenda packets there in the bowl. Figured that way we can each make our glass as sweet as we want.”

“Iced tea would be great. How’d your day go?”

“’Bout the same as usual.” She sat down. “No big surprises. A few cuts that needed stitches, some moms bringing their kids in, swearing they need antibiotics. The usual. Okay if I say the blessing?”

“Sure.” After Charlotte prayed, Marilyn took a few cautious bites. She had met Charlotte a few weeks ago while shopping at Odds-n-Ends, the little retail gift shop on Main Street. She’d overheard her talking to the cashier; apparently they both attended a church that had begun to meet in the local high school. Charlotte mentioned she was looking for a tenant to help her share the rent in her apartment. All the shops in the downtown area had apartments on the floor above, with cute balconies that overlooked the street. The view was actually quite nice; the whole downtown area was adorable, like an extension of Main Street at Disney World.

After swallowing a few bites, Charlotte said, “Are you doing okay, hon? How’s your heart doing? Today was the big day, wasn’t it?”

Marilyn nodded and continued to chew.

“How’d he take it? You know, your hubby?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I wrote him a note.”

“Smart,” she said. “No sense having a big confrontation. I’m guessing he’s not much of a listener anyway.”

“That’s why I wrote a note,” Marilyn said. “That and I’m a total chicken.”

Charlotte smiled, took another bite. Still chewing, she said, “Well, listen, you tell me as much or as little as you want. We’re about the same age, you and me. I got divorced over fifteen years ago, but I still remember how it felt. You wanna talk, I’m here. You just want a friend who knows when to shut up, I can be that too.”

“Well, I’m not thinking divorce at the moment.”

“No? Sorry, I just assumed.”

“I suppose it could come to that.”

“Just needing a little time and space then?”

“That’s a good way to put it.” Marilyn ate another forkful of sesame chicken. It was actually quite good. After swallowing, she said, “I really appreciate you taking me in on a month-to-month basis. I’m sure you’d rather have a longer commitment. But I’m just not sure where things—”

“Don’t worry about it, take as long as you need. A month, two, three. I don’t wanna rush you. You got enough to worry about with what you’re going through.”

“Thanks, Charlotte, that’s very kind of you.”

“How your kids handling this? They’re older, right?”

She nodded. “My youngest will be a senior in high school when school starts again. My oldest is married with two kids. Both boys. I haven’t told them yet, just my daughter Michele. She’s goes to a college in Lakeland. She’s getting married at the end of September.”

“September? Won’t she be in school?”

“She wanted the wedding to be on the exact date Allan proposed a year ago.”

“Is this . . . this thing you’re going through gonna mess things up? I never planned a wedding before, but I watched my friend up north almost go nuts planning one.”

“I hope not. Michele says we’ll be fine. But clearly, I didn’t pick the best time to—”

“Honey, there’s never a good time for something like this.”

Marilyn sighed. “Guess that’s true.”

“Well, don’t worry. Let’s talk about something else. You looking forward to your new job? Starts tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I am. I haven’t worked—well, outside the house—in forever. So I’m a little nervous.”

“A stay at home mom,” Charlotte said. “Not too many of you left on the planet these days. I never got the chance. My ex left me with nothing, so I worked while my boy Eddie was growing up. He turned out all right, though.”

“Does he live here?”

“No, he’s still back home. Finishing up school at Boston College. He’s planning on coming down here in December when he graduates. That’s one of the reasons I’m not too concerned about you signing a long-term lease.”

“December, that’s when my Michele graduates.”

“That’ll make for a nice Christmas.”

A sinking feeling came over Marilyn. Christmas. What would her life be like by then? Where would she be living? What would—no! She couldn’t think about such things now; it would only lead to trouble. “I’m really proud of Michele,” Marilyn said. “And I love Allan, the guy she’s marrying. He’s a really nice guy.”

Marilyn’s cell phone rang. She could barely hear it coming from the bedroom. She looked at her watch. Jim would definitely be home now. She hoped it wasn’t him. “Excuse me, sounds like someone’s texting me.” She got up from the table and headed for the bedroom.

She lifted her phone out of her purse, almost dreading to look at the screen.

But she did, then sighed in relief. It was from Michele.

Just two words.

He knows.