The Choice Not Taken (7 page)

Knowledge became my new obsession, and I over-loaded on courses to spend more time with it. As expected, my zealous approach to learning led to perfect scores and an early graduation.

I had little problem finding a layout job in a local advertising firm. And when they informed me I needed to learn a new software program for graphic design, my childhood friend, Marnie, suggested the IT company at which she’d recently been hired.

Located an hour to the east, she worked there as a junior salesperson selling hardware, software, and installation services. Apparently, they also housed a top-notch training facility specializing in all ranges of computer programming and development. I signed up for a course scheduled the following week.

BLIP!

Though I recognized the sound of a text delivered to my cell phone, I looked around the wayside in question.

Philip.

BLIP!

Another text. Now thoroughly confused, I stared dumbly at my phone.

Alex.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I scrolled down to see the message.

“
ETA
?” it read.

“
At mall. Home by 5
,” I typed.

I opened the next one. It, too, was from Alex.

“
Forgot to tell you XOXOXOXOXO
.”

“
Ditto
,” I automatically replied.

With nothing to alleviate my festering anxiety, I quickly stood and began pacing the small path circling the pond. My face blushed with shame and though the feeling wasn’t anything new to me, the association of it with Alex was foreign.

The silent pain over Philip’s passing forced me to relive a part of life, which had been long forgotten. And as I became tempted to remember, the debilitating grief I experienced with each rude memory of another man caused me to feel I was betraying my own husband.

***

When I exited that software classroom for morning break-so many years ago-and passed
him
in the hallway, I literally stopped, turned, and gawked like an idiot.

It couldn’t be him
! I doubted.

Yet deep inside I knew it was the man from the airport.

I eagerly waited for the rest of the session to end so I could pry more information from Marnie. But once we sat down for lunch, she unrelentingly grilled me about the class.

“Do you think Carl is a good teacher?” she peered beneath her eyelashes. I really possessed no opinion, but I could tell she liked him so I answered with a mollifying yes.

“Don’t you think he has a cute accent? He’s from one of the Virginia states, I think. I can’t remember which one, but every time he opens his mouth, it makes me...oh, I don’t know...smile!” She dipped a French fry in tartar sauce, and I suppressed a gag.

“He does seem nice,” was my distracted reply. “Um, what time do you get done again? Carl said class will wrap up by four-thirty.” We planned to stop by our favorite clothing store together before I made the drive home.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she paused, “but Carl and the others are attending a going-away party for one of the technicians. And,” another pause as she sipped diet soda, “I’d really like to go. You should come, too, Courtney! There are a lot of cute young guys in IT, you know...” her voice trailed off once she realized what she’d said.

“I don’t think so. It’s okay if you wanna go, though. I’ll just head home. We can shop another time,” I assured.

After eating our sandwiches in silence, she finally spoke up.

“Courtney. You don’t have to worry about the guys here. I mean, honestly, most of them are like our friends from high school. You know, immature and goofy-more like brothers. Aside from Carl, of course,” she added with an excited giggle.

“It just doesn’t sound like my type of thing,” I began. But then all at once, I thought of the man in the hall and found myself saying yes.

“Seriously?” Marnie was incredulous.

“Seriously. Now stop looking at me before I change my mind,” I threatened.

The afternoon session was spent two ways: part trying to uncover what Marnie saw in this guy Carl, and part wondering why I hoped to see that strange man again. He meant nothing to me, and confirming whether he was the same person from the airport served no useful purpose.

Yet, I still wanted to know.

Effectively sweating from my impromptu workout around the pond, I veered toward the beverage machines for a water. And upon checking the clock on my phone, I realized I had to go home. With still another forty-five minutes to drive, I prayed it would be ample time to get back into mommy and wife mode.

spark

“Mom!” Mitch and Sylvie simultaneously shouted once I walked through the door. They were perched at the counter island with hands lost somewhere deep inside ceramic mixing bowls.

“Hello, my sweets,” I smiled while gingerly weaving around Rosie’s prancing body. Embracing each child from behind, I kissed their hair and inhaled fresh air and wet grass.

“You’ve been outside,” I declared while sneaking a glance around the kitchen. The disaster of Chef Dad wasn’t as anticipated. Instead of complete and total chaos, I happily found dinner ingredients and other groceries scattered by the cutting board and a couple drying dishes in the sink.

“Yeah,” Sylvie wheezed. “We spent all day clearing up the lawn and then playing croquet in the backyard!” I could tell by her voice she’d caught a cold from the damp spring air, which sadly was the norm for her when the seasons changed.

“Dad won,” Mitch informed me, his brow wrinkled in serious concentration over whatever was in the bowl. I peered down to see the makings of homemade pizza crusts.

“Of course Dad won,” Alex verified to my back. “Dad is the all...time...croquet...champion!” he grunted and then held his hands above his head while doing a victory lap around the island.

“Mom usually kicks your butt,” Mitch reminded dryly, and I again marveled at how my baby became such an intelligent and funny boy.

“Only because I let her,” Alex insisted before pulling me in his arms. “Missed you,” he whispered against wisps of my hair.

I hugged him back, tightly, and said I missed him, too.

And I did. I missed it all–the space in his muscular arms, the smell of my kids, the sounds of the house. I missed it all. Despite being gone two days, it somehow felt like so many more.

“Who wants a Pineapple Express?” Alex cheerfully asked.

“Ewww. Dad, you know I only want cheese on my pizza,” Sylvie howled in an exasperated tone.

“I do! And extra ham on mine, too,” Mitch chimed.

While the kids bickered over toppings, I left Alex to play referee so I could unpack and change clothes.

After each of us created our own pizza, Alex baked them on handcrafted stones–a birthday gift from the kids. Dinner was eaten on stools casually propped against the island while we caught up on the past few days. Before long, a great debate ensued over whether to play games or watch movies. Following a family vote, movies won.

Even in my place of comfort, an underlying discontent soon returned, and I devised a strategy to discreetly organize the rooms I feared were neglected in my absence.

“I’m going to gather laundry and start a load,” I told Alex nonchalantly. “Go ahead and start one of the movies.”

He stared at me, puzzled.

“But you love movie night. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

To disguise my behavior, I promised it would take a half-hour–no more–and to start one I’d seen before so I wouldn’t miss anything important. He reluctantly complied, joining the kids in the great room with heaping bowls of popcorn tucked in his arms.

Now on a self-imposed clock, my panic escalated. I typically performed this ritual in a slow, methodical manner to be positive I got each room done completely. Being rushed only left me to wonder if I was thorough enough and often meant I ended up reviewing the very same things I’d just checked.

But I needed a fix, so I moved through rooms with hurried precision, straightening items on shelves, smoothing bed-covers, putting things in their proper place, and gathering dirty clothes as I went. When I finished with one space, I completed a final scan of the room to be sure everything was in order before going onto the next.

After forty-five minutes, I merrily joined Alex on the couch. Mitch and Sylvie were flopped in their monogrammed, denim-covered beanbag chairs, still munching on endless bowls of popcorn.

“Mom,” Mitch chided over his shoulder, “you missed half the movie already!”

“Sorry. But I’ve seen this one four times so I think I can catch up,” I declared.

Leaning tiredly against Alex’s side, he gently pulled his fingertips through my hair. “Everything okay?” he asked.

I nodded and snuggled closer, hoping to hide my face. Thankfully, Mitch flipped the light-switch, and we spent the rest of the night watching movies in a now-darkened room. Sylvie fell asleep halfway through the double-feature, forcing Alex to hoist her growing body into his arms and carry her to bed.

He tucked them in while I tossed another load of laundry in to wash. Entering the unlit kitchen just as Alex came around the corner, we bumped into each other, and the folded laundry in the basket I was holding tumbled onto the hardwood floor.

“Damn it, Alex!” I yelled.

“I’m sorry Court,” he apologized. “I was checking to see if you needed any help.”

“Well I do now,” I spat sarcastically.

He helped scoop up the crumpled towels, socks, and clothes and began folding them on the kitchen table. After holding my breath, I finally stopped him before he reached for another towel.

“I’m sorry I yelled, Alex. But I can do these. Why don’t you get to bed, and I’ll be there in a few minutes?”

“No worries, Hon, I can help-then we can both go to sleep,” he offered.

He was doing them all wrong! Leaving loose folds rather than the tight corners I liked. Mismatching socks. And folding things, which needed to be hung in the closet. I gripped my palm around his forearm to prevent him from going any further.

“Just let me do it, okay?” I quietly begged.

Alex silently placed the item in his hand upon the table, nodded, and walked in the direction of our bedroom. When I entered the dark room a few minutes later, he was already under the covers. After dressing for bed, I joined him, and he rolled over, embracing me from behind.

“Are you alright, Court?” he whispered, nuzzling his nose along my neck and shoulders.

“I told you I was fine, Alex. It’s just the stress of my last deadline and running around for the yard sale got to me a little,” I told him.

“You’ve handled those kind of things before with no problem. Is there something more?” he pried.

“No. That’s all,” I lied, painting yet another layer upon my already shamed body.

“You’ll tell me if it’s something more, right?” he begged as he stroked the curve around my hip bone.

“Of course, Alex. You know I would.” Another lie, and I moved to face him before either of us could go any further. “Um, Honey? Do you think maybe we could just snuggle tonight?” I asked sweetly.

“Anything you want,” he replied and cradled me inside the crook of his right arm. “Anything you want.”

Within minutes he fell asleep. And for the entire night, I remained still against Alex’s relaxed body while vague memories of Philip filled my head and his ghostly image haunted my dreams.

***

Marnie and I weren’t even at that company party for five minutes before I wanted to leave. Uncomfortable in any such setting, my social ineptness was only highlighted by the manner in which others laughed and chatted with familiar ease.

Dimmed lights throughout the massive room allotted for some privacy, and I followed too closely behind my friend as she walked about. Every time we came upon someone she knew, she’d graciously introduce me. Once the greetings were over, however, I’d stand there, mute, until invited into the conversation or we moved on.

At least the bar was inviting and watching the activity around it provided a form of distracted entertainment. Its large oval shape centered the room, allowing customers to sit along every inch of its upholstered edge. And the wait-staff worked inside a sunken floor so the leather chairs ringing the perimeter allowed patrons to sit at a relaxing level.

Low lanterns lounged above drinks and huddled heads while textured hues of plum and burgundy stripes draped the walls. The outside of the space was lined with tall tables and bar-stools, and it appeared as if many of Marnie’s co-workers filled every available seat. Without any windows, a lack of natural light made it difficult to discern the faces of even those who sat a mere few feet away.

Once I became brave enough to venture to the restroom on my own, Marnie signaled where she’d be seated so I might find my way back against the emerging sea of people. I was just crossing the hostess area and returning to the bar when a loud cheer erupted in the room.