A Mile in My Flip-Flops (16 page)

“Have whatever you like,” I tell him. “Remember, it’s on me.”

“I’ve been fantasizing about cheeseburgers for the past couple of hours.”

“Maybe you should order two.”

“Or maybe I’ll just go for the half pounder.”

“That sounds like a lot of red meat.”

He nods eagerly. “It does, doesn’t it?”

As it turns out, he orders the half pounder with fries and a large chocolate shake. I follow suit, only I order the regular cheeseburger and a regular chocolate shake. “I probably shouldn’t have the shake,” I admit after Caroline leaves with our order. “I gave up ice cream a few weeks ago. But I just don’t think I could sit here and watch you drink one without having serious chocolate envy.”

“You gave up ice cream?” he asks with a worried look.

“Well, it was kind of an addiction,” I admit. “Not a very healthy one either.”

“There are worse things than ice cream,” he points out.

“Maybe for other people, but for me it was a pretty dangerous obsession with some form of very rich Ben
&
Jerry’s chocolate ice cream and HGTV.”

He laughs. “I think that sounds like a pretty good combination.”

“It served me well for a while,” I admit. “But then I switched ice cream for low-fat, sugar-free frozen yogurt, and HGTV for my very own house project. And you know what, Im not even sorry.” Now I look evenly across the table at Noah. “But you’ve got me talking about me, and the deal was I would buy dinner if you would tell me a story, remember?”

He nods as Caroline sets the shakes in front of us. “Yup, but not until I get a nice long sip of this baby.”

M
y name is Noah Campbell, and I am a recovering workaholic,” he confesses somberly. Then he pauses to take a second long drag on his straw, decreasing the height of his milkshake by another full inch. I hope he doesn’t get brain freeze. But I keep my concerns to myself and simply nod as I wait for him to continue what’s starting out as an interesting story. I never would’ve guessed this laid-back guy was a workaholic.

He goes on to tell me that he started working with his dad’s construction company in his teens, earning enough money to buy a car … and then a motorcycle. “But construction was hard work,” he admits. “So when I got to college, I decided there were easier ways to make a buck. So a buddy and I started up this little software company.” He shrugs apologetically. “I guess it was just the thing to do back then, back in the early nineties. But for some unexplainable reason, our company actually took off.”

“That must’ve been cool.”

“Yeah, it actually was pretty cool … at first. It seemed our future was launched even before we graduated from college. Of course, my dad was disappointed because he’d been hoping I’d come home and go into construction with him full-time, handling the business end of things … and then, like I told you, he died.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah, I blamed myself for a while. It seemed like the good son would’ve taken over the family business for the sake of his parents, you know? But the software company was just coming into it’s own right then, and I knew I couldn’t do both. Not successfully.”

“So you continued with the software?”

He nods and takes another long sip of his shake. “I made the selfish choice.”

“You chose what seemed right to you. I’m sure your dad would’ve understood.”

“Maybe… Anyway, Daniel—my partner—and I set up an office in Seattle. Pretty predictable, huh? Just like everyone else was doing at the time. But we worked hard and smart, and things just kept getting better, and the business grew. Of course, to keep that ball rolling, or maybe we were just chasing after it, we both put in really long hours. We worked weekends, and lots of times, if something big was going on, we’d work 24/7. It got to the point that we often spent nights at the office. There were a couple of leather couches and a little kitchen and bathroom. So work was pretty much my entire life back then.”

I shake my head. “It’s hard to imagine that. I can’t quite picture you in the three-piece suit and the executive office and—”

“It wasn’t so much like that. We were fairly casual … unless we did a presentation, say to an Asian company. That’s when the Armani would come out, and we’d shine our shoes.”

As our cheeseburger baskets arrive, he continues about how the software business took on a life of it’s own and ultimately controlled him. Finally, I encourage him to take a break and enjoy some of this
food, which is fantastic. He does and then gradually returns to his story; it’s as if something is compelling him to get the whole thing out.

“Anyway, just as things were taking off for us, while we were the toast of the town, I started dating Camille. It seemed to go with the territory.”

“How’s that?”

“She was this gorgeous fashion model with expensive taste, and I was the computer-geek whiz kid on his way to making his first million.”

“Really?” I want to point out that he’s not exactly a “geek” but don’t.

“Well, that was the plan.” He laughs as he shakes the bottle of ketchup onto his fries. “Before long, we were just one more predictable component of the Seattle scene.”

“And then you got married?” Okay, as soon as I ask this, I wish I hadn’t. Why not just let him tell the story? But he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yep. That was almost ten years ago now. I had just turned thirty, and we’d been going out for a couple of years, and Camille had started pushing for an engagement ring. Her friends were starting to get married, and she got caught up in the whole wedding thing. Eventually, it seemed like the easiest thing was to agree. And to be honest, I was so caught up in the business that I liked the idea of having someone at home, making the place nice, cooking good meals.” He chuckles. “All those bachelor illusions of what married life might be.”

He pauses to take another big bite of his burger, and I wait for him to chew, swallow, and continue. I’d ask another question, but it
would probably sound stupid, and it seems like he’s already telling me way more than I imagined he would. And I must admit, Im finding it rather intriguing. It’s like a whole different Noah Campbell.

“And, man, was that some wedding,” he continues. “Camille’s parents were pretty wealthy, but they had good friends who were megamillionaires with this incredible estate on Fox Island and no kids of their own. Anyway, they offered to host the ceremony, and Camille went all out. People were talking about that wedding for…” He laughs now. “Well, at least a couple of weeks.” Then his expression gets serious. “The talk probably died down about the same time the honeymoon ended.”

“You guys honeymooned for two weeks?”

“Actually, we didn’t even take a honeymoon. But that was mostly my fault. I was too consumed with the business, and we were landing a big account just then. And, of course, Camille wanted us to be rich. Very rich. So she agreed to postpone the honeymoon and—” He stops abruptly. “I can’t believe Im telling you all this, Gretchen. Am I boring you to tears yet?”

“Not yet.” I smile.

“Honestly, I don’t usually go into all this detail about my past, but I think maybe I’m feeling slightly intoxicated just now.”

Feeling uncomfortable, I suddenly wonder if he means me. Can he possibly find me intoxicating?

“I suppose that sounded weird,” he admits. “I mean, this food. Aren’t these cheeseburgers incredible?”

I nod with what I decide is relief. “They’re fantastic.”

“So, anyway, about a year into the marriage, I realized we were in serious trouble. Camille wanted me to make more money, but she
also wanted more of my time. I didn’t know how to give her both. I was still working those long hours and still sleeping at the office a lot. Probably even more than was necessary. Because when I did make it home, it never seemed to be the sweet marital bliss that I’d imagined.” He waves his hand as if to erase that. “I won’t go into all the details, and I do take the blame for how our relationship deteriorated. I can’t really blame Camille for having a packed social life since I sure wasn’t giving her the time and attention she needed. But we just kept growing further apart. We hadn’t even been married two years when I realized our marriage was doomed. But then Camille got pregnant.”

“Kirsten.”

“Yes. But at the time Camille didn’t want to have a baby, didn’t want to ruin her figure or her social life. She even talked about an abortion. But I told her I would leave her if she did. It was a real standoff for a while. But finally she seemed to change. I thought maybe it was those maternal hormones kicking in, and I began to feel hopeful. She got caught up in planning for the baby and started ordering things for a nursery. In the usual Camille style, it was way over the top, but I didn’t care. I thought this might be our chance for happiness. I promised to start taking more time off from work. And for a while, I did. But then Kirsten came along, and things got hectic, and I returned to my workaholic ways. The business obsessed me. Even when I wasn’t at work, my mind was at work. It was very unhealthy.”

“And hard on your relationship.” Okay, I’m trying to understand this guy, but it’s not exactly easy. Also, I wonder why he wants to tell me all this. Even more than that, I wonder why I’m so eager to hear it.

“Yes, that’s why I really do blame myself for how things went.” He dips a fry in ketchup and sadly shakes his head. “At Kirstens third birthday party, which was quite an event with pony rides and a clown and magician—the works—Camille told me that she was leaving me and taking Kirsten with her.”

“That night, after I tucked Kirsten in bed, imagining how empty my life would be without my little princess, I begged Camille to rethink her decision. I promised that I would change, that we would change. I even suggested we get counseling. To be fair, I wasn’t fighting as much for Camille as I was for Kirsten. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my daughter. And Camille had already told me that she wanted to relocate to San Diego. She said that she was tired of the Seattle rain, that it depressed her.”

“I’ve heard it can be pretty dreary,” I admit.

“It takes it’s toll on some.”

“So is that why you moved down here?”

“Sort of. But first I sold my share of the software business to Daniel. He got a great deal, but the timing wasn’t the best for me, because I still was so invested in the business development. Even so, I didn’t care. I knew I couldn’t put off that decision for another day. I finally grasped that having a family, being with my daughter, was worth more than anything. It’s like I woke up and suddenly realized that life wasn’t just about making money. If I had to be home 24/7 to make my marriage work, to be a better dad, I would do it.”

“But it still didn’t work?”

He laughs, but it’s a sad laugh. “Camille wasn’t pleased at all. She thought selling my share of the business was a huge mistake. And as it turned out, she was already involved with someone else.”

“Wow.” I’m not sure how to respond, but I feel a genuine pang of sympathy for him now. Even so, why he did he marry a woman like that? Gorgeous or not, she sounds like a real witch. “What did you do?”

“Well, I finally had time on my hands. At first I got depressed, questioning everything about myself, about life, about God. Then I did some deep soul searching. And I borrowed a friend’s boat and did some sailing. I also spent a lot of time with Kirsten. I felt like I was really getting to know her. Before she had seemed like a baby, but suddenly she was this little person, with her own thoughts and opinions and an interest in everything.”

“That is a fun age.”

“And eventually I returned to the faith I’d been raised with. I realized I couldn’t make it on my own, and I really pursued a relationship with God. For the first time in years, I started to experience real peace. That’s when I started to rearrange my priorities. I decided that I want to live the rest of my life totally differently.”

“Was that when you started doing carpentry?”

“I realized it was something I had loved doing. I think because carpentry was so logical, sort of mathematical and predictable. I liked that. I’d rebelled against it in college, but the truth was, I liked making things with my hands. I liked the feel of wood, taking something rough and transforming it into something beautiful and useful. So I got a few tools and started messing around with it again. My dad had taught me a lot, and much of it came back to me.”

“So did you get a job then? Or start your own construction company?”

“I didn’t have that level of confidence yet. Also, I wasn’t ready for
my own business again. So I took a couple of classes at the community college, but I quickly realized that I knew as much as, maybe even more than, some of my instructors. After that I bought some good tools and just started building things.”

“And what happened with Camille?”

“Shortly after the divorce was final, she married Peter, the stockbroker she’d been involved with. And they made plans to move down to San Diego.”

“And that’s why you came down here?”

“I could’ve stopped Camille. According to the custody agreement, she wasn’t supposed to remove Kirsten from the state. But by then I’d had time to rethink a lot of things—my own selfishness and being a poor excuse for a husband and a workaholic to boot. Finally I gave in. I told Camille that she could move down here but that I would move too, and we would continue to share custody of Kirsten, and hopefully our daughter’s life wouldn’t suffer too much due to her parents’ immaturity.”

“Kirsten seems like a very well-grounded seven-year-old.”

He smiles now. “She is wonderful, isn’t she?”

“Very mature for her age.”

“Unfortunately, I think divorce does that to kids—forces them to grow up too soon.”

I consider this, thinking that the death of a parent isn’t so different when you’re still a kid, but I don’t mention it. This is his story, not mine.

“Shortly after we got settled down here, my mom missed Kirsten and me so much that I encouraged her to move down as well.”

“Ah, yes. And I hear that she’s friends with Betty.”

“Yes, they’re neighbors in the same condo unit.” He chuckles. “When I started working for your dad, I thought maybe he and Mom might hit it off. He sort of reminded me of my own dad, but while your dad and my mom are good friends, there’s no spark.”

“No spark…” I smile. “Well, fortunately there seems to be some spark with Betty. Dad was so happy to hear from her today. Her call was good medicine.”

We both seem to be finished eating. All his food has vanished, and although I still have fries and some shake left, I’m stuffed.

“I guess I told you all that because I wanted to encourage you. My story proves that it’s true what they say: God really does work in mysterious ways, and I know that’s going to wind up true with your house flip too. I could tell you were starting to feel overwhelmed back at the house, and I wanted to say that things will work out, in whatever way is best from God’s perspective. It was only after going through all that hard stuff—my job, my marriage, the possibility of losing my daughter—that I learned how to let go of things…and just trust God. Does that make any sense?”