Authors: Katherine Owen
Not To Us (28 page)
“Then, when he wasn’t able to find you,” she says with hesitation, nervously licking her lips. “Well he’s just been falling apart. Robert and I are so worried about him. He’s so angry, so despondent. He sees his patients three days a week, but we don’t really know what’s happening with him. He doesn’t answer the phone half the time when we call.”
“I can’t go home,” I say in a broken voice.
“No, no. You have to! He needs you.”
“I don’t need him,” I say with contempt. “He’s been with you, Carrie. He must still love you.”
“No, it’s not like that,” she says, anxious all at once. “Look, Ellie. He loves you so much. Being without you is destroying him, the best part of him. Ellie he loves you. He’s always loved you. Don’t fuck up your life because you’re angry with me; work it out with him. You have to.”
“Why? Because you need it to work out with Bobby? And, if he found out about you and Michael…” I shake my head. “Bobby wouldn’t be able to handle it.” I laugh with scorn. “You think I’ve handled things badly, just wait until you see Bobby Bradford’s response.”
“Please, Ellie, don’t tell Bobby.” Carrie looks terrified.
“I’m not telling him,” I say, suddenly weary. “But, it doesn’t change anything, where we are.” I turn back to her. “Carrie, I can’t talk about this anymore with you. After today, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to try and put my life back together.”
“With Michael.” Her tone is firm, certain.
“Yes.” My voice doesn’t waver. I still lie so well. I actually have no idea what I’m going to do, what I want, but I’m damn sure I’m not going to confide in Carrie.
We leave the rest of this conversation unspoken. All the business between us regarding Michael, years of unspoken torment, is left unsaid.
There are too many sinners among us now.
I don’t tell her what I’ve learned about how easy infidelity really is. I remain silent on what I’ve learned on what can transpire and what these revelations have taught me.
“I’m just glad you’re back. The kids are going to be so happy,” Carrie finally says to me.
“I’m sure you’ve been mothering the hell out of them,” I say. “Look what a great child you turned out in Elaina.” Her eyes fill with tears and she looks away. I finally say, “Carrie thanks…thanks for taking care of my kids.”
“Yeah.” She looks over at me and I spy new tears gathering at her lashes.
“How’s Bobby?” I ask.
“He’s good. We’re good.” I watch her face. Her green eyes light up as she talks about him. I half-listen as she talks about an upcoming trip they’ve got planned to San Francisco. She and Robert are clearly more suited to each other. They like gourmet food, fine wine, traveling. Carrie goes on talking about their plans to visit the wine country, while they’re there. I nod at the appropriate intervals and hear her in this intangible kind of way while my nerve endings become more and more alert as we traverse the familiar route toward home.
“You better call Lisa,” Carrie says. Her directive brings me out of my reverie. She holds up her ringing cell phone where the name Lisa Chatham flashes across the screen.
“Don’t answer it,” I say. “Lisa can wait until Monday. I doubt very much cancer is going to kill me over the weekend, although there are other distinct possibilities.” I actually smile.
“God, I’ve missed you, Ellie,” Carrie says with a nervous laugh. She reaches across the car and squeezes my hand. We could bring the kids by tomorrow afternoon, if that’s okay.”
“Sure, maybe we can grill out or something. Walk the beach.”
The uncertainty of what awaits me at home takes over. My smile fades along with any semblance of bravado I may have had.
Carrie drives off the ferry and takes the route to my beach house. My breathing becomes more labored, the closer we get to it. Carrie starts talking again about picking up Emily from school and then going to Mathew’s baseball game. She assures me they’re doing well.
“They’ve missed you. They’ll be so glad that you’re back,” Carrie says. I nod and can only look out the window.
“I’m sure they’re pissed at me,” I say in dejection.
“No. They just want you back. They’ll be
thrilled
you’re back. Maybe, you can call them later tonight and we can firm up the plans for tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
We pass the intersection where our two oldest children met their untimely deaths. Someone has erected two white wooden crosses with their names painted in black on them. There are all kinds of flowers strewn around as well as a few Mylar balloons that state: “We miss you.”
I stare at the scene.
“Nick and Elaina had a nice trip. They got to see the world.” My words cause a new round of tears with the newest Mrs. Robert Bradford. I finally reach over and pat her hand. “Carrie, it’s going to be okay. They’re together. And, we’re going to be okay, too. Now.” I’m not sure where this benevolence is coming from, but it brings a peaceful look to the beautiful face of my former best friend.
Carrie nods and wipes away the tears with the back of her hand. “We’re okay,” Carrie echoes back to me.
“We are.”
Carrie negotiates the gravel drive to the beach house and keeps the car running while she lifts my luggage out and stands there for a minute.
“See you tomorrow, Ellie,” she says, uncertain.
We hug each other and then she gets back into her car. I stand at her rolled down driver’s window.
Stalling
.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say. We both share this weird sense of humor at the double entendre of what I’ve just said and laugh a little.
“What else? Right? It’s done. Everything’s been fucked up for a while now.” I sober up at this disparaging thought. “But it’s over. Done and over,” I say.
She drives away. I’m left standing in the gravel drive, watching her leave, and awaiting the answers to my life.
≈ ≈ ≈
He Brought Me Back
T
repidation grows within me as I turn back from watching Carrie’s car navigate the drive and contemplate the front door. With every passing second, I feel myself moving back toward my life. There’s no going back, no turning back. I have four wishes I know for sure; Mathew, Emily; me, and the unborn child I carry.
Only one wish remains unanswered and suddenly he’s standing right there in the doorway. I do an Eve Chandler move and run straight into his open arms and put mine around his neck and kiss him. “Michael,” I say. “I’m home.”
“Ellie.” It’s all he can say. He’s kissing me back and crushing me to him.
≈≈
Late afternoon
.
I’ve put the cremated remains of our children back on the mantel, while Michael carries my suitcase upstairs. I plug in the laptop and put my cell phone on the charger.
Once settled, I decide to take a bath. Minutes later, I’m mesmerized for some reason by the drip drip drip sound of the leaking faucet, I take needed refuge in the privacy of the locked master bath and surrender to the extraordinary silence. I try to relax, resting my head against the tub. I cup the warm water in one hand and watch it flow over my swelling stomach. I feel strange, outside of myself, but sense this bizarre communion to this house, to this place. I am Ellie Shaw, but somehow different, transformed in some way.
I can hear Michael milling about in the master bedroom. His muted footsteps move in a regular rhythm across the carpet.
Is he pacing?
After a while, he stops. There’s no sound of him.
Then, in another few minutes, his shadow is evident at the lighted slit of the doorway. I sense his hesitation in standing there. Trepidation combines with this weird sense of anticipation in what his next move will be. The door is locked.
What will he do when he discovers that? What will he think about that?
Our earlier embrace and welcome back kiss has disintegrated into uncomfortable awkward silence between us. We’ve gone our separate ways in this house in the past hour.
He tries the door. There’s a long pause after the handle is jiggled.
“Sorry,” I say in a trembling voice. “It’s locked.” I swing out of the tub, trailing water everywhere, unlock the door, and open it in a matter of twenty seconds. He’s standing there with a cup of tea in one hand, looking disconcerted, found out.
“I brought you tea,” he says, looking surprised at my nudity.
For a moment, I’ve forgotten about my normal shyness. The new Ellie Shaw is not as shy, not as reserved about her body. I boldly lift my eyes and return his gaze, while his eyes audaciously appraise my nakedness.
He gets this defiant look, as his hand reaches out of its own accord to trace my protruding stomach. I practically vibrate at his touch, but step back from him. He looks surprised and then disappointed by my reaction. He hands me the tea cup and quietly closes the door again.
Oh God. I shouldn’t have done that. What am I doing? Why did I reject him like that? Why am I here?
The idea of a bath seems foolish now. The water’s cold, when I stir it. Without ceremony, I drain the tub and watch the water swirl and disappear.
I wrap a towel around myself, sip the tea for a minute, and try to determine my next course of action. I’m also undone, by what just took place between us. It just adds to the turmoil and foreboding, fully aware that a confrontation of some sort lies ahead. With reluctance, I dress in fresh lingerie and walk into the master bedroom. Michael sits in one of the chairs by the fireplace, looking forlorn.
I walk past him toward the master closet and begin unpacking my suitcase. I have all these beautiful clothes from Court. I touch them, one by one, as I hang them up in the closet, while Michael just watches me. I know he has many questions, although he has not asked a single one. I pull on this light pink miniskirt sheath number. From behind me, Michael draws in his breath. I turn around and give him a questioning look.
“He must have loved you very much to buy you so many beautiful clothes, see you in them, and still let you go.” His voice is at the breaking point as he says this.
There will be no lying tonight.
There will be no sidestepping the issues right in front of us that separate us now.
“He did. But, we knew it was untenable, real enough, but untenable.” I give him this defiant look, knowing my words hurt him just by the devastated look on his face. “How did you find out about him?”
“Dan at the Gramercy Park hotel in New York was able to fill me in,” Michael says in this harsh tone. “He saw you leave with
him
.”
I move past Michael. I’m already tired of this conversation. I’m not as fully prepared as I thought to talk about Mr. Courtney Chandler with Dr. Michael Shaw. Michael reaches out and grabs my hand.
“I’m not leaving you, Ellie. I probably deserve what you’ve done, but I’m not leaving you because of it.”
“It wasn’t like that. That’s not why…It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it
like
, Ellie?” I hear the devastation in his voice now. “What’s Court Chandler like?”
“How do you know his name?” I ask in dismay. After all the hiding out in Europe, I’m shocked to hear Michael utter Mr. Court Chandler’s name so easily. The game’s up. Everything’s come undone.
“I told you. Dan was able to fill me in.”
I pull away from him and go and curl up in the chair next to the fireplace in our bedroom. Michael comes and kneels in front of me. “Who else knows?” I ask, defeated.
“No one.”
I nod into the silence. “He called Lisa this morning and told her he was bringing me home.”
“Why? Why did he bring you back?”
“He found out about the cancer, about me needing chemo. His mother died from breast cancer, ten years ago, so he…he’s pretty adamant about chemo therapy and he brought me back.” I look away from Michael.
“Brought you back?” Michael asks, uncertain.
I shrug into the silence, still not looking at him. “He said he couldn’t go through that again.” Just saying this cuts across my heartbreak and I know Michael can hear it.
“God damn you, Ellie.” Michael gets up from his kneeling position and stalks from the room.
“God already has,” I say into the emptiness.
≈≈
I’ve never seen Michael like this
—
this sullen, undone, angry man. I’ve seen him completely broken over Elaina’s death, when he didn’t talk to me for days at a time, but this coldness and this kind of seething rage is all new. I’ve done this to him. I don’t really know what I was thinking in coming back here. The love between us seems so far away. We’re two broken strangers simply occupying space in the same house. Our life together is shattered into inconsolable broken pieces.
I make dinner and set the table for two. He comes over and eats in complete silence. I clear the table after he’s finished and go do the dishes.
I look out into the setting twilight. It’s been raining all day, but the sun has made a last desperate attempt to shine. As the sun begins its descent, the water sparkles with the last rays of blue and gold light. It’s a beautiful sight and I breathe in deep, just taking it all in.
It’s so strange to be back in this house
—
this house that I love so much. It’s almost spiritual and in some way uplifting. I take it as sign that I’m in the right place. Little pieces of myself and my life come back together the longer I’m here.
I grab my cell phone and head out to the beach to watch the sun’s last effort for the day. In the silence, with only the lapping waves as background, I play Nick’s last message to me.
“Mom, it’s Nick. Are you coming to get me or what? Come on Ellen Kay, it’s day ninety-one. Your act is supposed to be together by now. Elaina’s here, too. We’re waiting for you. Okay, love you. It’s Nick, by the way.”
I push replay and put it on speaker and listen to it again. I settle down in the Adirondack chair and play it again.
“Nicky, I miss you so much,” I say. “Give Elaina a kiss for me.”
I re-save the message, set the phone down, and put my head down in my hands. Just listening to the lapping waves and the endless silence and thinking of them causes me to cry.
“He was a great kid,” Michael says, sliding down into the chair next to mine. I lift my head and look over at him.
“They both were.” I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand and lean back in the chair next to him.
We stare out at the water. The majestic sunset beholden to the dancing blues, whites, yellows and oranges of the coming night sky meets up with the water. He reaches for my hand and holds it just as the sun dips below the horizon.
“I took them all over Europe,” I finally say, looking over at him. In some way, I’m compelled to tell him my part in all of this.
“Where did you go?” Pain crosses Michael’s features when he asks me this.
“London, Paris, Rome,” I say in this quiet, faraway voice. “Paris was hard. I played Nick’s message for the first time there. I kind of broke down. He helped me through that. I was a wreck for a while.” I pause for a moment, trying to keep my breathing steady. The memories of Court are painful now and I try to hide this from Michael. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.” I hear desperation in his plea. His need to understand, to know the truth, is so obvious.
“We didn’t do anything physical for a long time. We both agreed the situation was untenable.”
“But real enough,” Michael says sarcastically, now.
I can feel his heart breaking because in some way it is connected to mine. “Then, we got to Italy.”
“I
hate
that country.” The way he says this almost makes me laugh, but I catch myself in time and give him a twisted smile in the fading light.
“Yeah, I don’t ever want to go there, again.” I give him my best former-UW-cheerleader-yeah-team smile.
“Please don’t do that. It’s hard to stay pissed off at you when you smile like that.”
This I know.
My smile deepens.
“I’ve discovered something, Michael.”
“What?” He turns toward me.
“I want to live. I want to live for you, Mathew, Emily, and me, and this…” I take his hand and put it on my stomach where his unborn child moves across me in a regular rhythm.
“What about Court Chandler?” Michael asks.
“He brought me back.” I bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling, failing to hide the painful heartbreak of the past few days, and shrug my shoulders. In my mind, I’ve just bared my soul to this man. I’ve spoken the truth, but I’m done sharing my memories of Mr. Court Chandler with Dr. Michael Shaw. I think my face tells him this. I stand up awkwardly and pick up my cell phone. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Michael.”
I race toward the house as fast as my with-child state lets me. I’m still not fast enough because Michael is already there, pulling the door open.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. I should be saying I’m sorry to you. I lied to you.” He’s out of breath. I can see what the words he’s said are costing him. “I…did…I was with Carrie. There was one night when we were with Elaina and then, we got a hotel room. It just happened.”
“It just happened? You
lied
to me! You broke my heart. You did that, Michael. Now, you want to
judge
me?” My anger takes over. I yank the door away from him and go inside.
“Ellie! I’m sorry. It…we knew it was a mistake. It’s just. We were trying to capture something of Elaina. I’m sorry. I still love you.”
I stare at him from across the room. His words cut across my very soul.
“Just one time, Michael?” I watch him carefully, awaiting his answer, deliberately setting the trap with the truth. He nods and knowing that he’s lying to me unleashes this unforeseeable rage.
“I loved you. I needed you, Michael,” I whisper. “My son was dead! And, you were never here.
Never
here! Elaina was still alive and I hated you both for it, you and Carrie.” I shake my head.
“All that babble about her waking up. She was never going to wake up!
Ever!
” I’m screaming now and I cannot stop. “So, I told her, Michael, I told her that Nick was dead.
I told her!
And, then…she died. She was waiting for him, waiting to hear his voice. When I told her he was dead, she
died
.”
My crying reaches a hysterical pitch. The tears keep coming and the fury just takes over.
“You slept with Carrie while Elaina was still living! You hadn’t even lost her yet. And then, you went back to Carrie after Elaina died, again and again. Carrie told me how you started up again after Elaina died. I needed you, but you were with Carrie. And, now you lie to me? You stand there and you lie about it.”