The Marriage Intervention (19 page)

When she walked home a few minutes later, she noted with plenty of anger and stomping that she’d jogged only a couple of blocks. How could the girls expect her to run six-point-two miles? She could barely run six-point-two blocks. Because she felt like vomiting and crying at the same time, Josie growled. “They’re ruining my life.”
 

***

Okay, so maybe Summer and Delaney were onto something. The six-block run this morning felt truly awful, and she felt truly grumpy as she stomped home. But after showering, drinking a few cups of hot coffee and eating a veggie scramble, Josie felt refreshed and even a little accomplished.
 

So what if she was a terrible runner?
 

She’d get better. Little by little. Step by step.
 

She hated to admit it, but after the run, or half-run, or whatever she decided to call it, her mood felt lighter.
 

Summer said something about exercise creating endorphins. Was is possible the phenomenon was real?

All morning, she thought about Paul, and the memories played in her mind like a movie reel, viewed through a filter of endorphins.
 

 
One fall night they went to the county fair, determined to recreate their teenage years. They took shots of tequila in the parking lot, licking salt off each other’s necks and wrists, matching each other shot for shot, until they were buzzed and warm and giggling.
 

Then they bought wristbands and corn dogs and lemonades and went on every ride, some twice. They went on the Ferris wheel three times, making out like hormone-crazed kids whenever they rounded the top.
 

They shared funnel cake in the grandstands while they watched the demolition derby. When it was over, they sat in the silence, ears ringing, discussing their plans for the future: a house with a pool, a Goldendoodle puppy, and a couple of kids. Annual camping trips to the beach, family movie nights and long weekends in the mountains.
 

By the time they sobered up and drove home, it was almost light out. They tumbled into bed, had lazy, slow-motion sex and slept until after noon. Josie remembered thinking several times that night how lucky she was, how much she loved him and how she couldn’t wait to experience their future together.
 

One winter, they borrowed a friend’s four-wheel drive truck and north for a day. They planned on sledding, but when they arrived in the tiny mountain town a couple of hours from Juniper, they realized Paul had forgotten to pack the sleds. Since this was the first big snow of the season, the stores in town were all sold out. So they grabbed some supplies, got a cozy hotel room and spent the evening watching the snowfall, roasting marshmallows over the fire pit and making love in the gorgeous Jacuzzi tub.
 

Sure, they’d bickered over the forgotten sleds at first. He blamed her for distracting him by insisting on a coffee run before they left Juniper and she blamed him for not packing them in the first place. But they made up and turned it into one of the best one-night getaways ever.
 

A couple of months later in the spring, they had gone to a kite-flying event at the Juniper library. The mayor of Juniper wanted to beat some record for the number of kites flying all at once, and Josie convinced Paul they should go. She went out and bought a fancy kite—a dragon with a long plastic tail that supposedly shimmered in the breeze when the sunlight caught it. Only, the kite wouldn’t fly.
 

While Paul held the dragon by its belly, Josie took the string and ran as fast as she could so he could release the kite. It would soar up, looking so promising, its short tongue fluttering … and then it would plummet. Over and over again.
 

The wind carried Paul’s various curse words to Josie’s ears as she reeled the string back in at least a dozen times. When they finally called it quits, they were laughing so hard they couldn’t stop. They pulled an old blanket out of the car and laid on the grass, watching the 847 other kite-flyers beat the standing record for the number of people flying their kites at the same time. Afterward, they went for pizza and beer, breaking into giggles several times as they relived the disastrous incident. When they realized other patrons were glaring at them, they got their food to go and giggled all the way home.
 

“I guess kite-flying won’t be on the list of skills we teach our kids,” Paul said that night as they laid in bed in the dark.

They laughed again, and Josie drifted off to sleep in his arms thinking about their future children, girls with her black hair and his blue eyes, boys with his strong chin and her quick smile.
 

What had happened to that couple?
 

It was as if, several years ago, they came to a fork in the road of their marriage and took two different paths. Maybe the paths were parallel, heading in the same direction but never intersecting. Or worse, maybe they headed in completely opposite directions.

***

Josie owed Paul an apology.
 

The realization that it was her fault—at least, partially—their marriage wasn’t what it used to be hit Josie hard. She kept a big secret, for a long time. And during that time, which spanned their entire marriage, she probably acted and reacted in ways that weren’t normal for her because of that secret. How could she not have realized that?
 

In addition to apologizing, she needed to reassure Paul that at the end of this school year, Scott would be gone and out of her life for good. Would he accept her apology? Would he forgive her?
 

It was lunch recess, and Josie sat in the teachers’ lounge tapping her fork against the edge of the Tupperware that held her salad.
 

“You gonna eat that salad, or just make music?”
 

Susie Lighthouse, sweet as a summer day in her pink dress, breezed into the lounge and slid into the seat across from Josie. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, woman? You look so serious.”

Josie sighed.

“Have you ever done something you regretted, Susie?”
 

Susie unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite before nodding. “Yeah,” she said when she finally swallowed. “Like toilet papering Stephanie Hall’s house sophomore year of high school.”
 

“Really?” Josie wrinkled her nose. “That’s all you’ve got?”
 

“Oh! This one time, I played doorbell ditch with my friends, and we rang Mrs. MacMillan’s doorbell. She was my next-door neighbor. She was really old. I mean, like almost a hundred. Poor lady. It took her seven minutes to answer the door, and then we were gone. My friends convinced me to hide in Mrs. MacMillan’s shrubs, and they were laughing like loons as she stood there calling, ‘Who’s there?’ over and over again. She looked so sad when she finally shut the door. I still feel really bad about that.”

“Really, Susie? That’s it? You’re married, aren’t you?”
 

“Well, yeah, but I don’t regret that!”
 

Josie laughed. “That’s not what I meant. Haven’t you ever done anything you regret, in your marriage?”
 

Susie looked thoughtful for a minute.
 

“Well, you know,” she said. “I’ve been short with Rick, or turned him down for sex.” She giggled. “I’ve criticized him for wearing mismatched socks with shorts. Of course I experience guilt or remorse, but just little twinges. I wouldn’t say I regret those things. You know? Like, real regret?”

When Josie didn’t respond, and instead took a few bites of salad, Susie’s brow furrowed.
 

“What’s going on, Josie? What’s wrong?”
 

Josie shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
 

“I know it’s not nothing,” Susie said. Then, like a trained ninja interrogator, or a teacher, she waited.
 

“Fine,” Josie finally said. “Fine. It’s just that lately, I’ve experienced a lot of regret when it comes to my marriage. I know I’ve done so many things wrong. I want to fix it, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do. I mean, I want to apologize. But is that it? What then? An apology is one thing, but how do I change?”
 

“You just change.” Susie said, as if changing were the simplest thing in the world. “You make the choice, in every situation, to be the new Josie. To make the change. One choice at a time.”

“I can do that,” Josie said. “Thanks, Susie. Really. That’s good advice.”
 

The new Josie was prepared to conquer this change. But she wasn’t prepared for what she saw when she left school that afternoon.
 

***

Because she hadn’t finished her work until an hour after school ended, Josie thought she was the last teacher to leave. But when she walked downstairs, she discovered a scene that made her hackles rise.

Blair Upton perched on the edge of Scott Smith’s desk, her tiny hip draped in a bright orange skirt. Josie could see her from the back, and her perfectly coiffed French twist moved snappily from left to right.
 

Blair was threatening Scott just as she had done to Josie.
 

The adrenaline started pumping through Josie’s veins. Her hands shook. She gripped the banister hard, already planning what she would say. After she finished throttling Blair and her skinny little neck. Expletives aside, Josie would ask Blair how she slept at night, why she couldn’t just leave them alone, and why she’d always had it out for Josie.

But as she descended the final stairs to the bottom floor, she got a wider view of what was happening in that office, and she suddenly felt more intrigued than angry. Blair Upton’s arm reached out to Scott Smith’s waist, and her talon-like hand wrapped around his belt. Her fingertips were inside his pants, and she was leaning forward, pulling him towards her seductively.

For his part, Scott Smith didn’t look like he minded at all.
 

Hmm. Interesting.
 

Josie wondered how long this had been going on. Instead of confronting Blair, though, she started forming a plan, and she made a mental note to take the first step as soon as possible.

The chili simmered on the stove, filling the house with the scent of onion and garlic. Acoustic music played on the stereo, and Josie took sips from a glass of wine as she added the beans, tomato sauce and seasonings to the pot. Cornbread muffins baked in the oven, and Negro Modelo chilled in the fridge, waiting for Paul.
 

Josie had her apology all planned out.
 

Paul should be home any time now, and she’d welcome him with a nice, hot dinner, a good, cold beer and the speech she’d worked on throughout the day. She heard his car pull into the driveway, and she took a deep gulp of wine and an even deeper breath.
 

You can do this, Garcia.
 

Apologies didn’t come easy to Josie. They never had. Once, when she’d pinched her brother’s arm until she drew blood (because he got mud on her brand new jean jacket), her mother had said she had to stay in her room until she apologized.
 

Three days. Three entire days Josie sat on her bed, intermittently staring at the wall and reading a book. Finally, boredom forced her into Juan’s room.
 

A simple, “I’m sorry for pinching you,” would have sufficed, but she added on, “But it was your fault.”
 

“Back to your room, Josie Maria Esperanza Garcia!” their mother said. She’d sneaked into the hallway the moment she heard Josie’s door open. “You don’t put a qualifier on an apology. You should not have pinched your brother and that’s that.”
 

The second stint had been a bit shorter. Two days.
 

But she was all grown up now, she reminded herself as she stirred the chili and put the lid on it. Josie jumped when she heard a knock at the door.
 

Why would Paul knock? Maybe it was a delivery. Or a neighbor coming over for a cup of sugar. Sometimes Lynnie from across the street needed to borrow wine.
 

“For cooking,” she always said, her wrinkled face twisting into an expression Josie couldn’t quite read. Was it mischievous or just grateful? Josie wiped her hands on a dish towel and went to answer the door. She simultaneously noticed the patrol car in the driveway, pulled the door open and realized what the car—not Paul’s jalopy—and the knock meant.
 

That split-second realization dawned just in time for her to brace herself against the door as her vision began to gray around the edges.
 

Two uniformed police officers stood on the stoop, looking nervous. One of them played with a button on his shirt, and the other clenched and unclenched his hands.
 

“Is Paul—” she began, but found that her voice wouldn’t come out.
 

“He’s alive, ma’am,” the hand-clencher said.
 

Josie exhaled.
 

The other cop took a deep breath. “Comstock, er, Paul was in a car accident, Ms. Garcia,” he said. “He’s at Juniper Medical center now. He sustained significant injuries, including abrasions to the side of his face and a laceration on his forehead.”
 

“Speak English,” she snapped.
 

The hand-clencher cleared his throat. “He’s cut up pretty good, Ms. Garcia. We’re going to take you to the hospital right away.”
 

***

The back of the hand-clencher’s patrol car smelled like vomit and urine. Josie almost gagged when she got in. She felt trapped and helpless. At the moment, there was nothing she could do. The cops were running lights and sirens, and even though the drive to the hospital was completely out of her control, she felt somewhat at peace because she knew they’d get there faster than she could.