These Three Words (13 page)

She left me alone with my husband, her words ringing in my ears.

I remembered yesterday morning—was it only yesterday?—sitting on the deck with my cup of coffee, watching the sunrise, and thinking that I must have loved Gray once.

When I left him in February, it wasn’t because I didn’t love him, but because I was afraid if I stayed I’d someday forget that I’d loved him.

Over the eight months and thirt—

It was Friday now. Eight months and fourteen days.

Over the eight months and fourteen days between when I left and now, I had indeed forgotten that I loved him.

Standing here, I realized that
loved him
wasn’t accurate.

Love him.

There was no past tense about it.

Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe I’d been in love with Gray once and lost track of it, but the love itself was still there. I knew that because the thought of losing him was almost a physical pain.

I leaned down and whispered Mark’s three other words in his ear. “I love you. Maybe our marriage wasn’t working and maybe I wasn’t
in love
with you anymore, but I still love you, Gray. Loving you is a part of me.”

I stood up straight, picked up my purse and the envelope. “You have to get better.”

I gave Alice a small wave and made my way to the lobby of the hospital.

I felt disoriented as I stood looking at the revolving door. That’s when I realized that I’d ridden to the hospital in the ambulance with Gray.

I would have to call someone for a ride.

Then I realized my car was still at Steel, Inc. That couldn’t be more than a half mile from here. I could walk that, go home, shower,
and
still be back at the hospital in an hour.

I walked through the oversize revolving doors and stepped out into the still-dark morning. The air was brisk, but rather than feeling cold, it felt bracing.

I breathed in a large gulp of it. I hadn’t realized how oppressive the pervasive hospital smell was until I breathed in its absence.

I thought about calling JoAnn and Ash as I walked, but I didn’t feel up to talking. I sent out a simple text to both of them.
He’s stable. Still sedated. I’ll text when I know more.

As I walked, I checked my e-mail, but still nothing from Peggy.

She’d call today, and if she didn’t, I’d figure out how to contact her through the cruise line.

I walked down State Street toward Steel, Inc.

A steady wind blew from the north. When the weather got colder, those Canadian winds would blow across the open lake, picking up moisture as it went. When it reached the shore, all that moisture fell to the ground in the form of snow. The process had a name.

Lake effect.

Weather people all along the Great Lakes’ shores used the term frequently during the winter. Residents knew the term as well.

Down on Ferncliff, those Canadian winds buffeted the odd collection of fishing shacks. JoAnn’s had been renovated sometime in the eighties, years before she bought it. It still retained the look of its fishing-
shack roots on the outside, but the inside was from an era of big hair, Pac-Man, and Rubik’s Cubes.

Some of the shacks could no longer be called that. They were vacation homes.

The one next to JoAnn’s had never been renovated at all. It was the shackiest of them all.

I walked under an overpass, then back into the downtown area. The comedy club and restaurants. No chains here. These were locally owned.

Farther down the street were some shops and banks. The Erie Playhouse was half a block west.
For a smaller city, Erie had a vibrant local theater group with wonderful productions. Then the Warner Theater sat in all its glory right on State Street. I loved the great old theater. I had season tickets for the touring Broadway shows that played here.

Walking by the theater and thinking about the shows made me think about what Ash had said. Gray had been listening to Broadway tunes.

I couldn’t visualize that. I couldn’t imagine him humming or even singing along. Gray wasn’t the kind of man who listened to music. He turned on NPR in the car.

Why this sudden fascination with Broadway tunes?

State Street dipped as it came closer to the bay. I could see Steel, Inc. as I stood on the rise. Beyond it, I could see the bay. Beyond that, the peninsula. And though I couldn’t see it from here, beyond the peninsula was Lake Erie. Beyond that, London, Ontario.

I could see very far from this vantage point and I could count on what lay beyond what I could see.

Why couldn’t I do that for me and Gray?

With him, I couldn’t see beyond today. And I couldn’t know beyond that.

Once, I believed that I knew exactly how our life would unfold. We’d marry and be deliriously happy . . . ever after.

Ever after
wasn’t nearly as long as I’d thought it would be.

That was the thought that stuck with me as I walked the rest of the hill to the office. I’d just unlocked my car when Ash pulled into the lot next to my car. “Addie, how is he?”

“I sent you a text,” I said.

“
Stable
doesn’t say much.” His voice and expression were neutral, but I recognized his reproach.

“I’m sorry, Ash. I forget that Gray being sick doesn’t affect just me, but you, too.”

He nodded, accepting my apology.

“There’s really nothing more than that to say,” I told him. “Gray’s still sedated. They’re working on stabilizing his blood pressure. When they feel it’ll be safe, they’ll take him off the sedation and he’ll wake up.”

“Then he’ll come home?” Ash asked.

I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t sound like it. He’ll need rehab for a while. And then he’ll go home.”

Slowly, he asked, “When he comes home will you be there, Addie?”

I didn’t need to think about the answer. Maybe I hadn’t figured everything out, but this much I knew. “Yes. I’m not going anywhere until he’s well.”

“But after?” he pressed.

I felt a surge of anger because that was a question I couldn’t answer. I remembered that Gray and I had been happy, and I remembered that not only had I once loved him, but I also remembered that I still loved him. But the rest? Could we find our way back to each other? I didn’t know.

“Ash, you know I love you, but I’m not going to discuss my marriage with you.”

“You need to discuss it with someone,” he insisted.

“You’re right, I do. With Gray. Not that it will be a discussion. If conversations are ping-pong games, then the ones with Gray are the type where one person bends the table against a wall and plays solo. I hit the ball against a wall, again and again. It bounces back to me without Gray ever touching it. No one can sustain a game like that for long. On their own.”

Ash nodded. “A couple of weeks ago I told him he needed to go see you and talk things out. He said he’s no good at figuring out what to say. He said he was sure you knew he loved you and there wasn’t much to say after that.”

“Ash, I do love him, but a relationship should be a dialogue, not a monologue.” Maybe that summed it up. Our marriage had been a monologue and, after my straw moment, I simply couldn’t sustain it anymore.

I’d been heartbroken and unable to work out what I felt, much less work out what Gray felt. I admitted, “I was lost, Ash. I needed him and he turned away from me.”

“That’s what I said to him. Obviously,
she doesn’t know how you feel this time
.”

“What did he say to that?” I asked.

Ash shook his head. “He didn’t say anything. He turned around, went into his office, and turned on some music.”

That summed up our marriage. When things got difficult, Gray didn’t say anything. He just turned away.

I had just officially discussed my problems with my husband more with Ash than Gray and I had ever managed, even with one aborted trip to a therapist.

“I’m running home to grab a shower and change my clothes before I go back,” I told Ash.

“Eat something, too, okay?” he said.

I nodded my agreement, if only to stop him from taking me inside and force-feeding me something.

I didn’t argue. I simply nodded, closed my car door, and sped away.

A few minutes later I drove down the hill to JoAnn’s house on Ferncliff.

I let myself in the door and dropped my purse, anxious to hurry up just in case the hospital tried to call me.

I didn’t set the envelope down. I took the papers that I’d carried around for twenty-four hours upstairs. I started to put them on the bed, but instead I found myself walking through the bedroom to the second-story deck. I sat in the chair, opened the envelope, and pulled out the divorce papers.

MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT,
the header proclaimed in bold, capital letters.

AGREEMENT by and between Adeline Frasier Grayson (hereinafter referred to as “Wife”) and Graham R. Grayson, Jr. (hereinafter referred to as “Husband”)

I skimmed through all the gobbledygook lawyer-speak.

One sentence stood out.

. . . we now mutually desire to dissolve our marriage and live permanently separate and apart from each other, as if we were single
. . .

“As if we were single,” I murmured to myself.

I had so much I needed to do, but for the moment, I sat on the deck, looking out at the bay, holding papers that stated I wanted to live my life as if I were single, and I knew it for the lie it was.

What I wanted was Gray.

It’s what I’d always wanted.

I remembered our wedding day, just across the bay on Presque Isle peninsula.

“Hey, hippie,” JoAnn said. “It’s time.”

“Hippie?” I asked with a laugh. Everything seemed funny today. Everything seemed bright and sparkly.

I’d read stories about prewedding jitters, but I hadn’t experienced them. This was where I was meant to be
. . .
marrying Gray.

I had no family left to speak of and Gray only had his mother. So we decided on a quiet affair—just his mom, our friends, and a district justice whom Gray knew.

I was the one who’d suggested the beach.

Gray agreed, more because it was what I wanted than anything else.

I walked with JoAnn from the tree line across the rocky sand to the water’s edge where Gray, his mom, and Ash waited with the district justice. Other friends gathered in a small semicircle.

As I approached, I took Gray’s hand and I looked in his eyes. I saw no trace of jitters there either. I simply saw love.

The justice said, “Welcome to this celebration of two people who have come together to join their lives permanently. From this day forth, they’ll still be two individuals, but they’ll share one heart. Two individuals, but one marriage. Two people with one love.”

He nodded at me.

I’d practiced this moment in my mind so many times over the last few weeks. I didn’t feel at all nervous as I said, “Gray, I think that I’ve loved you since the moment I met you in kindergarten. You put your arm around me and said,
It’s okay. I’m here
. And you’ve been with me ever since. First as a friend, then as someone I loved. And after today, you’ll be something else entirely. You’ll be my husband. I promise to love you, care for you, and be with you forever.”

I didn’t slip a ring on his finger because Gray wasn’t the jewelry kind of guy. But I knew he didn’t need a ring to remind him we were married.

The district justice cleared his throat, and Gray said, “I can’t be as eloquent as you. Finding the right words has never been my forte, but Addie, I love you. I will always take care of you, and protect you and the family we’ll build. I’d give you the world if I could.”

He slipped a ring on my finger. He’d wanted to buy something elaborate, but the engagement ring was more than elaborate enough. I’d asked for a simple gold band.

As he slid it on my finger, the justice said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

“I love you,” I said before he kissed me.

“I love you, too,” he replied.