Thought I Knew You (34 page)

“I can’t go the rest of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Drew said. “What about who Greg is now?”

“It doesn’t matter, you know? Timing is such a huge part of life. I can’t love him like that anymore. Too much has happened.” I turned the tables on him. “Can you do this? Live this life? With me and the girls, the family you’d always wanted, but with Greg, too?”

“Greg doesn’t matter to me.
You
matter to me. And if I have to take him to have you, then I take him. I have faith, remember?”

“You say that now, but what about a year from now or more, when you and I go through a rough spot? There will be those, you know. No marriage is all up all the time.”

“What do you think this has been?” He smiled wryly. “I’m here because I want to be. Just let it go, okay?”

The changes in our lives affected the girls, too. Hannah started doing poorly in school and became belligerent with the teachers, refusing to do homework. She also wanted to quit dance class. Leah, as usual, fared better, but I noticed a significant jump in temper tantrums.

They would fight in the evening, screaming hateful words at each other, words I didn’t even know they knew, and it scared me. I began taking Hannah back to the child psychologist once a week, then arranged for Leah to go, too. The psychologist assured me that both responses were natural and gave me ideas on how to navigate my new waters. At her instruction, I tried to keep all developments with Greg transparent, telling them in detail about my trips to Toronto and taking them whenever I could.

When the doctors decided on the date Greg would transfer to New Jersey, I had to tell the girls that Greg wouldn’t be living with us. I used his therapy as an out, though it conflicted with my self-imposed honesty rule.
Some things are mine
, I justified. They reacted as expected: scared, frustrated, but still happy he would be coming home and they’d see him more.

“You’ll see him all the time,” I promised. For better or worse, Greg was a permanent fixture in our lives.

Greg reacted with mixed emotions when I told him about the group home I’d found. “I think it’s a good thing,” he said, but it sounded forced.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I am, Claire. I will be. I miss us as a family, I guess. I don’t know what I thought would happen when it came time for me to come back. It’s not realistic for us to live together. But still…” He gave me a sad smile. “I miss it. That’s all. I wish things were different. I’ll miss them so much. And you, I’ll miss you.”

I nodded because I, too, wished things were different. “You’ll see more of me now than you have for the last few months. You’ll get sick of me, you’ll see.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that could ever happen.” He pulled me into an unexpected hug. Since the day I had told him of our divorce, he’d been distant, careful to not cross any lines.

I hugged him back, resting my cheek on his shoulder. He was filling out some, although nowhere near his old stature. His arms felt reassuring around my waist, and we stayed locked in a hug. For a brief moment, I wished he had been this man years ago. Would I have loved him differently? I didn’t know. I pulled away, not wanting to mislead him. Was I doing the right thing? Could I love him again? Maybe. But logically, was I willing to walk away from what I’d found with Drew?

My heart hammered as we pulled up in front of Toronto rehab for the last time, I felt. Drew helped me get Leah out of the car, then hung back, deliberately fading into the background.

When we met Greg in the lobby, he carried only a duffel bag. He greeted the girls, hugging them, then kissed my cheek. He turned to Drew, and I held my breath. Greg extended his hand, almost grudgingly, and Drew shook it. Greg said, “Drew,” and they nodded at each other.

Greg then turned his attention to Leah. “Your hair has gotten so long, Leah!” Leah laughed in delight, as she wanted a “ponytail that goes down my back.” I expelled a breath and caught Drew’s eye. He winked discreetly at me. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

We made the trip home, stopping for dinner and to stretch our legs. Drew and Greg made casual conversation, but Drew stayed at arm’s length, careful not to be overly present, not to overshadow Greg’s big day home.

The next day, we had a welcome home party at the house, which was as strange as it was happy. My parents tried to put on cheerful faces. They were happy to see Greg again, but at the same time, the room felt tight with tension. We all laughed a little too loud and talked over each other, trying to make it feel normal. Greg was alternately withdrawn and excited, surely remembering his home and a time when he had a place in it.

Drew said later he’d never felt so uncomfortable in his life and that any progress toward making our house feel like his home was erased. I knew then that moving was going to be in our near future. I dreaded the impact that would have on the girls, but could foresee no other option.

As the evening wound to a close, Mom and Dad left, and I could see Greg fading. Life took its toll on him so easily. I drove him home, and the moment felt surreal. I remembered his memorial service, and the sensation of watching events unfold through Plexiglas returned. As I pulled into the parking lot of Greg’s new house, we turned to face each other.

He reached out and thumbed my cheek. “I still love you, Claire.”

“I know, Greg. I love you, too. I’m always here for you. But things are different now. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” he said. “For all you’ve done for me.”

Guilt pierced my heart, tailed closely by ever-present anger that never seemed to abate, following me like a sinister shadow since I’d left that small, dark kitchen weeks ago.
Thank me for leaving you?
“You don’t have to thank me,” I replied. “We’re still a family. You’re Hannah and Leah’s father.”

I drove away, haunted by doubt. I felt selfish, choosing my happiness over Hannah’s and Leah’s best interests. What if Greg and I could be happy again, the new Greg, a secret-free Greg? What if I was making a choice that would scar them forever? Could I push the anger out? Counsel it away? Or would it always be there, a long-ago applied Band-Aid over a gaping wound? I had no idea.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was consumed with my thoughts, unsure of my choices, of my emotions. When I walked into the house, Drew sat in the living room, reading a book. A glass of wine stood on the coffee table, waiting for me.

I watched him for a second. His brow was creased in concentration, his foot gently tapping to some inner rhythm. When he looked up and met my eyes, he smiled broadly, and my breath caught. He patted the cushion next to him, and as I sat, his arm went around me.

He kissed my head and, without waiting for me to say a word, said, “Tell me.”

I knew then that he understood my doubt. Because he knew me and always had. As I rested against him, telling him my fears and confusion, I realized neither loving Greg nor loving Drew had ever been a choice.

Epilogue

1 year later

T
here have always been two
men in my life. This has not changed. We’ve all somewhat adapted to our new patchwork family.

Greg has a new job; he went back to teaching. His short-term memory was too spotty to go back to giving lectures, but he found a position as an aide at a rehabilitation center, working with people like him. Some suffer from traumatic brain injuries; some have lifelong disabilities. He’s moving out of the group home and into his own apartment at the end of the month. This is no small accomplishment, and I’ve spent a lot of time organizing a surprise party in his honor. He’s developed an enormous support system; the guest list has over seventy people.
New Greg
draws people in, and the list of people he calls friends is longer than the list of people I know.

Sarah is flying in for the party; even she has formed a new friendship with Greg. They joke and tease each other with the familiarity of siblings, and I’m always grateful for the quickness of his smile, the ease of his laugh, the lightness in the air when she’s in the room. She finally decided to say yes to poor Owen, so in May, we’re all going out to California for her wedding, like the big, disjointed family we’ve become.

Drew and Greg have forged a somewhat tenuous friendship, partly out of necessity, but partly out of mutual respect. Drew has found it in his heart to take care of not only our family, but Greg as well. On occasion, he has even driven Greg to doctor’s appointments.

Drew and I sold the house and found an old farmhouse on the other side of Clinton. The new place was falling apart and needed more work than I would have liked. But Drew insisted he could fix it, even though he’s never fixed more than a leaky faucet in his life. The house is a constant project, but sometimes it’s a welcome distraction.

Our fixer-upper also gives Greg something to do. Somehow, in his sleep, he became adept at fixing things, when before he somewhat floundered with a hammer in his hand. I think it’s a result of his newfound patience and willingness to learn, more than any real acquired knowledge. He shows up unannounced on any day of the week, tinkers with this or that, tacks up a shutter, replaces a ceiling fan, repairs a squeaky board. His therapist says it’s great for him, and Drew pretends he doesn’t mind.

Leah and Hannah seem to have come through the ordeal, not unaffected, but at least unscathed. They are happy to have their daddy back in their lives. Greg frequently comes over to spend time with them. They hike in the woods behind our house, and ironically, Greg, previously so stoic, has become Hannah’s confidant. He now relates to her on a level I can’t compete with, and I find myself jealous when she comes home from school, upset or sad, and takes the phone into her room to whisper behind a closed door. Hannah still attends dance class, and the evening fights between her and Leah have stopped.

The girls have never appeared to be resentful of Drew, but I’m not so foolish to believe they won’t as teenagers. Drew is careful to love them without trying to replace Greg, and for big decisions, he defers to their father.

We have dinner together as an extended family on alternating Sundays. Generally, those gatherings are loud, raucous affairs. Deep down, I’m sure Drew wishes to have one family event without Greg’s presence, but you’d never outwardly know it. He is kind and friendly toward my ex in a way I could never have been had I been in his shoes. It’s on these Sundays when my heart overflows with love for Drew.

Drew and I have not married. We will someday. We would like to have a baby of our own, but I can’t in good conscience do that to Greg, not yet. I see Greg watching me when he thinks no one is looking, and sometimes it is with such open longing, it hurts my heart and twists my insides. It seems my role in life has not changed, but all the players have moved around me. My feelings for Greg are mixed. I sometimes remember Greg as he was, strong and sure, but for the Greg he is now, I have a parental, fiercely protective love.

I can’t help but wonder how my life would be if any of us had made just one small decision differently. If Greg hadn’t gone to Toronto. If Drew had stayed with Olivia. If in the end, I had chosen Greg. But when it comes to matters of the heart, you don’t always have a choice.

Sometimes, it just is.

About Kate Moretti

K
ate Moretti lives in Pennsylvania
with her husband, two kids, and a dog. She’s worked in the pharmaceutical industry for ten years as a scientist, and has been an avid fiction reader her entire life.

She enjoys traveling and cooking, although with two kids, a day job, and writing, she doesn’t get to do those things as much as she’d like.

Her lifelong dream is to buy an old house with a secret passageway.

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/katemorettiwriter

Blog:
A Beaker’s Reflection

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