It has been three months since I had my little encounter with Jamie. Afterwards, I told him I needed time to think, so I picked up my wedding ring and went back to my old life. And now I'm wondering f I did the right thing.
Mike is off sitting in a bar somewhere, and I'm home alone. Not that it really matters, every couple years, we get into what Jamie calls a "cold war": We aren't really fighting .... In fact, we haven't spoken to each other at all in quite some time ... but the tension is continuous. I'm at the end of my rope and I don't know how much longer I can deal with it.
Here I am sitting at the kitchen table filled with an overwhelming sense of despair, looking back at my life and wondering what to do next. I know in my heart that this marriage has been over for some time, but it's hard to close the door and step off into the unknown; especially after years of being told that the only way I'm leaving is in a pine box.
Jamie and I have discussed the situation several times over the past couple months since we had our encounter, and he's made it quite clear what he wants for me ... Or should I say, 'for us' ... Telling me I shouldn't have to live under someone's thumb like this, I shouldn't have to be afraid to answer the phone, or feel the need to always park in the same spot at work just in case he decides to drive by and check up on me, or wonder when he's going to take the car away again so I can't even go to work. In my heart, I know he's offering me a far better life, but he just doesn't seem to understand that it isn't that easy to just pack up and leave.
I keep going over the last discussion we had about it in my mind ... About how I had taken the path of least resistance and sacrificed myself to make it work for the sake of the kids; and while he disagreed with some of my reasoning, it was my choice make. If I was going to do things differently, I going to have to make up my own mind in my own time.
"But things are different now," he told me. "The kids are grown and gone and it's time for you to think about what you want. I haven't forgotten Tara asking you why you married him in the first place; have things gotten any better?"
"Well, no, they haven't," I told him. "But now I have grandkids to worry about."
"I had three sets of grandparents, it wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, it's bad enough when it's your mom, but I can't think of anything more horrible for a kid than watching Grandma get beat up."
That stopped me cold. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think about, and I just wish I could convince myself it would never happen.
Then I get to thinking about an old friend who had a nervous breakdown after getting beat up once too many ... She's not Connie anymore. I really think the person I used to know is dead, and there's a stranger walking around with her name and her body. Could that be where I'm headed?
As I'm sitting here contemplating the future, I realize that after almost thirty-eight years of never knowing what kind of mood he will be in from one minute to the next, thirty-eight years of constant demanding and him screaming at me if I don't jump fast enough to satisfy his sense of control, I'm tired of living in fear. Jamie's right: Love is supposed to be sweet and fulfilling, and after thirty-eight years of marriage, there's nothing here for me anymore. I'm done. And with that, I lay my wedding band on the table, and walk out the door.
As I start the car and drive off, the mournful sound of Quarterflash on the radio fits my mood perfectly:
"Darlin' in my wildest dreams, I never thought I'd go But it's time to let you know, I'm gonna harden my heart I'm gonna swallow my tears I'm gonna turn ... and ... leave you here ..."
I'm about 20 miles away when I choke back my tears long enough to realize that I'm driving off into the night and have no idea where I'm going ....
'It's one in the morning,' I think to myself. 'And where can I go, where he won't find me?' 'I could go to a hotel ... But I really don't want to be alone right now; and what if Mike comes looking for me in the morning?' "The bars are closing soon ....." says a voice in the back of my head. 'Well, that might be a good way to work off my anger, not to mention giving me a place to stay for the night, but I really don't feel like that right now.'
The debate goes on as I lose myself in an instrumental on the radio. Then I catch the words and I know who can help:
"There you stood ... a distant memory So good ... like we never parted Said to myself I knew you'd set me free And here we are right back where we started Something's come over me And I don't know what to feel Maybe this fantasy is real Now I know I see what I want it to be ..."
"Call Jamie," says the voice in my head. "He'll know what to do."
'Yeah, I know what his suggestion will be,' I think to myself. 'I'm not sure I want a relationship right now, but I can always count on him for good advice. If nothing else, he'll make me feel a little better ... he always does.'
I dial the number .......
No answer.
"Of all the times .... " I curse to myself. "He must be asleep."
'Now what?' I think to myself. As the sense of utter isolation starts to sink in, the call goes to voice mail: "I can't take your call right now ... blah, blah, blah ... Leave a message and I'll get back to you."
"Jamie, I really need to talk to you. PLEASE call me back as soon as you can."
Just as the thought of going to a bar starts to sound like a viable option, I remember that Jamie had suspected things would end up like this, and had given me a key for just such an occasion. "If you need a place to hide out for a few days, you're always welcome here," he said. "Mike doesn't know where I live and the house is tucked back in the woods so he won't see the car from the road."
I haven't been there for thirty years, but I know the place well. It's the old Hanson place where we used to have kegger parties back in the 70's; so I decide it sounds like a good idea, at least for tonight, and headed out that way.
As I pull up the lane into the clearing, I am awestruck as the light of the full moon reveals a soaring tower and a wrap around porch trimmed with delicate spindle work. I can't believe what he has done with that crumbling old house that used to be littered with rusty beer cans. Far from "just fixing it up a little", as he so modestly put it, he has taken a fairly ordinary farm house and transformed it into a beautiful Queen Ann.
The porch light shines invitingly as I pull up, and a light shimmers through the stained glass of the tower like a beacon .... Almost like he knew I was coming.
Once inside, I find my way down the back hall, following the light into a time-warp: from the tiled walls to the soft lines of the 50's appliances, it was just like my grandma's kitchen. I can almost smell the fresh baked bread as a flood of childhood memories washes over me.
Looking over at the table, I find a wine glass and a bottle of golden elixir waiting for me; and sit down for a much needed drink. As I savor the flavor of sweet spices rising up in a sea of golden honey, I feel the anger and frustration melting away and the house seems to wrap its arms around me, making me feel completely safe for the first time in quite a while. The feeling comes over me that after spending fifteen years making up my mind, I have finally come home.
I sit for a few minutes, wondering if I should just sleep on the couch or go tell him that I'm here. Deciding I should tell him I'm here, I go looking for the bedroom. When I find the elaborately carved staircase, I pause at the bottom, pondering what happens next. After our last encounter, I needed time to think, and picked up my wedding ring and went back to my old life. Even if I do sleep on the couch, Mike will never believe it; so I may not have that option this time. If I'm going to stay here, I need to be sure of what it is that I really want.
The thought lingers in my mind that, if I hurry, I can get home before Mike does, and pretend none of this ever happened, avoiding the fire storm that will surely come out of it.
'But ...' I think to myself, 'there would be hell to pay if I didn't get there before he did. And I'm tired of living that way.'
Quietly climbing the stairs, I sneak into his room like a thief in the night to find him sleeping, his bed dimly illuminated by the silvery moon shining through the stained glass window.
I stand there watching him sleep, and after a few minutes of debate, I turn on the light.
Soon he stirs and looks up at me. "Well, hello, Pat. Nice to see you. Have you made up your mind, or are you just looking for a place to crash?"
"I don't know, Jamie. I'd like to say that it's over, but there's always something holding me back."