Revelations and Revolutions
I listened as Carrie did what had become the norm in our house for the past six months, she screamed at the top of her lungs at me. It wasn't about anything really, yet it seemed to be about everything in general these days. That is, everything that involved me or that she had suspicions that I was involved in whether I had anything to do with it or not. I took the blame for everything that went wrong in her life, our collective lives together, and believe me, her list of grievances was long. She was relentless in her efforts to find fault with my very existence. Today was just another Saturday at the Stevens house and as usual, there was no escaping her wrath. "John why is this damn washer not spinning out correctly! Why didn't you fix the damn thing like you promised?"
"Carrie Ann, I told you, the motor is ready to give out. I asked, no, I pleaded with you to do the laundry more often with smaller loads to lighten the stress on the motor until we got the washer replaced. I've ordered the new state of the art washer/dryer combo you wanted but with the supply chain issues it is going to be another three weeks before they can have a set delivered."
I went to the washer, opened the door, and found a full load of heavy towels inside, about an entire weeks' worth. I pulled about half out and threw them into an empty laundry basket. I closed the lid and restarted the cycle. I watched as the washer hummed to life and listened as the load began its final spin because the machine was not laboring under the excess weight.
"Carrie, there is an entire weeks' worth of towels in here! You don't work so what takes up so much of your time that you can't do a load or two a day?" She looked at me as if I slapped her. I watched as she scrunched up her face and prepared to launch another tirade for my benefit. I managed to squeeze by her and exited the laundry room as I now planned to spend the rest of my day outside working on the yard and out of the line of fire.
It was about thirty minutes later that I heard the garage door as it opened and I watched as her car pulled away and listened to the tires screech as they spun on the asphalt of our street. I knew she wanted the entire neighborhood to know her immense displeasure with me. That was it, the burning rubber was the final straw. The incessant nonstop screaming and bickering, every evening after work and all weekend long. As the tires yielded to the immense pressure of the torque, applied to the axle from power supplied by a briskly accelerated engine, the squealing signified the loss of traction; and as the rapid turning of the wheels where intense friction literally tore a layer of rubber from the front tires and left it upon the unforgiving pavement, I finally decided to make my stand.
The squealing tires proved to be a perfect metaphor for my life. She had stomped too hard on the accelerator just one too many times. She had peeled off just one too many layers of rubber. I, like her well-worn treads, was nothing more than burned rubber on the asphalt. I believed that she felt that I, like her tires, needed to be replaced sooner rather than later. As I headed inside the house that used to be my home, now nothing more than a cold and heartless shelter from the elements, I made one of the biggest decisions of my life. I decided, then and there, I had had it.
The way she left me on this fateful Saturday reenforced how badly I had been treated during the past six months. I realized any effort being made was certainly a one-sided affair. This latest meltdown and vicious tirade forced me to face something I hadn't wanted to face. For the first time I acknowledged and confronted my own feelings. In doing so I came the realization that I was no longer in love with my wife.
I allowed myself to think and admit, I deserved to be treated better, much better than how I've been treated for a long time. Having such an epiphany made me realize that I needed out of here, immediately. It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off me. With newfound energy I ran to my study, got on my computer, and looked for affordable places to stay. Luckily, I found an old-fashioned boarding house on the other side of town that was close to work.
I called and spoke with a pleasant woman who gave me the rates and told me she had a vacancy coming up this Friday. I made an appointment to meet her and she got permission from the tenant to allow her to show me the room. Then I jumped in my truck and drove down to the local warehouse store and bought about two dozen moving boxes of assorted sizes. I took them home and called a storage facility near the location I had hoped would be my new temporary living quarters.
After I hung up with the storage facility, I began the ardent task of excavating my earthly goods from my former home. I say excavating because I had felt buried deep and forgotten within the walls of this house for quite some time. Today, I was a Renaissance man. I emerged from the dark ages of my marriage with an enlightened view of the future where truth, beauty, light and love existed. This was the first step toward that bright and exciting, if unknown future, and it was equally exciting and frightening at the same time.
I hooked up my enclosed utility trailer to my pickup and loaded my tools, golf clubs, my bureau sans the drawers which went back inside the bureau once I had wrestled the empty frame down the stairs and into the trailer. I packed boxes with my folded clothes, a few clean towels, my pillows, alarm clock, and a small reading lamp. I used a laundry basket for my toiletries that I removed from the master bath. Next went my books, my desk and file cabinet including the contents along with my desktop and lap top computers, my phone charging cords. I carefully loaded them inside the trailer and made sure everything was safely secured. I rigged up a bar for my hanging clothes and carried them all down. It took me three and a half hours to compact twenty-two years of my life into a that small space. The only thing I left behind was my gun safe but Carrie didn't have the combination. I'd need help to remove it and load it so it had to wait.
As I drove toward the storage unit, I realized I was famished. I looked at my watch and saw it was 12:50pm and I hadn't eaten since dinner last night. I didn't even get the chance for a cup of coffee after Carrie started her tantrum. I decided to just back the trailer into the storage unit for now and grab a bite before I headed out to my appointment at the boarding house. I stopped at a diner where I occasionally ate lunch and devoured a club sandwich with fries and a couple of Cokes. I phoned and reserved a kitchenette in an extended stay motel before I met with Mrs. Devine. I learned that she was widowed after fifty some years and had a five-bedroom home where she and her husband had raised their family. She let out the four extra rooms to supplement her income.
She provided breakfast and supper, that was included with the price of the room. She had coin operated laundry facilities available for tenant use in her basement. The room came with linens but the tenants were responsible for washing their own bedding and keeping their rooms clean and tidy. Her steadfast rule was to be respectful of others. No loud music, excessive noise and no one of the opposite sex in your room. She also forbade the discussion of politics or religion during meals or in the common areas. She felt that would greatly minimize arguments and fighting. Her rules were in writing and you were required to sign a copy stating you understood both the rules and the consequences for violating. Violation of her rules resulted in immediate eviction. I signed the agreement, paid her for two weeks in advance and told her that I'd see her Friday evening.
Next, I called my daughter Erin and asked her to meet me at her favorite coffee shop. She hesitated and then told me she had plans. She and her best friend Georgia and a couple of others planned to see the concert featuring the bands Delta Blue and the Manny Mann Ragtime Band then spend the night in Centerville which was nearly three hours away. I pleaded with her, "I'm sorry baby but this is extremely important! I swear I'll only take up about the time for you to drink a salted caramel latte."
She paused and though her voice sounded a bit irritated she finally said, "Okay Dad. I'll see you in thirty minutes." As she hung up, I wondered how she would take the news that I had just packed up part and parcel and left her mother. I knew she had felt the tension every time she visited with Carrie and I together. The few times we were together just the two of us, I made a point to not discuss the elephant in the room that had been there for months now.
I've no way of knowing what she and Carrie discussed when I was absent. I just sensed the stress she felt and noticed that her visits became shorter and farther in between. I absolutely hated the idea of being a part of her discomfort or causing my baby girl any pain, however, there is no way for her to avoid finding out and I don't want her to be blindsided.
I arrived at the coffeeshop about ten minutes ahead of the time I was to meet Erin. So, I grabbed us a table and then about five minutes before her arrival I went up and ordered her latte and a strong black coffee for myself. I had just got seated again when I saw Erin come through the door. She appeared stressed and almost as if she didn't want to be here. I got up and gave my daughter a hug and immediately felt her tense up. "Hi baby girl! Thanks for coming on such short notice."
Erin was 24 and a true vision of loveliness. Blonde hair, blue eyes and normally had a smile that lit up any room she entered. Some she had inherited from her mother and some from the women on my side of the family. She had definitely got the best of both sides of the gene pool. She was also very affectionate and had been a daddy's girl. Something was decidedly off with her but, I was clueless as to why unless it had to do with her mother's apparent and well vocalized views of me as of late.
Quickly she took her seat as she said, "Hi Dad, I'm kind of in a hurry. I'm going to a concert with friends and it's a long drive." That was strange as she always called me Daddy and now it was Dad twice today. Once over the phone a scant few minutes ago and again, just now. We had always shared the same terms of endearment. She was my baby girl and I was Daddy. I realized the how the distance between us was as wide a span as the Grand Canyon, yet we were just three feet apart, and the hurt I felt, was just as deep.
"Erin, what is wrong with you? You are definitely not yourself! Have I done something to make you feel uncomfortable or to upset you?" I asked genuinely concerned about her.
