What Is Love?
This is a very simple little story. I suppose that I'm a bit of a contrarian, but with all the stories about cheating wives and bitter divorces, I wondered what it might be like if two people divorced without adultery being the reason and still felt a sadness and a connection for what could have been?
There is no sex in this story.
>>> >>> >>>
"Hey, Larry, how're they hangin'?"
I barely had time to think "Spare me!" before he was alongside, interrupting a conversation I was having with my neighbor and broadcasting his superficial joviality for all to hear.
Anyway, that's me, Larry Jenkins. I'm a union carpenter working for my old man. Like I always say, "It ain't exciting, but it pays the bills." I suppose that describes me as well. Nobody ever accused me of being exciting, but I work hard, take care of the people around me, and I get the bills paid. I always figured that if a man did that and had time after work to kiss his wife and play with the kids, then he was a success. I always thought that I was a success until two women told me that I wasn't.
Anyway, that fellow calling to me was Barry Roberts. He's a friend of sorts from the neighborhood. It was a Saturday afternoon in July, and we were both at the Harper cookout. Summer cookouts rotate through the neighborhood with each neighbor taking a turn, but the Harpers were among the most popular hosts because they had an inground pool. The Harper cookouts always started in the early afternoon. The kids arrived in their swimsuits and the parents arrived with salads, desserts, and the "just in case" beer.
Everyone turns out for the Roberts cookouts and that includes my ex-wife. Yeah, that's right. You heard me. My ex-wife lives in the same community as me. We had lived in an apartment on the edge of the community, and we got to know a lot of the people here. It seems crazy now, almost masochistic, but a few years after we divorced, we both wound up buying houses in this same community because this is where we had friends. I was the first to move into the community after the divorce. Then about a year later we almost talked about it. She said, "Bill and I are looking at a house over on Apple. I hope you don't have a problem with that." It wasn't really a question; it was more like a need-to-know statement of fact, but she seemed sincere. I just shrugged like it was fate that she would continue to plunge a dagger in my heart, and since I wasn't inclined to discuss it further, she eventually turned and walked away. I suppose you could say that I'm the type to hold a grudge.
You see, Deb and I married young. We were fresh out of high school, and I got a job working for my father. I figured I knew everything, and nobody could tell me anything. I got a paycheck, a truck, and a girlfriend. I was a man. Then the girlfriend got pregnant, and life got very real very fast. Beer, parties, and dancing turned into baby formula, mac and cheese, and diapers. I was working to keep the commitments at my job by day and working to keep my commitments at home by night. My wife needed help, our baby needed attention, and sex became a distant memory. On top of that, we were sleep deprived. I was tired, she was tired, and the baby was never tired when we wanted her to be. We barely lasted a year after the baby was born and then I became another statistic - a divorced dad.
Looking back, it wasn't anyone's fault and yet it was both our fault. We were too young for marriage, and we were way too young to be parents. We were still kids ourselves; we were kids having sex and playing house.
Anyway, mom and dad helped me out. I moved home and went to trade school. When I came out, I was better trained and ready for a real job. Dad hired me back and I was soon moving up through the ranks. We talked about me someday taking over, but I was going to learn every part of the company first. The other workers seemed to like me good enough. I got a little of the friendly "He's the boss's kid" jokes, but I eventually earned their respect, and the friendships were real.
When I was ready, I bought a house in that neighborhood near where I'd once lived, fixed it up, and started thinking that maybe I was ready to try marriage again. That isn't what brought me to the cookout that day, but I suppose it was part of it. You see, about six months before that I'd met Julie. We hit it off, started dating, and things were getting serious. We hadn't had "the talk" as yet, but I felt it was unspoken and we would be having it soon. You know what I mean, right? It's the "Are we getting serious? Are we exclusive? Where is this going?" talk.
So I'm standing there with my beer in my hand when Barry calls out, "Hey, Larry, how're they hangin'?" I turned, smiled, and raised my beer in salute, hoping it would suffice, but it didn't. He was on me like a tick on a dog and for the next five minutes I had to endure his nonstop diatribe without so much as a pause for a breath lest someone else get a word in.
I really never liked Barry. He was a braggart, and he was loud. What's more, it seems that whenever he looked at me, he had this smirk on his face that was trying to pass as a smile, but it wasn't. The guy definitely thought he was better than me, or he knew something that I didn't know. We talked for a bit, or to be more correct I listened for what seemed like an eternity. He ended by asking me how Julie was doing and was she wearing that little white bikini that she had? No, I never liked the guy.
He eventually wandered off and I resumed my conversation with a few of the neighbors. The kids played in the pool, I poured myself another cold one, and everyone settled into a relaxing Saturday afternoon.
I knew she had arrived before I saw her. My daughter's squeal announced them. The munchkin jumped into my lap and gave me her biggest, wettest kiss after saying hello to all of her friends. Dad came second, but that's okay. That's the way it's supposed to be when you're young and excited.
The neighbors had gotten used to the story, but still I could see their posture change ever so slightly whenever they spotted my ex. She and her new husband attended most of the cookouts, so running into her had become a predictable part of living there. I was in no hurry, so I pretended not to notice her and continued the conversation with my daughter.
It was about a half hour later when I felt a hand on my arm. "Larry? It's good to see you. Did Julie come?"
I turned to acknowledge my ex-wife, and with the best fake smile I could muster said, "Yeah. She's around here somewhere."
I can't quite describe the look she gave me. Was it an attempt to be pleasant? Was it sadness or concern? Was she jealous? Who cares? Too damn bad if she is. I made it a point to be pleasant, but I never encouraged any conversation.
"Well, if you see her tell her I said hello." With that, she turned and quietly walked away. It seemed like an odd thing to say since the cookout still had hours to go, but even after so many years women were still a mystery to me, and I soon forgot it.
It's hard to describe my relationship with my ex. She seemed to want to be friends, but I couldn't see the point of it. There was only pain there. She was always asking me how I was. Was that for lack of anything else to say, or an opening line to a conversation that never happened? No matter. She had moved on. She had her new husband, and we were sharing our parenting responsibilities well enough.
I did see Julie from time to time that afternoon and evening. She'd check in for a time, tell me the gossip she'd heard, and then be off again. When the music started up we danced, and when one of the neighbor wives asked me for a dance I obliged. That freed Julie to dance with the other men which is something she always seemed to enjoy. No matter. What harm could come with all the families and kids there? Besides, I trusted her.
Late that evening, when the sun went down, the grill was turned off, and the cookout slowly winding down, my ex sat down beside me. "Great!" I thought to myself. "Now what?"
