I
When Russell returned home for the summer after his second year of university, he was expecting some nice family time with his parents. Instead, Denise had to hit with him with some life changing news considering her and his father -- her partner.
"What do you mean you're separating?!" he outraged.
She tried to sound comforting, but her voice didn't hint at any pain. Truthfully, she didn't have any beyond perhaps what her son was going through. "These things happen, Russ. We really couldn't avoid it. Your father and I just don't connect as we used it."
Russell looked to his father, Richard, who was tense and quiet. "Dad...?"
"Sorry kiddo, sometimes life doesn't go as you expected it."
"I don't get it...how could this happen? You guys looked fine at Christmas. Why didn't you say anything then?"
Denise continued to carry her calm, reasonable tone, "We didn't want to burden your year. And we've gotten pretty good at putting on faces over the years."
"You mean this has been going on a long time?!"
"We kept our problems from you to protect you. But now that you're older, we have no reason to hide it - I have no reason to hide it."
Russell shook his head. "No. I don't believe this. You two love each other. And you should've told me before." He looked to his father again to say something. Something to fix things. He had his hands in pockets, his posture slumped over, and his vision not targeted at either one.
Denise also looked to her husband and knew he wasn't going to speak. Instead, she did, "Regardless of whether we should've given you warning, it wasn't your decision. As hard as it is to hear, you wouldn't have changed anything."
Russell put his hands on his head. "This is nuts," he proclaimed, dropping them again to look at his parents, "You just need to talk it out...go to one of those marriage counsellors or something."
"Honev," Denise started she rubbed his arm, "I know this is hard for you. Believe me: that ship has sailed. We can't go back."
She watched as he said nothing, opting to look down at the floor. The tiles were new. She would have to talk about the renovation with him as well. For now they were caught in some silent tension-filled moments.
Russell's father was the first to break the silence. "I should get going. I'll see you soon, Russ."
He lifted his head. "Wait, where are you going?"
"I'm staying with your uncle for now."
"What? No. You can sleep in the basement or something until you two work things through. This is just a blip."
His dad faintly smiled and touched his shoulder, squeezing it a bit. "We'll talk soon." With that, he turned to leave. He shared a mute exchange with Denise and then left the room.
She and Russell heard him walk through the creaky front hallway. With the thump of the front door behind him, he was gone. They stood in silence for a moment before Russell's mom perked at him.
"So, what would you like for dinner? You must be starved after driving here this morning!"
A half hour later she called Russell down, who entered and sat down without a word. She watched as Russell fumbled with his food, loosely fitting and refitting the grains of rice on his fork. It was just the two of them at their circular dinner table now. That would admittedly take some getting used to on her part, too.
Normally she could look to her right and see her former partner sitting between them. They changed their seating years ago. Denise wondered if Russell suspected it was because they didn't want to look across the table to see the other person looking back. Things had gotten that bad.
"You like the cupboards?" she asked, breaking the ice.
"Yeah, they look OK."
"How about the countertops? They're granite."
"They're good, Mom. I hope they came out like you wanted," Russell said. There was annoyance in his voice. He must've been thinking how rich it was that she was asking his opinion after the fact -- just like not saying a word about her divorce.
Then Russell dropped his fork, making it clang on the plate. "I don't get it...why now?"
"The work on the kitchen? Well, it needed some updating..."
He shook his head. "No, you guys deciding to not be...together."
"I told you, it was just timing. We did it for you."
"You've been together for 17 years," he urged once more.
"There were some very unhappy years, Russell. Your dad and I weren't getting along for a long time."
"But you should've talked or gone to see a professional," Russell pleaded.
"Your Dad was too stubborn to go. He was convinced that nothing was wrong and it would've been a waste of money." Denise took a drink of water. "Plus I don't think it would have done any good either."
"What do you mean?"
"Some situations are unfixable," she said. When it looked like he still didn't get it, she tried to explain with a reality check, "Happy endings don't always happen."
Denise was cognisant enough of her words and the disparaging effect on her son. To be sure, she was unapologetic about how she felt about the situation. But to spare his feelings any further, she didn't try to justify herself any longer. The other only words she would utter were to offer him more dinner.
"Seconds...?" she asked, holding up a Pyrex.
The next morning, Denise stretched her body out in her king sized bed. Her arms met the emptiness occupying the space next to her. The vastness of her king sized bed was becoming more familiar with each day away from her spouse, although some days she just forgot altogether. "Oh yeah," she yawned, smiling to her herself.
Upbeat and peppy, she swung her long legs off the bed and hopped into the shower. She was singing too! She never used to sing. The water rained on her body, trailing down her modest chest, taut stomach, and powerful thighs. Denise was by no means a model, but she kept herself in great shape. Her body a product of her Dutch roots, she lathered her strawberry blonde tresses and washed her statuesque frame. In a former time, the mom made active use of her body, but those were indeed days gone by. Stepping out of the shower, she dried her strawberry blonde hair and picked out her outfit for the day.
She continued her tune as she glided down the stairs, her floral sundress floating along with her. When she entered the kitchen, she found Russell hunched over a bowl of oatmeal. There wasn't a lot of her in him. Most notably, he took his father's brown hair and eyes, and his height didn't seem to come from her side of the family tree. She saw him do a double take as she passed by him.