chapter five

Too many lives to lead, and not enough time.

-The Guess Who, Undun

P: So . . . question.
I’m curious. Where exactly do you live?
Like, what’s the closest airport?

S: Why? You planning a trip?

There are things that happen in life where, when she would think back, she could remember exactly where she was or what she was doing. Where she could remember every detail about that moment. She’ll never forget the clingy, low cut tee shirt she wore the night she met her husband, the song she heard on a far off radio as she looked down at him on bended knee handing her a ring, the breeze through the open windows moving the curtains when she stood in her living room and told him she was pregnant.

For her, this was one of those times.

That morning, list of errands in hand, she was getting things together for a road trip, taking the kids to her parent’s house at the beach for a long Halloween weekend. P was in tow, nestled in her Blackberry, keeping her company as she stopped at the grocery store for snacks and walked through Target to pick up some last minute costume items. And as she sat in the lobby at the oil change place, she saw his morning message – please call my mobile – meaning he had gotten things up and running at work and could talk for a few minutes.

She was the one who brought it up. An upcoming trip. Just her. No kids, no husband. And she dangled it in front of him like a carrot, waiting to see if he’d bite.

P: You’re bad.

S: No, just making conversation. Just putting it out there.

P: You’re ba-ad.

S. Okay. So maybe I’m a little bad.

The reality of him no longer scared her. No more was she worried that he was really some homewrecker who was going to make problems for her. No longer did she dream that some slipup would expose them. Her confidence was growing at the same rate as her feelings. He was no longer the game she played to pass the time in her real life, he was her real life. She needed him.

S: Are we really talking about it? Meeting?

P: So it would seem. I like it.

S: You do?

P: I do.

S: I’d be there for work. I mean, I would have things

I had to do.

P: And I’d be the man behind the woman?

S: I like the way that sounds.

Once they began talking about it in that half wishful-thinking, half completely serious way, it was like he swallowed what was left of her ability to focus on anything else. Already she was absentminded, bumping in to walls, forgetting to eat, fumbling through her tasks on autopilot. But even autopilot was becoming a challenge.

S: Well, if we did this. If we met there, and
you saw me in real life, uh, if there wasn’t any
chemistry, or something, you know, there’d be
no hard feelings. I mean, you don’t have to
feel obligated to like me in real life if you see
me and, um, don’t.

P: As if. No matter what,
bodily fluids will be exchanged. Even if we don’t like
each other, we’d be obligated to do it at least once.

S: You’re funny.

That morning, gassing up the car and picking up a prescription and closing up the suitcase and waiting for her husband to stop home to kiss them all goodbye, all of it was a fight. Like walking in deep water or trying to move your arm after it’s fallen asleep. Because P was all she could think about. Meeting him, smelling him, touching him. Having his undivided attention. Giving him her body, taking his. Making it hers, for just a night or two. Making him hers.

S: I sure wish I was taking you to the beach with me today.

P: Me too

I need to be inside you baby

S: Well, looks like you may be in luck.

P: ?

S: If we are talking about meeting I mean.
That would lead to being inside

Me

Having a weekend to pretend that she wasn’t otherwise committed was, to her, like a tiny slice of heaven. Every communication didn’t have to be planned and hidden. Phone calls could be spontaneous and not carefully orchestrated. She could bring him to bed with her for three nights in her mind and her thoughts and her phone.

S: I loved how you just called me.

Do it again.

She emailed him pictures of the whole trip down. The highway once they finally got on the road. Her driving. The kids sleeping. Funny things she saw here and there.

And he kept tabs on her progress, asked if she was using her Bluetooth while she talked on the phone, made sure her car doors stayed locked. He paid attention to her details.

She felt like a real girlfriend.

P: You there yet?

S: You checking up on your girl?

P: Yes

S: Well, I made it.

P: Good. Now I can stop worrying

S: I’ll find you in the morning when

I’m looking at the ocean.

P. Good girl.

S: Night, baby.

She stepped in to the loving arms of her parents, who were used to hosting her little escapes. The trips she’d take without her husband. If they knew the reasons she had to get away every now and then, they never said so. The understanding remained unspoken. The bags came in, the kids scurried off to lay in bed and fall asleep watching television, a very rare treat. The Manhattans were poured, and they all took their familiar places around the living room. And it was as if the whole house let out a long, slow exhale.

And for the first time in almost a month, S fell asleep quickly. And she stayed asleep the whole night through.

She got up the next morning and began her ritual. The first day at her folks place was her time to sneak away without the kids or anyone else, and spend an hour or so walking along the ocean. To take in breaths so deep and pure and cleansing that whatever it was she was running away from on that particular visit, it would be gone by the time her walk was over.

She sent him a good morning message, fully expecting to receive his please call my mobile soon after. Thinking all along that their regular morning conversation would happen while he was driving in to work and she was walking along the ocean, she was excited to bring him to her favorite place.

But he didn’t answer. He wasn’t there.

S: Driving down to the beach. Windows down. Radio on.
Already warm.

. . .

S: Where are you? Why are you not on the beach with me?

. . .

S: I'm beginning to think it strange that I haven't heard
anything from you yet this morning. I'm about 10 minutes
or so from the end of my morning walk on the beach.
And I'm missing my boyfriend.

. . .

S: Um. Baby?

. . .

. . .

P: Sorry took the day off
Crowded here

S: And you just neglected to let me know? I was getting worried.

P: Sorry game time call
Decided this am

S: I know this sounds silly now, but I was really getting concerned.
I always hear from you first thing. And totally expected to hear
from you this morning.

Everything okay?

P: Yeah sorry

She was a little deflated, but swallowed it away, and sent him pictures of all of it. Through the gate at the entrance of the subdivision. Over the drawbridge crossing the inland waterway. Approaching the boardwalk. First glimpse of the ocean. Toes in the water. Sunrise. Her favorite beach house, which was now the place she wanted to run away to. With P.

But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as having him there hearing the waves crash and the gulls squawk. She wanted him to hear what her voice sounded like when she was there.

P: Hey

S: Hi

P: Only have a minute

Missing you

Loved the pics

S: I miss you too.

P: Gotta run

She tried not to let her feelings get hurt. He was up to his neck in real life, and she was on vacation by herself. She knew it wasn’t fair to expect that he would be easily accessible. But she still wished. She still hoped for that moment when he’d excuse himself from his real life and be present for her for a little while. Like she’d done so many times for him.

For just a thought, she let a doubt creep in. A moment of the old insecurity he talked her out of in the beginning. For a split second it crossed her mind that, while she was breezing through another rule, perhaps he wasn’t right there with her. For just a minute she considered that maybe he had stopped breezing.

P: Sorry

S: For what?

. . .

P: Making you miss me
today

She was up early the second morning, too. The dutiful daughter, doing all of the chores around the house that she didn’t want her parents attempting anymore, which they would no doubt do had she not insisted that they let her help, most of which had her carrying heavy things, teetering on ladders, and working up an early morning sweat.

It was hot and muggy, and she was sticky pretty miserable and so ready to head down to the beach, but there was one chore left to do. The palm tree by their front door needed pruning. Most of the branches came down easily, but she saved the tallest, hardest to reach branches for last. She was gripping the tree with one hand while looking up at the tangle of leaves, and her son came around the house calling for her. Just as she stepped up a rung of the ladder, her mom let go of it to turn to the boy. The ladder tipped, and she fell, her ribs hitting the ground first, then her shoulder jammed up under her ear, and her head came down on the concrete walkway.

Things became a jumble of darkness and light and voices she couldn’t quite make out, all blurry and far away sounding. She was trying to talk but couldn’t make anyone understand what she was saying, so maybe she wasn’t talking at all or maybe she was and it was just coming out babble. And then she heard the siren and saw the flashing lights pull up, and she slowly realized that they were here for her. Because something bad had just happened.

After a pretty quick battery of scans and x-rays, it was decided not to be any more serious than a bunch of bumps and bruises. She was advised as to how to handle her broken ribs, how her folks should monitor the bump on her head. Her mom shuffled through all of the papers they handed her to sign, argued with the nurse who refused to wrap her rib cage, and chased down the doctor who kept forgetting to write out the prescription for pain medication.

They were finally in the car driving back to the house, and S asked if they could go to the beach. And her mother completely understood. She knew that S would rather lay on a beach chair watching all the cousins play than on the couch in her living room. She knew that S would feel better breathing in the ocean air than the air conditioning. So they stopped by the house and carefully got cleaned up and changed, and as they were making their way back out to the car S spotted her phone on the charger and grabbed it. Because P didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know that his girl was hurt. She was sure that would be something he’d want to know. That he’d want to give her some attention since he couldn’t be there to kiss the pain away. And she needed his attention. She needed him to tell her everything was going to be okay.

Her expectations were high. Too high. She needed more from him that day than he was able to give.

P: Hey

S: Hi. Slight change of plans today. I've just left the er.
I fell off a ladder this morning

P: You!

You ok?

S: Only my pride is hurt. Good thing my head is so hard.

I have a bump and some bruised ribs

Gonna go lay on a beach chair

P: Dude

Sorry

Pain meds?

S: Dude? You called me dude?

P: Yes

S: How romantic

Dude

Anyway yes pain mess

Meds

P: Good girl

S: But I don't want to take them

P: Rest up

Feel better

Missing your clumsy ass

S: Mom and dad don't think I should leave

Yet

You are? Missing me?

. . .

Oh. Guess you are off again

God I hate weekends

P: Me too

And yes I miss you

But yes have to go

S: Not even bruised ribs and a trip to the er get me weekend

attention, huh? Well, have fun. Happy halloween. Later.

P: Shitty comment

Later

S: Hey. Don't be mad. I apologize. I just went through

something really major. I hurt. I just wanted some time.

P: Sorry you are hurt. And sorry I can't give you more time
Busy day

S: Yeah. It’s okay. Have fun.

She was stung by the tone of his words, and surprised that he wasn’t more affected by her news. Trapped in her head, she tried to ignore the chill in her chest and the twisting just below her heart that was her anxiety rising.

He was just busy, she told her self. He was busy and I am not. That’s all.

And her stomach started to churn like it did when something bad was happening, but she couldn’t tell if it was the fall or if it was something else. She couldn’t tell if it was just a crazy afternoon, or if something bigger was going on. She could swear there was something simmering just underneath his words, but her brain felt too fuzzy to be sure of anything.

Her eyelids were heavy, and she realized how tired she was. After a month of sleeping in preoccupied catnaps, finally having a full, uninterrupted night’s sleep the night before made her feel more exhausted instead of more rested. And her neck was starting to stiffen and her shoulder was getting sore. It was getting harder to breathe without feeling the pain in her ribs. She looked over at her dad, and he handed her a Vicodin and a bottle of water. She swallowed the pill, laid back in the chair, and within seconds, fell asleep.

P: Back home yet?

. . .

S: No. Spent the night back in the hospital

P: !

S: Just got on the road an hour ago

P: Why back at hospital?

S: Observation. I fell asleep yesterday afternoon and
they couldn't wake me up

P: Holy shit!
Should you be driving?!

S: I'm not
Husband came down
Really I knew I was ok
Just tired from not sleeping for a month

P: Good good
I'm glad he's there

S: Yeah

P: Ok
Well safe
Trip

S: Kind of a crazy night
And today I feel like I was hit by a bus
Nobody would let me sleep last night
It’s very surreal
Right. No time
Forgot what day it was

P: I figured you were busy

S: No. I'm not. Nothing to do but sit and think

P: He isn't reading over your shoulder

S: No. He's driving. I'm laying as flat as I can.
Texting a lot with my very worried bff
Kids are sleeping
But you need to be present with your fam
Not talking with me
Its Sunday. Its fine

P: I am worried about you

S: Yeah?
I'm ok
Just hurting

P: You sure
Where

S: My ribs. Neck. Shoulder.
Was a stupid fall
Baby? I'm not sure I can do this

P: What were you doing on the ladder

S: I was pruning a palm tree
My mom was holding it
I don't really remember what happened
I came to when the ambulance pulled in
I guess I was awake before that
But I don't remember it
I just remember being mortified that the
ambulance was there

P: Crazy
Do what baby?

S: Yeah. It was crazy. When I was done in the er we went to
catch up with everyone at the beach. Stopped at the house to
change and get my phone. After all that all I wanted to do was
curl up in the sun watch the kids play, and tell you all about it.
After our brief chat I went ahead and took some Vicodin
Eventually fell asleep
Next thing I know I am seeing all of these worried faces
And my son is crying
Because I wouldn't wake up
I was trying to tell them that I was just so tired
But fine
My cousin scooped me up into his car
And back to the hospital we went
I didn't have my phone

P: Yuck
And scary

S: Couldn't remember if I left any messages in there from you
Or even if I had locked it
And I got scared that somebody would find you in there

P: Yikes

S: My dad followed along to the hospital and had it in his pocket
the whole time
Gave it back when it rang at some point
I cried
So relieved

P: Why

S: To have it back
Then cried again

P: Why

S: To see nothing from you checking on me
Overall very tired and lots of drugs
made me all weepy I guess
My husband got there around 6
I sent him to go be with the kids
Trick or treating
and they were freaked
I stayed in the er all night
Woke me up every hour
To do vitals
Let me go around 5

P: Wow
So rough night all around

S: Yes

P: Sorry baby

S: For what?

P: For your fall and your horrible night

S: Yeah

P: Soo
You are having second thoughts?
About us
This

S: I don't know how to do this
How to love somebody when
we never get to be the priority.

P: I understand
And I

Have second thoughts too

And there it was, the source of that nagging feeling. The something bad that was about to happen. It wasn’t the fall or the injury or the night in the hospital or the worry. It wasn’t all the meds making her mouth dry and her brain fuzzy. It wasn’t guilt or doubt or worry. It was him. Mere hours after beginning to plan the meeting with the one man who knew the real her, the one she hid under her clothes, and loved her, now she understood that the clock was running out. And she was losing. Game over.