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Chapter Thirty:
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We didn’t spend Thanksgiving in New York, Maria and I.
We didn’t spend it in my apartment either.
We spent it at my mother’s. My mother, Maria, and I.
And Richard.
“So Maria,” Richard has kept up with his pleasant small talk since the moment we were all seated together, in the kitchen. “Nancy tells me you work in the coffee shop near Liz’s apartment. How’s that going?”
“Good,” she says.
She’s lying.
She hates it. She complains every day.
“It has its ups and downs,” she smiles still. “But … it’s work. Gives me something to do.”
“And how are things at the apartment, Liz?” he asks.
I don’t look at him. “Good.”
“So, Maria,” he keeps his attention on her.
I’m thankful for it.
Maria can carry on conversation with him well.
I think she’s used to his type.
Wealthy business men.
Maxwell.
Multimillion dollar shipping company.
She’s used to it.
I’m not.
I get up to join my mother in the kitchen.
She’s plating the ham.
No turkey this year. Just ham.
Father liked turkey.
Max likes ham.
He brought one last year. When it was just my mother, Max, and I.
Maybe she remembered.
Maybe that’s why she’s serving it.
“So where’s Max?” she asks.
Where is Max?
New York. Time apart. He’s off living his life.
She looks at me, still waiting for an answer.
“He’s busy,” I say. He always is.
She makes a face, but says no more about it.
I’m thankful for it.
The doorbell rings.
I look at her. “Are you expecting someone?”
Alex?
No. I’ve settled things with him. He left. He promised. He left me to live my life as I chose it.
Did I choose this?
Is this something I should be thankful for?
My mother shakes her head. “I have no idea who that could be.”
She seems genuine.
But I know her. She likes to scheme.
“Liz will you get the door?” she asks.
Her hands are filled with garnishes. She shows them to me.
I nod my head, and prepare myself.
Maybe it’s another suitable son from her bridge club. Maybe it’s someone Richard knows. Maybe it’s more people, trying to take my father’s place.
I open the door.
He smiles.
I stare.
“Hi,” he says, keeping the smile on his lips.
He’s being polite. He always is, when he’s here.
“I brought pie.” He shows me, holding it with both hands. “It’s pumpkin.”
My hand is still on the door.
My mother comes out, wiping her hands on a towel.
There’s a smile on her lips. She’s polite too. “Max. What a surprise! Liz said you were busy with work.”
I never said work. I only said he was busy.
He steps inside and kisses her on the cheek. She’s his mother in law. It’s the polite thing to do. “It’s Thanksgiving. I couldn’t miss this.”
“Oh, a pumpkin pie!” she feigns excitement, taking it from him.
Max nods his head. “It’s Maria’s favorite.”
Mine too.
But he should know that. After all, he’s my husband.
And he’s here.
“Well, come on in. I’ll set a place for you.” She heads towards the kitchen.
He doesn’t follow.
He stands here. With me.
I stare.
Max.
“Hi,” he says again.
He’s smiling.
Is he happy to see me?
Is that why he’s here?
“We’re having ham,” it’s all I could think to say.
“I like ham.”
I nod. I know. After all, he’s my husband.
“Liz. Maxwell,” Maria is calling us.
But I can’t stop staring at him.
He’s here.
He looks past me, towards her.
“When you’re both done staring at each other, you mind coming to the table? I’m starving here.” She sounds almost annoyed. It’s a teenager thing.
“Are you ready now?” he asks. His hand touches my cheek.
Two years ago, his touch would give me goose bumps.
I still feel them now.
I nod my head. “I’m ready.”
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Empty (AU, ML, MATURE) (Complete)
Moderators: Itzstacie, Forum Moderators
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Chapter Thirty One:
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“Pack a bag. Come to New York with me.”
We got home ten minutes ago.
Thanksgiving dinner was uneventful. Polite.
Maria didn’t come home with us. She took her brother’s car to go out. With a friend, she had said.
I’m thinking Max told her to take his car. So we could have this moment.
Together.
He rode back to the apartment with me in my car. Our apartment.
The ride was slow.
He didn’t say a word. Until now.
I sit down on the bed. Our bed.
He stands before me.
I can’t look at him. But I ask, “When are you leaving?”
He’s quiet. “In the morning. I have to go.”
I nod. I knew. He always has to go.
Is this what I wanted?
He stays waiting. He’s always waited. I think he’s tired of waiting now.
Life goes on.
Go with him to New York …
I’ve waited for this. I’ve anticipated it. It’s run through my mind, while I tried not to think about it. While life passed me by.
But his life goes on.
He kneels before me. He makes me look at him.
Even though I don’t want to.
Because I’ll see my Max, the man who married me two years ago … to take away my pain. Who stayed here … with me.
When he was someone else. Could still be someone else. Someone with power, status. New York. Two sisters. And a forgotten fiancé. People to love him.
But he lived a life here. To love me. For two years.
How much longer can he take? How much more can he wait?
His hand caresses my cheek. He wipes away my tears.
He’s as gentle as ever.
His eyes are forever intense.
He knows my answer. “I don’t ...”
He knows but he doesn’t listen. He won’t hear it. Because it’s not what he wants.
Is it what I want?
He holds me with both hands while I sit on the edge of the bed.
Is this it?
He starts slow. Unbearably slow. It’s always been this way … gentle touches that burn my body. Silent promises of passion.
I’ve waited for this. I’ve yearned for it. Has he?
His hands still.
My eyes open to watch him while he stares back.
No. No yearning. No waiting. He’s tired of waiting. “Are you happy?” he asks.
I stare. I want him. I need him. My body burns for him. He knows this. But it’s not what he wants. Not right now. Right now, he asks questions. “Are you?”
Does he need to ask twice?
“No.”
Silence.
He stands. He stares down at me. He nods his head. “That’s all I needed to know.”
And he leaves.
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Chapter Thirty One:
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“Pack a bag. Come to New York with me.”
We got home ten minutes ago.
Thanksgiving dinner was uneventful. Polite.
Maria didn’t come home with us. She took her brother’s car to go out. With a friend, she had said.
I’m thinking Max told her to take his car. So we could have this moment.
Together.
He rode back to the apartment with me in my car. Our apartment.
The ride was slow.
He didn’t say a word. Until now.
I sit down on the bed. Our bed.
He stands before me.
I can’t look at him. But I ask, “When are you leaving?”
He’s quiet. “In the morning. I have to go.”
I nod. I knew. He always has to go.
Is this what I wanted?
He stays waiting. He’s always waited. I think he’s tired of waiting now.
Life goes on.
Go with him to New York …
I’ve waited for this. I’ve anticipated it. It’s run through my mind, while I tried not to think about it. While life passed me by.
But his life goes on.
He kneels before me. He makes me look at him.
Even though I don’t want to.
Because I’ll see my Max, the man who married me two years ago … to take away my pain. Who stayed here … with me.
When he was someone else. Could still be someone else. Someone with power, status. New York. Two sisters. And a forgotten fiancé. People to love him.
But he lived a life here. To love me. For two years.
How much longer can he take? How much more can he wait?
His hand caresses my cheek. He wipes away my tears.
He’s as gentle as ever.
His eyes are forever intense.
He knows my answer. “I don’t ...”
He knows but he doesn’t listen. He won’t hear it. Because it’s not what he wants.
Is it what I want?
He holds me with both hands while I sit on the edge of the bed.
Is this it?
He starts slow. Unbearably slow. It’s always been this way … gentle touches that burn my body. Silent promises of passion.
I’ve waited for this. I’ve yearned for it. Has he?
His hands still.
My eyes open to watch him while he stares back.
No. No yearning. No waiting. He’s tired of waiting. “Are you happy?” he asks.
I stare. I want him. I need him. My body burns for him. He knows this. But it’s not what he wants. Not right now. Right now, he asks questions. “Are you?”
Does he need to ask twice?
“No.”
Silence.
He stands. He stares down at me. He nods his head. “That’s all I needed to know.”
And he leaves.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 7:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Chapter Thirty Two:
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Maria came home late last night. Or early the next morning.
“Oh. I didn’t think you’d be up,” she said.
She found me sitting on the sofa. Where I’ve been all night.
“Where’s Maxwell?” she asks, looking around the room.
I shrug my shoulders. “Gone.” Since last night. He didn’t say where.
“But I have his car,” she dangles the keys in her hand.
He didn’t need his car. “He took mine.”
I watch Maria shake her head, dropping down onto the loveseat. “What’s going on between the two of you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know the answer.
“I think you’re both just nuts,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What did he say? Did he ask you to go to New York again?”
I nod my answer.
“And you said no?” she looks at me with one eyebrow raised.
I shake my head. He asked. But I didn’t say no.
“But you didn’t say yes either.” She makes the statement, rolling her eyes again. She knows.
Max asked. I didn’t say no. But I hadn’t said yes either.
I don’t know what I want.
I wanted Max. And he knew. But he left. In my car.
“New York isn’t bad.” Maria’s expression is serious, somber. She speaks softly and slowly. She’s being adult right now. She’s trying to force her words to sink into my head. I know her game. “Not that it isn’t nice here and all. It’s just … it’s nice in New York too.”
She sounds like she misses it.
I nod.
She yawns.
“Anyway, I’m beat.” She closes her eyes and leans her head on the armrest of the loveseat. “Oh, and, please don’t tell Mawellx how late I got in.”
I nod.
Her eyes open again. She’s waiting for me to vacate the sofa, which has been her bed since she arrived.
I tell her to take the bedroom.
She does so gladly.
I stare at the balcony door.
I start for it, but stop myself.
Life goes by quickly out there.
Maybe … a little too quickly.
But this … this is all I’ve ever known. It’s comforting. It’s nice.
But so is New York. Or so Maria said.
I take my seat back on the sofa.
My balcony. His fireplace. Sunday tea. Coffee Monday. It’s all I’ve ever known.
The phone rings three times before I answer it.
“Liz?” his voice sounds sleepy. It sounds rough and slurred. Max’s voice isn’t normally like this.
It’s early. But Max is a morning person. I would know. I am his wife.
He isn’t calling from his cell phone. I don’t recognize the number.
“I’m at a hotel. I met up with Michael Guerin for a drink in the bar downstairs,” he groans out.
He didn’t have to say which Michael. I’ve known Michael longer than I have Max. I used to work with Michael at his father’s law firm. It’s how I met Max. He used to work there too. Used to.
“I had too many and decided it best to get a room,” he explains.
“Oh.” It’s all I can say.
“Will you pick me up?” he sounds exhausted. It isn’t like him.
Nervousness comes over me. I’m not sure why. But my grip on the receiver tightens. “You have my car.”
“Take mine. Maria is home, isn’t she? In one piece?” he sounds worried. He should be. Maria is his sister.
I nod my head. “Yes.”
He tells me the name of the hotel and the room number.
He almost hangs up. I almost let him.
But I couldn’t help the question coming from me. “Why were you meeting with Michael?”
There’s a pause. He sounds awake now. “I was thinking about getting my job back.”
New York. Multi-million dollar shipping firm. His power. His life. His family. “But …”
He sounds annoyed.
I’ve annoyed him. I didn’t mean to. “You’re my wife. And believe it or not, your happiness, or lack of, does affect me. If you won’t go to New York-”
“I’ll go.” It’s nice there, Maria said.
He pauses. He’s thinking. “Is that what you want?”
My grip on the receiver tightens. “I don’t … I …”
“Come here,” he says. He repeats the hotel name and the room number.
I hang up the phone. I pick up his keys.
He wants me with him.
I didn’t say no.
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Chapter Thirty Two:
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Maria came home late last night. Or early the next morning.
“Oh. I didn’t think you’d be up,” she said.
She found me sitting on the sofa. Where I’ve been all night.
“Where’s Maxwell?” she asks, looking around the room.
I shrug my shoulders. “Gone.” Since last night. He didn’t say where.
“But I have his car,” she dangles the keys in her hand.
He didn’t need his car. “He took mine.”
I watch Maria shake her head, dropping down onto the loveseat. “What’s going on between the two of you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know the answer.
“I think you’re both just nuts,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What did he say? Did he ask you to go to New York again?”
I nod my answer.
“And you said no?” she looks at me with one eyebrow raised.
I shake my head. He asked. But I didn’t say no.
“But you didn’t say yes either.” She makes the statement, rolling her eyes again. She knows.
Max asked. I didn’t say no. But I hadn’t said yes either.
I don’t know what I want.
I wanted Max. And he knew. But he left. In my car.
“New York isn’t bad.” Maria’s expression is serious, somber. She speaks softly and slowly. She’s being adult right now. She’s trying to force her words to sink into my head. I know her game. “Not that it isn’t nice here and all. It’s just … it’s nice in New York too.”
She sounds like she misses it.
I nod.
She yawns.
“Anyway, I’m beat.” She closes her eyes and leans her head on the armrest of the loveseat. “Oh, and, please don’t tell Mawellx how late I got in.”
I nod.
Her eyes open again. She’s waiting for me to vacate the sofa, which has been her bed since she arrived.
I tell her to take the bedroom.
She does so gladly.
I stare at the balcony door.
I start for it, but stop myself.
Life goes by quickly out there.
Maybe … a little too quickly.
But this … this is all I’ve ever known. It’s comforting. It’s nice.
But so is New York. Or so Maria said.
I take my seat back on the sofa.
My balcony. His fireplace. Sunday tea. Coffee Monday. It’s all I’ve ever known.
The phone rings three times before I answer it.
“Liz?” his voice sounds sleepy. It sounds rough and slurred. Max’s voice isn’t normally like this.
It’s early. But Max is a morning person. I would know. I am his wife.
He isn’t calling from his cell phone. I don’t recognize the number.
“I’m at a hotel. I met up with Michael Guerin for a drink in the bar downstairs,” he groans out.
He didn’t have to say which Michael. I’ve known Michael longer than I have Max. I used to work with Michael at his father’s law firm. It’s how I met Max. He used to work there too. Used to.
“I had too many and decided it best to get a room,” he explains.
“Oh.” It’s all I can say.
“Will you pick me up?” he sounds exhausted. It isn’t like him.
Nervousness comes over me. I’m not sure why. But my grip on the receiver tightens. “You have my car.”
“Take mine. Maria is home, isn’t she? In one piece?” he sounds worried. He should be. Maria is his sister.
I nod my head. “Yes.”
He tells me the name of the hotel and the room number.
He almost hangs up. I almost let him.
But I couldn’t help the question coming from me. “Why were you meeting with Michael?”
There’s a pause. He sounds awake now. “I was thinking about getting my job back.”
New York. Multi-million dollar shipping firm. His power. His life. His family. “But …”
He sounds annoyed.
I’ve annoyed him. I didn’t mean to. “You’re my wife. And believe it or not, your happiness, or lack of, does affect me. If you won’t go to New York-”
“I’ll go.” It’s nice there, Maria said.
He pauses. He’s thinking. “Is that what you want?”
My grip on the receiver tightens. “I don’t … I …”
“Come here,” he says. He repeats the hotel name and the room number.
I hang up the phone. I pick up his keys.
He wants me with him.
I didn’t say no.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 7:48 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Thirty Three:
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“Are you meeting with that girl for coffee today?”
I nod my answer.
He nods back, watching me put my clothes back on.
Is it strange that I should feel self-conscious still? After two years?
I finish slipping on my shoes.
I don’t notice him getting off the bed. I don’t notice until he walks past me.
He wears nothing. Apparently Max isn’t as self-conscious as I am.
He goes into the bathroom, where he was when I first walked into the room.
That’s why he didn’t hear me knock.
His hotel room was easy to find.
It was at the top floor.
The elevator ride up just seemed slow.
There was a ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging on the handle.
I knocked twice.
He didn’t answer.
But the door was unlocked.
I walked inside the room. I heard the water turn off in the bathroom.
I closed the door behind me and he came out.
He had a towel on.
It didn’t stay on long.
He didn’t look as tired as he sounded on the phone.
I think he was waiting for me.
I sat in the desk chair.
He sat on the bed, facing me.
I didn’t stay seated long.
I think he made the first move. He always makes the first move.
He pulled me to him.
Before I knew what was happening, my clothes were on the floor, his lips were on my skin, my fingers were running down his back.
I think I needed this. I think he knew it.
He pulled away from me. He removed his towel. And then nothing came between us.
He wasn’t tired like he sounded earlier, on the phone. He wasn’t tired at all.
I felt his hunger. I felt his need.
Did he feel mine?
I felt his touch heat my body. I felt him, right down to the core.
Frenzied passion. Insatiable need.
Had it always been like this?
Yes.
Max was always tender. Always attentive. Always loving. In bed.
Always.
But this time it was different.
I didn’t say the words.
Three little words.
He didn’t make me say them, before he gave in to my desire.
But I hadn’t even noticed until afterwards, when he asked me a question and I nodded my answer. And he watched me dress, before he walked into the bathroom.
Did he not need to hear the words? Or does he already know?
That I love him.
I sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
The sheets were half off the bed.
Max came out fully dressed, expensive suit and all.
He’s leaving again.
He stands before me. He speaks softly. “I have to go.”
I nod. I know.
“The business …” he starts explaining. But he doesn’t need to. “It’s still going to take months of hard work to build it back up to how my father left it. Isabel tried her best, but …”
Multi-million dollar shipping company. It’s something that I don’t think I’ll ever understand.
I think he knows that.
I know it too.
“Is a week enough time?” he asks. It’s the first he’s mentioned of it. Since the phone call this morning.
New York. Moving on …
Panic fills me …
“Two weeks,” he’s nodding his head. His eyes are staring down into me. “Two weeks, okay?”
Is that okay?
Two weeks is nothing.
Two weeks is forever.
Two weeks is a fortnight.
I feel him lean in. I feel him kiss me on the top of my head. “You can pack your things and be ready in two weeks. I’ll have everything waiting for you,” he tells me. He didn’t ask.
But the look on his face shows uncertainty.
Max is always so confident. Always so sure of himself.
New York. Moving on …
I nod my head. “Okay.”
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Chapter Thirty Three:
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“Are you meeting with that girl for coffee today?”
I nod my answer.
He nods back, watching me put my clothes back on.
Is it strange that I should feel self-conscious still? After two years?
I finish slipping on my shoes.
I don’t notice him getting off the bed. I don’t notice until he walks past me.
He wears nothing. Apparently Max isn’t as self-conscious as I am.
He goes into the bathroom, where he was when I first walked into the room.
That’s why he didn’t hear me knock.
His hotel room was easy to find.
It was at the top floor.
The elevator ride up just seemed slow.
There was a ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging on the handle.
I knocked twice.
He didn’t answer.
But the door was unlocked.
I walked inside the room. I heard the water turn off in the bathroom.
I closed the door behind me and he came out.
He had a towel on.
It didn’t stay on long.
He didn’t look as tired as he sounded on the phone.
I think he was waiting for me.
I sat in the desk chair.
He sat on the bed, facing me.
I didn’t stay seated long.
I think he made the first move. He always makes the first move.
He pulled me to him.
Before I knew what was happening, my clothes were on the floor, his lips were on my skin, my fingers were running down his back.
I think I needed this. I think he knew it.
He pulled away from me. He removed his towel. And then nothing came between us.
He wasn’t tired like he sounded earlier, on the phone. He wasn’t tired at all.
I felt his hunger. I felt his need.
Did he feel mine?
I felt his touch heat my body. I felt him, right down to the core.
Frenzied passion. Insatiable need.
Had it always been like this?
Yes.
Max was always tender. Always attentive. Always loving. In bed.
Always.
But this time it was different.
I didn’t say the words.
Three little words.
He didn’t make me say them, before he gave in to my desire.
But I hadn’t even noticed until afterwards, when he asked me a question and I nodded my answer. And he watched me dress, before he walked into the bathroom.
Did he not need to hear the words? Or does he already know?
That I love him.
I sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
The sheets were half off the bed.
Max came out fully dressed, expensive suit and all.
He’s leaving again.
He stands before me. He speaks softly. “I have to go.”
I nod. I know.
“The business …” he starts explaining. But he doesn’t need to. “It’s still going to take months of hard work to build it back up to how my father left it. Isabel tried her best, but …”
Multi-million dollar shipping company. It’s something that I don’t think I’ll ever understand.
I think he knows that.
I know it too.
“Is a week enough time?” he asks. It’s the first he’s mentioned of it. Since the phone call this morning.
New York. Moving on …
Panic fills me …
“Two weeks,” he’s nodding his head. His eyes are staring down into me. “Two weeks, okay?”
Is that okay?
Two weeks is nothing.
Two weeks is forever.
Two weeks is a fortnight.
I feel him lean in. I feel him kiss me on the top of my head. “You can pack your things and be ready in two weeks. I’ll have everything waiting for you,” he tells me. He didn’t ask.
But the look on his face shows uncertainty.
Max is always so confident. Always so sure of himself.
New York. Moving on …
I nod my head. “Okay.”
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 7:53 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Chapter Thirty Four:
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I had two weeks to get ready, he said.
Two weeks.
He left on a plane this morning.
Almost like he was never here.
I was early. I sat outside at our table.
My car is parked next to Max’s. It’s Maria’s car now. He gave it to her.
Multimillion dollar shipping company. A car means nothing to him now. Dispensable. Like I’m sure a lot of things are that were in his life.
She’s working today. Maria. Instead of the other girl that’s usually behind the counter. Tess.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her at work. She seems like she likes it. But it’s hard to tell. She’s fickle. It’s a teenage thing.
“Sorry,” Laurie says, walking out with a holder carrying her usual three cups of coffee. “The malls were packed like crazy. Did you get any shopping in?”
I shake my head.
She starts on her first cup. “Earth to Liz,” she says that a lot. “The day after Thanksgiving sale.” She says it like it should mean something to me.
It doesn’t.
“So, how was your Thanksgiving?” she asks with a quirked eyebrow and smirking lips.
“Max was there,” I tell her what she really wants to know.
She pretends like she doesn’t care. “Guess who I have a date with tonight.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Michael Guerin.”
Many thoughts cross my mind.
“I met him at a bar and gave him my number. He’s taking me out to a fancy restaurant tonight.” She’s trying to brag.
I smile at her. I don’t really care.
I know Michael. Max worked with him at Michael’s father’s law firm. I worked there before Max did.
Michael is a flirt.
Laurie is his type.
“A hotshot lawyer that’s going to end up inheriting his rich daddy’s business,” she smiles to herself. “I think I’m going to try to hook this one good.”
She’ll get hurt. Concern for her crosses my mind. After all, she’s my best friend. Or so she says.
She’s on her second cup. “You think I can persuade him into a quickie marriage like you did with Max?”
Two weeks.
It seemed longer then.
I’m not so sure now.
The conversation continues. I half listen.
Her third cup is on the ground before she stands up. “Well, I have to go get my nails done. I have to look good for tonight. Wish me luck. Not that I’ll need it,” she winks before she walks away.
Maria comes out once Laurie drove off.
She sits down with me.
“Now I know why Tess wanted to switch shifts with me,” she says, rolls her eyes and kicks one of Laurie’s littered coffee cups.
“So … New York.” There’s a different tone in her voice. “You’ll like it. It’s nice.”
She’s said this to me before. I don’t comment.
She keeps talking. “Yeah. Maxwell said that I could stay here if I want.”
I nod. I heard Max’s end of their phone conversation this morning, when I dropped him off. He gave her his car.
“He said this is a nice place to ‘find myself’,” she rolls her eyes at the words.
Is that what he did? Find himself? In a one bedroom apartment and a quickie marriage?
She sees a group of girls enter the coffee shop. She makes a face. “I have to get back to work.”
I nod. I stand up with her.
“Oh.” She turns back towards me. “Your mother called this morning, while you were away. She wants you to meet with her soon. She says it’s important.”
Everything is important to my mother. She likes to be overdramatic.
I meet with her for tea on Sundays.
I wait for Maria to leave first. But she stands there, staring at me, with something on her mind.
“Look, Liz,” she’s having one of her serious toned, adult moments. “I know you’re going to be with him again in like, two weeks. And I know that communication isn’t exactly your forte. He hasn’t said anything to me or anything like that, but, knowing my brother, it would mean the world to him if you would just … I don’t know … pick up the phone and exchange a few words with him now and then.”
She leaves then.
I sit back down in my chair.
It would mean the world to him, she said.
I check the time on my cell phone.
Max’s plane won’t land for another three hours.
I stand up.
I have two weeks, he said. To get ready. Maybe I should start now.
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Chapter Thirty Four:
-------------------------------------------------
I had two weeks to get ready, he said.
Two weeks.
He left on a plane this morning.
Almost like he was never here.
I was early. I sat outside at our table.
My car is parked next to Max’s. It’s Maria’s car now. He gave it to her.
Multimillion dollar shipping company. A car means nothing to him now. Dispensable. Like I’m sure a lot of things are that were in his life.
She’s working today. Maria. Instead of the other girl that’s usually behind the counter. Tess.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her at work. She seems like she likes it. But it’s hard to tell. She’s fickle. It’s a teenage thing.
“Sorry,” Laurie says, walking out with a holder carrying her usual three cups of coffee. “The malls were packed like crazy. Did you get any shopping in?”
I shake my head.
She starts on her first cup. “Earth to Liz,” she says that a lot. “The day after Thanksgiving sale.” She says it like it should mean something to me.
It doesn’t.
“So, how was your Thanksgiving?” she asks with a quirked eyebrow and smirking lips.
“Max was there,” I tell her what she really wants to know.
She pretends like she doesn’t care. “Guess who I have a date with tonight.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Michael Guerin.”
Many thoughts cross my mind.
“I met him at a bar and gave him my number. He’s taking me out to a fancy restaurant tonight.” She’s trying to brag.
I smile at her. I don’t really care.
I know Michael. Max worked with him at Michael’s father’s law firm. I worked there before Max did.
Michael is a flirt.
Laurie is his type.
“A hotshot lawyer that’s going to end up inheriting his rich daddy’s business,” she smiles to herself. “I think I’m going to try to hook this one good.”
She’ll get hurt. Concern for her crosses my mind. After all, she’s my best friend. Or so she says.
She’s on her second cup. “You think I can persuade him into a quickie marriage like you did with Max?”
Two weeks.
It seemed longer then.
I’m not so sure now.
The conversation continues. I half listen.
Her third cup is on the ground before she stands up. “Well, I have to go get my nails done. I have to look good for tonight. Wish me luck. Not that I’ll need it,” she winks before she walks away.
Maria comes out once Laurie drove off.
She sits down with me.
“Now I know why Tess wanted to switch shifts with me,” she says, rolls her eyes and kicks one of Laurie’s littered coffee cups.
“So … New York.” There’s a different tone in her voice. “You’ll like it. It’s nice.”
She’s said this to me before. I don’t comment.
She keeps talking. “Yeah. Maxwell said that I could stay here if I want.”
I nod. I heard Max’s end of their phone conversation this morning, when I dropped him off. He gave her his car.
“He said this is a nice place to ‘find myself’,” she rolls her eyes at the words.
Is that what he did? Find himself? In a one bedroom apartment and a quickie marriage?
She sees a group of girls enter the coffee shop. She makes a face. “I have to get back to work.”
I nod. I stand up with her.
“Oh.” She turns back towards me. “Your mother called this morning, while you were away. She wants you to meet with her soon. She says it’s important.”
Everything is important to my mother. She likes to be overdramatic.
I meet with her for tea on Sundays.
I wait for Maria to leave first. But she stands there, staring at me, with something on her mind.
“Look, Liz,” she’s having one of her serious toned, adult moments. “I know you’re going to be with him again in like, two weeks. And I know that communication isn’t exactly your forte. He hasn’t said anything to me or anything like that, but, knowing my brother, it would mean the world to him if you would just … I don’t know … pick up the phone and exchange a few words with him now and then.”
She leaves then.
I sit back down in my chair.
It would mean the world to him, she said.
I check the time on my cell phone.
Max’s plane won’t land for another three hours.
I stand up.
I have two weeks, he said. To get ready. Maybe I should start now.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 7:58 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Chapter Thirty Five:
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I arrived at my mother’s house at four. The ten missed calls on my cell phone and the three messages on my answering machine made me think that maybe what she had to say really was important.
She sat down with me at the kitchen table.
She stayed silent for a long time, thinking, before she finally started talking.
“I guess you’ll have noticed that, um, Richard is back in my life,” she stares at the table while she talks. It’s strange. My mother is usually the confronting type. I think she enjoys it.
“I wondered if you minded him being here yesterday, for Thanksgiving.” She says this even though she didn’t mind enough to tell me beforehand that he was going to be there.
“Anyway, um …” she’s hesitating. It’s odd. My mother is more calculating than this. Maybe I should have waited until Sunday. Then she would have had more time to plan this out.
She looks towards the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”
I shake my head. My hands lay flat on the table. “What’s going on?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath. She looks at me straight on. “Richard asked me to marry him. I said yes.”
I lean back in my seat.
Thoughts cross my mind.
Her face is hard. She’s getting defensive. “He’s a nice man.”
It wasn’t long ago that he was a womanizing bastard.
“He wants to take care of me. And I want him to too,” she’s almost lecturing.
I close my eyes.
She keeps on going. “It’s been over two years since your father died and I think that I’m entitled to-”
“No.” My eyes open and I stare at her.
Her nostrils flare. She’s angry. “You’re being hypocritical, Elizabeth. Didn’t you do the same thing?”
I watch her.
“Your father died and then Max shows up wanting to take care of you and you let him. Why can’t I have Richard?”
I shake my head. “It’s not the same thing.” It isn’t. Max is … and my father was … I shake my head again. “If you loved my father at all, you wouldn’t-”
“I loved your father with all my heart, Elizabeth!” She’s standing up. She’s screaming down at me. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m supposed to mourn for the rest of my life. It doesn’t mean that I can’t try to love someone else.”
I shake my head again. And I can’t look at her. “If it had been the other way around-”
“Your father did the exact same thing, so don’t you go trying to put him on this higher pedestal than me. We’re human, Liz.”
Her words replay in my mind, Your father did the exact same thing.
I stare at her. “What?”
Her eyes widen. She sits back down in her seat slowly. She sighs.
I stare at her. “What do you mean?”
Her arms are on the table before her. There’s silence while she thinks up her words. Silence before she looks at me again, with a different tone in her voice. “Your father was married one other time before he married me. Her name was Claudia.”
She watches me closely. I try to take this in. “She died shortly after giving birth to you. I met your father a year later. And I fell in love with him and with you. You needed a mother. And I wanted to be that for you. So your father and I married six months later. And we became a happy family.”
Thoughts ambush my mind.
“Elizabeth?”
Claudia. Claudia Parker
“Lizzie?”
I look up. That’s what my father used to call me.
She’s sitting straight. She’s hesitant. “I didn’t mean to tell you like this. Your father …” she pauses. There’re tears in her eyes. “He wanted to be the one to tell you. But I guess he never got around to doing it.”
I stand up. I have to go.
“Look,” she stands up too. “The reason why I wanted to talk to you was because I wanted you to help me with the wedding. I want you to be there for me … support me through this.”
I turn away.
And walk into the kitchen.
I pick up the phone and dial the number. I know it by heart.
It rings four times. He doesn’t answer.
I wait.
I dial another number. It’s long distance.
He picks up after two rings. “This is Maxwell Evans.”
He sounds distracted. He sounds busy.
“Hello,” his voice is clearer now.
There’s a pause. He speaks again, “Liz? Maria? Hello?”
He hangs up.
I leave then, through the front door.
My mother … she still sits at the kitchen table.
I sit in my car. The engine on. My eyes closed.
I hear a buzzing beside me.
I open up my purse and the ringing is louder.
I push the button before I hold it to my ear.
“Liz?” he sounds frantic. “Did you call me?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Is something wrong? What happened?” He sounds worried.
I don’t usually call him.
He knows this. After all, he’s my husband.
“Liz?” his voice gets louder. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
I shake my head. I can’t think.
“Are you hurt? Did something happen?” his words are rushed together. “Do you need me to come home?”
I shake my head. I can’t think.
“I’m coming home, okay?”
“No!” I close my eyes. And try to think.
“What’s going on?”
Hearing his voice helps me.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and breathe. “Nothing. I just … nothing.”
“Are you sure?” He doesn’t believe me.
I don’t believe me either.
But I nod my head. “Yes.”
He was just here.
“If you’re sure.” He hesitates.
I put my seatbelt on.
“It shouldn’t take you too long to pack.” He pauses again.
Why did I call him?
“When you get the chance,” he adds in, “you should get Doctor Davis to refer you to someone up here.”
I nod. He sighs. “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”
I nod. Soon
He hangs up.
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Chapter Thirty Five:
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I arrived at my mother’s house at four. The ten missed calls on my cell phone and the three messages on my answering machine made me think that maybe what she had to say really was important.
She sat down with me at the kitchen table.
She stayed silent for a long time, thinking, before she finally started talking.
“I guess you’ll have noticed that, um, Richard is back in my life,” she stares at the table while she talks. It’s strange. My mother is usually the confronting type. I think she enjoys it.
“I wondered if you minded him being here yesterday, for Thanksgiving.” She says this even though she didn’t mind enough to tell me beforehand that he was going to be there.
“Anyway, um …” she’s hesitating. It’s odd. My mother is more calculating than this. Maybe I should have waited until Sunday. Then she would have had more time to plan this out.
She looks towards the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”
I shake my head. My hands lay flat on the table. “What’s going on?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath. She looks at me straight on. “Richard asked me to marry him. I said yes.”
I lean back in my seat.
Thoughts cross my mind.
Her face is hard. She’s getting defensive. “He’s a nice man.”
It wasn’t long ago that he was a womanizing bastard.
“He wants to take care of me. And I want him to too,” she’s almost lecturing.
I close my eyes.
She keeps on going. “It’s been over two years since your father died and I think that I’m entitled to-”
“No.” My eyes open and I stare at her.
Her nostrils flare. She’s angry. “You’re being hypocritical, Elizabeth. Didn’t you do the same thing?”
I watch her.
“Your father died and then Max shows up wanting to take care of you and you let him. Why can’t I have Richard?”
I shake my head. “It’s not the same thing.” It isn’t. Max is … and my father was … I shake my head again. “If you loved my father at all, you wouldn’t-”
“I loved your father with all my heart, Elizabeth!” She’s standing up. She’s screaming down at me. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m supposed to mourn for the rest of my life. It doesn’t mean that I can’t try to love someone else.”
I shake my head again. And I can’t look at her. “If it had been the other way around-”
“Your father did the exact same thing, so don’t you go trying to put him on this higher pedestal than me. We’re human, Liz.”
Her words replay in my mind, Your father did the exact same thing.
I stare at her. “What?”
Her eyes widen. She sits back down in her seat slowly. She sighs.
I stare at her. “What do you mean?”
Her arms are on the table before her. There’s silence while she thinks up her words. Silence before she looks at me again, with a different tone in her voice. “Your father was married one other time before he married me. Her name was Claudia.”
She watches me closely. I try to take this in. “She died shortly after giving birth to you. I met your father a year later. And I fell in love with him and with you. You needed a mother. And I wanted to be that for you. So your father and I married six months later. And we became a happy family.”
Thoughts ambush my mind.
“Elizabeth?”
Claudia. Claudia Parker
“Lizzie?”
I look up. That’s what my father used to call me.
She’s sitting straight. She’s hesitant. “I didn’t mean to tell you like this. Your father …” she pauses. There’re tears in her eyes. “He wanted to be the one to tell you. But I guess he never got around to doing it.”
I stand up. I have to go.
“Look,” she stands up too. “The reason why I wanted to talk to you was because I wanted you to help me with the wedding. I want you to be there for me … support me through this.”
I turn away.
And walk into the kitchen.
I pick up the phone and dial the number. I know it by heart.
It rings four times. He doesn’t answer.
I wait.
I dial another number. It’s long distance.
He picks up after two rings. “This is Maxwell Evans.”
He sounds distracted. He sounds busy.
“Hello,” his voice is clearer now.
There’s a pause. He speaks again, “Liz? Maria? Hello?”
He hangs up.
I leave then, through the front door.
My mother … she still sits at the kitchen table.
I sit in my car. The engine on. My eyes closed.
I hear a buzzing beside me.
I open up my purse and the ringing is louder.
I push the button before I hold it to my ear.
“Liz?” he sounds frantic. “Did you call me?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Is something wrong? What happened?” He sounds worried.
I don’t usually call him.
He knows this. After all, he’s my husband.
“Liz?” his voice gets louder. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
I shake my head. I can’t think.
“Are you hurt? Did something happen?” his words are rushed together. “Do you need me to come home?”
I shake my head. I can’t think.
“I’m coming home, okay?”
“No!” I close my eyes. And try to think.
“What’s going on?”
Hearing his voice helps me.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and breathe. “Nothing. I just … nothing.”
“Are you sure?” He doesn’t believe me.
I don’t believe me either.
But I nod my head. “Yes.”
He was just here.
“If you’re sure.” He hesitates.
I put my seatbelt on.
“It shouldn’t take you too long to pack.” He pauses again.
Why did I call him?
“When you get the chance,” he adds in, “you should get Doctor Davis to refer you to someone up here.”
I nod. He sighs. “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”
I nod. Soon
He hangs up.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:05 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Chapter Thirty Six:
-------------------------------------------------
“Maxwell called me. He sounded freaked out,” Maria says when I come back out, dressed from my shower.
It’s Saturday morning.
I spent it in the park. Jogging.
I nod. I know.
I called him yesterday. I don’t normally do that.
“So, everything is okay?” she asks.
It sounds like he’s having her keep tabs on me.
Is that why she’s here?
I nod. She moves on.
“Have you started packing yet?” she asks.
Packing …
He said he’d give me two weeks.
Two weeks, he said.
I don’t answer.
Maria moves on. “Your mother called.”
She gives me this look. Like I should know what’s going on.
I do.
It’s that she’s not my mother. She’s my step-mother.
And she’s getting married.
To Richard.
“She wanted to see if you were okay,” Maria keeps talking. “If you had calmed down since yesterday.”
I grab my bag and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Maria asks.
“I have to see someone.” It’s all I can say.
--------------
The drive there has never felt this long.
I didn’t stop for coffee.
This isn’t my normal day to be here.
But I’m not here for him. I’m here for her.
I counted the paces as I walked up.
I sat in my usual seat, on the bench made of cement. But I don’t look at him. I look at her.
Claudia Parker.
I never paid attention. I never took notice.
I never saw past my father.
If I had, maybe I would have seen. If I had read the words, maybe I would have understood.
Claudia Parker
Loving Wife and Mother
Has she always been here? Right under my nose?
She was born two years after my father. She died twenty one years before him.
I never knew her. My mother.
I hear footsteps. She sits beside me. I didn’t expect to see her again so soon. On Sundays, we have tea together.
She doesn’t say a word. It’s odd. It’s comforting. It’s silent.
We sit and stare at the tombstones before us, my father’s and my mother’s.
We sit.
Half an hour later, she puts her hand on mine.
Half an hour since she first sat down, and I finally look at her.
She looks tired. She seems sad. Her eyes are closed. Tears fall down her cheeks.
I squeeze her hand. My mother.
She lets me comfort her.
We mourn, together.
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Chapter Thirty Six:
-------------------------------------------------
“Maxwell called me. He sounded freaked out,” Maria says when I come back out, dressed from my shower.
It’s Saturday morning.
I spent it in the park. Jogging.
I nod. I know.
I called him yesterday. I don’t normally do that.
“So, everything is okay?” she asks.
It sounds like he’s having her keep tabs on me.
Is that why she’s here?
I nod. She moves on.
“Have you started packing yet?” she asks.
Packing …
He said he’d give me two weeks.
Two weeks, he said.
I don’t answer.
Maria moves on. “Your mother called.”
She gives me this look. Like I should know what’s going on.
I do.
It’s that she’s not my mother. She’s my step-mother.
And she’s getting married.
To Richard.
“She wanted to see if you were okay,” Maria keeps talking. “If you had calmed down since yesterday.”
I grab my bag and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Maria asks.
“I have to see someone.” It’s all I can say.
--------------
The drive there has never felt this long.
I didn’t stop for coffee.
This isn’t my normal day to be here.
But I’m not here for him. I’m here for her.
I counted the paces as I walked up.
I sat in my usual seat, on the bench made of cement. But I don’t look at him. I look at her.
Claudia Parker.
I never paid attention. I never took notice.
I never saw past my father.
If I had, maybe I would have seen. If I had read the words, maybe I would have understood.
Claudia Parker
Loving Wife and Mother
Has she always been here? Right under my nose?
She was born two years after my father. She died twenty one years before him.
I never knew her. My mother.
I hear footsteps. She sits beside me. I didn’t expect to see her again so soon. On Sundays, we have tea together.
She doesn’t say a word. It’s odd. It’s comforting. It’s silent.
We sit and stare at the tombstones before us, my father’s and my mother’s.
We sit.
Half an hour later, she puts her hand on mine.
Half an hour since she first sat down, and I finally look at her.
She looks tired. She seems sad. Her eyes are closed. Tears fall down her cheeks.
I squeeze her hand. My mother.
She lets me comfort her.
We mourn, together.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:08 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Chapter Thirty Seven:
-------------------------------------------------
“Oh, this one is pretty,” Maria gushes. It’s a teenager thing.
“I thought so too,” my mother agrees.
They’re flipping through wedding magazines.
It’s Sunday. We’re having tea. Maria came along.
She’s here, while my mother plans her wedding.
To Richard.
Two teas. One coffee.
“Well, it’s been fun, ladies,” Maria stands from the table. “But I have to get to work. I’ll see you at home, Liz.”
I nod.
She leaves out the front door.
My mother watches me. “So, have you finished packing, yet?”
I eye her. How did she know?
“Maria told me,” she reads my mind. “I think this is good for you, Liz. I think you need a change. Go be with your husband.”
My husband.
Multi-million dollar shipping company. New York.
“Max is rich,” I say. Is that why she wants me to go?
I sip my tea.
She makes a disapproving face. It’s a mother thing. “So is Alex, but that’s not why I kept pushing you towards him.”
I look at her, pointedly.
Funny, I thought that was exactly why.
She has a hurt look on her face. My mother likes to be overly dramatic. “It’s because you seemed happier back then. You smiled more with Alex.”
I shrug.
She gets upset. Exasperated. “You’re not giving Max a fair shot. He’s trying, Liz. At least, meet him halfway.”
I watch her. I say, “You hate Max.”
“I don’t hate him …” she says, staring into her tea. She sighs. “Did I tell you I took a little trip up to New York two days before Thanksgiving?”
I look at her. And I shake my head.
She sighs another overly dramatic sigh. “I was upset and it was an impulsive thing to do, but … you know how I get around the holidays.”
Yes. I know how she gets around the holidays.
“Everyone deserves happiness around the holidays. So I thought I’d go up there to–”
“Interfere.”
It’s what she does. After all, she’s my mother, though not genetically.
She makes another face. “To let him have a piece of my mind about what I thought he was doing to your marriage … and what he was doing to you.”
She looks at me pointedly.
She’s being cautious with her words.
I sip my tea.
Her voice gets quiet. “You’d have to be an idiot to not know that the boy loves you. I see it now.”
But she hates Max. They’re polite to each other. She wishes I had married Alex. She plays bridge with his mother.
I watch her. I ask what I’ve been wanting to for a while, “Why are you marrying Richard?”
She’s cautious with her words. She takes her time to add cryptic meaning behind them. “I think everyone deserves a second shot at happiness in life. And I think he’s mine.”
Oh.
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Chapter Thirty Seven:
-------------------------------------------------
“Oh, this one is pretty,” Maria gushes. It’s a teenager thing.
“I thought so too,” my mother agrees.
They’re flipping through wedding magazines.
It’s Sunday. We’re having tea. Maria came along.
She’s here, while my mother plans her wedding.
To Richard.
Two teas. One coffee.
“Well, it’s been fun, ladies,” Maria stands from the table. “But I have to get to work. I’ll see you at home, Liz.”
I nod.
She leaves out the front door.
My mother watches me. “So, have you finished packing, yet?”
I eye her. How did she know?
“Maria told me,” she reads my mind. “I think this is good for you, Liz. I think you need a change. Go be with your husband.”
My husband.
Multi-million dollar shipping company. New York.
“Max is rich,” I say. Is that why she wants me to go?
I sip my tea.
She makes a disapproving face. It’s a mother thing. “So is Alex, but that’s not why I kept pushing you towards him.”
I look at her, pointedly.
Funny, I thought that was exactly why.
She has a hurt look on her face. My mother likes to be overly dramatic. “It’s because you seemed happier back then. You smiled more with Alex.”
I shrug.
She gets upset. Exasperated. “You’re not giving Max a fair shot. He’s trying, Liz. At least, meet him halfway.”
I watch her. I say, “You hate Max.”
“I don’t hate him …” she says, staring into her tea. She sighs. “Did I tell you I took a little trip up to New York two days before Thanksgiving?”
I look at her. And I shake my head.
She sighs another overly dramatic sigh. “I was upset and it was an impulsive thing to do, but … you know how I get around the holidays.”
Yes. I know how she gets around the holidays.
“Everyone deserves happiness around the holidays. So I thought I’d go up there to–”
“Interfere.”
It’s what she does. After all, she’s my mother, though not genetically.
She makes another face. “To let him have a piece of my mind about what I thought he was doing to your marriage … and what he was doing to you.”
She looks at me pointedly.
She’s being cautious with her words.
I sip my tea.
Her voice gets quiet. “You’d have to be an idiot to not know that the boy loves you. I see it now.”
But she hates Max. They’re polite to each other. She wishes I had married Alex. She plays bridge with his mother.
I watch her. I ask what I’ve been wanting to for a while, “Why are you marrying Richard?”
She’s cautious with her words. She takes her time to add cryptic meaning behind them. “I think everyone deserves a second shot at happiness in life. And I think he’s mine.”
Oh.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:10 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Chapter Thirty Eight:
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Two weeks were fleeting.
“So, is Max going to come get you today?” Laurie asks.
I ignore her.
It’s Friday. We sit outside. She’s on her second cup.
I’m on my third cigarette.
My mind is troubled. My body is tired.
Is it because of the move? Is it because of New York?
“Earth to Liz. Is Max picking you up today?” she asks again.
“Huh?” I look up at her.
“Earth to Liz,” she says again. She says that a lot. “Aren’t you supposed to leave today? For New York? It’s been two weeks.”
I put out my cigarette.
“Has it?” I ask.
I can’t pay attention to her.
I feel weak.
“You aren’t even packed, are you?” She sounds exasperated.
“I forgot,” I say. I lie. I didn’t forget. I tried to. I couldn’t.
I feel tired.
“Well, you should do it quickly,” she spits out. “Because Little Miss Thing inside there says her brother is coming for you today.”
Little Miss Thing is Maria. Laurie has been calling her that.
Laurie doesn’t like Maria. Maria gives her attitude. It’s a teenager thing.
Maria doesn’t like Laurie.
Neither did Max, my husband.
Has it been two weeks already?
Laurie finishes her third cup.
I light another cigarette.
She stands. “Well, I have to get going. I’ve got another date with Michael tonight.”
I lift my head to that.
It’s been two weeks.
She leaves.
Maria comes out.
“God, she’s such a bitch,” Maria says.
She’s talking about Laurie.
She sits down in the seat across from me. She takes one of the cigarettes off the table and lights it.
I stare.
That’s bad for her. It’s illegal. Max wouldn’t approve.
“So,” she lets out a puff. “Are you packed yet?”
I stare.
“You shouldn’t be smoking,” I say.
She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Neither should you.”
Touché, Maria.
She checks her watch. She puts out the cigarette. “Work.”
She picks up Laurie’s trash.
“Oh,” she turns back to me. “You should head home, I think Maxwell will be here in another hour or so.”
An hour?
Shit.
I haven’t packed.
I’m not ready.
Will he be angry? Upset?
I’m not ready.
--------------
The drive home was slow.
I parked in my usual spot.
There’s a car parked in Max’s spot.
It isn’t Maria’s.
I feel weak. I feel tired.
It’s hard to breathe.
He holds the door open for me when I’m halfway up the stairs.
He steps aside.
I walk in.
“You reek of smoke,” he says when I walk past him.
I nod. I know.
Max doesn’t approve of smoking.
He closes the door.
He puts a hand to his forehead.
He’s upset. He’s angry. He’s trying to stay controlled.
My husband.
I sit on the sofa and watch him.
He finally opens his eyes. He stares right at me.
“You aren’t packed,” he says.
He’s upset.
I knew he would be.
“Put your coat on. We’re leaving,” he huffs. He’s turned his back to me.
I sit and watch him for a while longer, before doing as he says.
He holds the door open for me.
I walk through it.
--------------
We’ve been driving for fifteen minutes.
He’s been silently seething for that long.
Until now.
“I can’t begin to describe how upset I am with you right now,” he says to me. But he stares at the road.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.
I’m sorry I’m not packed.
I’m sorry I’m not ready.
He doesn’t answer me.
He keeps driving.
I’ve never upset him to this point before.
He parks the car.
He sits.
His voice is low. He is upset. “Sorry doesn’t cut it right now.”
He gets out.
I follow.
We’re at the hospital.
I stare at him. Questions flood my eyes.
He’s sneering. “Dr. Davis left another message on the machine.”
He’s not even looking at me.
He’s upset. He’s angry.
I don’t want to be here.
Max doesn’t care.
He pulls me inside anyway.
-------------------------------------------------
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-------------------------------------------------
Chapter Thirty Eight:
-------------------------------------------------
Two weeks were fleeting.
“So, is Max going to come get you today?” Laurie asks.
I ignore her.
It’s Friday. We sit outside. She’s on her second cup.
I’m on my third cigarette.
My mind is troubled. My body is tired.
Is it because of the move? Is it because of New York?
“Earth to Liz. Is Max picking you up today?” she asks again.
“Huh?” I look up at her.
“Earth to Liz,” she says again. She says that a lot. “Aren’t you supposed to leave today? For New York? It’s been two weeks.”
I put out my cigarette.
“Has it?” I ask.
I can’t pay attention to her.
I feel weak.
“You aren’t even packed, are you?” She sounds exasperated.
“I forgot,” I say. I lie. I didn’t forget. I tried to. I couldn’t.
I feel tired.
“Well, you should do it quickly,” she spits out. “Because Little Miss Thing inside there says her brother is coming for you today.”
Little Miss Thing is Maria. Laurie has been calling her that.
Laurie doesn’t like Maria. Maria gives her attitude. It’s a teenager thing.
Maria doesn’t like Laurie.
Neither did Max, my husband.
Has it been two weeks already?
Laurie finishes her third cup.
I light another cigarette.
She stands. “Well, I have to get going. I’ve got another date with Michael tonight.”
I lift my head to that.
It’s been two weeks.
She leaves.
Maria comes out.
“God, she’s such a bitch,” Maria says.
She’s talking about Laurie.
She sits down in the seat across from me. She takes one of the cigarettes off the table and lights it.
I stare.
That’s bad for her. It’s illegal. Max wouldn’t approve.
“So,” she lets out a puff. “Are you packed yet?”
I stare.
“You shouldn’t be smoking,” I say.
She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Neither should you.”
Touché, Maria.
She checks her watch. She puts out the cigarette. “Work.”
She picks up Laurie’s trash.
“Oh,” she turns back to me. “You should head home, I think Maxwell will be here in another hour or so.”
An hour?
Shit.
I haven’t packed.
I’m not ready.
Will he be angry? Upset?
I’m not ready.
--------------
The drive home was slow.
I parked in my usual spot.
There’s a car parked in Max’s spot.
It isn’t Maria’s.
I feel weak. I feel tired.
It’s hard to breathe.
He holds the door open for me when I’m halfway up the stairs.
He steps aside.
I walk in.
“You reek of smoke,” he says when I walk past him.
I nod. I know.
Max doesn’t approve of smoking.
He closes the door.
He puts a hand to his forehead.
He’s upset. He’s angry. He’s trying to stay controlled.
My husband.
I sit on the sofa and watch him.
He finally opens his eyes. He stares right at me.
“You aren’t packed,” he says.
He’s upset.
I knew he would be.
“Put your coat on. We’re leaving,” he huffs. He’s turned his back to me.
I sit and watch him for a while longer, before doing as he says.
He holds the door open for me.
I walk through it.
--------------
We’ve been driving for fifteen minutes.
He’s been silently seething for that long.
Until now.
“I can’t begin to describe how upset I am with you right now,” he says to me. But he stares at the road.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.
I’m sorry I’m not packed.
I’m sorry I’m not ready.
He doesn’t answer me.
He keeps driving.
I’ve never upset him to this point before.
He parks the car.
He sits.
His voice is low. He is upset. “Sorry doesn’t cut it right now.”
He gets out.
I follow.
We’re at the hospital.
I stare at him. Questions flood my eyes.
He’s sneering. “Dr. Davis left another message on the machine.”
He’s not even looking at me.
He’s upset. He’s angry.
I don’t want to be here.
Max doesn’t care.
He pulls me inside anyway.
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:14 am, edited 1 time in total.
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Chapter Thirty Nine:
-------------------------------------------------
The room is cold.
The nurse handed me a gown. She asked me to change.
Max took it from her. He tied the gown on me.
I’m cold.
The doctor came in.
He lectured me on not coming in sooner.
He started his examination.
He poked. He prodded.
He started running tests.
He confined me to the bed.
Max left me then. He wanted to speak with the doctor alone.
The room is cold.
The air is stale.
I hate hospitals.
When was the last time I was here? Was it months ago? Was it a year?
Has it been that long?
I feel weak.
The walls close in on me.
I hate hospitals.
The gown is thin.
I’m sitting on the paper covered bed. It is uncomfortable.
I feel cold. Weak.
What have I been doing since then?
I upset Max.
We’re supposed to leave today. New York.
But I’m not ready.
The door opens. Max walks in.
He walks up to me. He’s upset. He stares.
He’s scaring me.
Because he’s upset. At me.
“I am so disappointed in you right now,” he says.
I nod. I know. He doesn’t need to tell me.
I would tell him that I’m sorry, but it won’t help.
It’s not his fault. It’s mine.
The door opens. The doctor comes in. He’s holding a large file. He’s holding x-rays.
He has a frown on his face.
The x-rays are placed up against the light.
He looks to us with another frown. “Your condition is poor, Mrs. Evans,” he says.
The doctor starts explaining. He uses big words.
Aortic valve regurgitation. Ejection fraction. Irrepairable damage.
My head spins.
Echocardiogram. Replacement surgery. Blood thinning medication.
It started as a heart murmur. When did it become this?
Mechanical valves. Tissue valves. Homografts.
Max asks questions. Max seeks answers.
My head spins.
“She’s been very depressed for a long time now,” Max says.
The doctor nods. “Some symptoms your wife may be feeling are shortness of breath, lightheadedness, arrhythmias, chest pain, and fatigue. She shouldn’t be experiencing any severe symptoms at this point. But it gets worse as the aortic valve deteriorates.”
Max nods.
“It’s a good thing you came in when you did, though, I wished you would have come in earlier,” the doctor speaks to me softly. Bedside manners, I think they’re called. “There’s still a lot of hope for you yet, Mrs. Evans. But your ejection fraction has dropped to about fifty percent. Because it’s so low, you’re qualified for the replacement surgery.”
I nod. Big words.
“And because of your young age and because your overall health is fair, the risks typically involved with valve replacement surgery goes down greatly,” the doctor says. “But, like with any surgery, there are always risks involved. However, at this point, I would recommend the surgery.”
“We’ll have the surgery,” Max decides for me. He sits in a chair before me. He’s hands block his face. He stares at nothing.
The doctor nods. “Talk it over with your families. There are always options.”
I nod.
The doctor holds out something to Max. “Here’s the number of psychiatrist that you requested. Dr. Sanchez is one of the best in town.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Max mumbles. He takes the card.
The doctor leaves.
Max stays where he is.
I watch him.
He stares at nothing.
He won’t look at me.
It’s scary.
He stays this way, his head in his hands. For five minutes? For an eternity?
My husband is worried. He is stressed.
But it isn’t his fault. It’s mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s all I can say.
He’s serious. He’s solemn. “You’re having the surgery.”
“I don’t …” I hang my head. It’s too much. It’s too soon.
“Elizabeth.” He touches my cheek, but I can’t look at him. The tears fall. “Honey, I know your father had the same thing.”
Aortic valve regurgitation.
It wasn’t hereditary.
It’s a coincidence.
“But you are younger and healthier than he was,” he argues. He explains. He tries to make me look at him.
But I can’t.
“The doctor said the risks of dying during surgery are low,” he reasons. He tries. “Less than five percent, the doctor said.”
My father was in the minority.
The tears fall.
I can’t look at him.
“You’re different, darling,” he keeps pushing. “We’ll make it through this.”
Max makes promises that he has no control over. He makes promises that he can’t keep.
It’s too much. It’s too fast.
Is this what I was afraid of?
Is Max scared?
How can he be so strong?
When there’s so much. So fast.
I finally look at him.
My eyes sting. My breathing is erratic. He’ll be angry. He’ll be upset. But I … “I don’t want the surgery.”
I don’t want it to happen. I don’t want it quick. I don’t want it sudden. I don’t want it to end like that.
I don’t … I don’t … “I don’t want to be like my father.”
Sobs escape me.
My head hangs.
Tears flood my hands.
Fear racks my body.
He pulls me to him. He lets me fall apart. He whispers. He soothes. “I won’t let that happen.”
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Chapter Thirty Nine:
-------------------------------------------------
The room is cold.
The nurse handed me a gown. She asked me to change.
Max took it from her. He tied the gown on me.
I’m cold.
The doctor came in.
He lectured me on not coming in sooner.
He started his examination.
He poked. He prodded.
He started running tests.
He confined me to the bed.
Max left me then. He wanted to speak with the doctor alone.
The room is cold.
The air is stale.
I hate hospitals.
When was the last time I was here? Was it months ago? Was it a year?
Has it been that long?
I feel weak.
The walls close in on me.
I hate hospitals.
The gown is thin.
I’m sitting on the paper covered bed. It is uncomfortable.
I feel cold. Weak.
What have I been doing since then?
I upset Max.
We’re supposed to leave today. New York.
But I’m not ready.
The door opens. Max walks in.
He walks up to me. He’s upset. He stares.
He’s scaring me.
Because he’s upset. At me.
“I am so disappointed in you right now,” he says.
I nod. I know. He doesn’t need to tell me.
I would tell him that I’m sorry, but it won’t help.
It’s not his fault. It’s mine.
The door opens. The doctor comes in. He’s holding a large file. He’s holding x-rays.
He has a frown on his face.
The x-rays are placed up against the light.
He looks to us with another frown. “Your condition is poor, Mrs. Evans,” he says.
The doctor starts explaining. He uses big words.
Aortic valve regurgitation. Ejection fraction. Irrepairable damage.
My head spins.
Echocardiogram. Replacement surgery. Blood thinning medication.
It started as a heart murmur. When did it become this?
Mechanical valves. Tissue valves. Homografts.
Max asks questions. Max seeks answers.
My head spins.
“She’s been very depressed for a long time now,” Max says.
The doctor nods. “Some symptoms your wife may be feeling are shortness of breath, lightheadedness, arrhythmias, chest pain, and fatigue. She shouldn’t be experiencing any severe symptoms at this point. But it gets worse as the aortic valve deteriorates.”
Max nods.
“It’s a good thing you came in when you did, though, I wished you would have come in earlier,” the doctor speaks to me softly. Bedside manners, I think they’re called. “There’s still a lot of hope for you yet, Mrs. Evans. But your ejection fraction has dropped to about fifty percent. Because it’s so low, you’re qualified for the replacement surgery.”
I nod. Big words.
“And because of your young age and because your overall health is fair, the risks typically involved with valve replacement surgery goes down greatly,” the doctor says. “But, like with any surgery, there are always risks involved. However, at this point, I would recommend the surgery.”
“We’ll have the surgery,” Max decides for me. He sits in a chair before me. He’s hands block his face. He stares at nothing.
The doctor nods. “Talk it over with your families. There are always options.”
I nod.
The doctor holds out something to Max. “Here’s the number of psychiatrist that you requested. Dr. Sanchez is one of the best in town.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Max mumbles. He takes the card.
The doctor leaves.
Max stays where he is.
I watch him.
He stares at nothing.
He won’t look at me.
It’s scary.
He stays this way, his head in his hands. For five minutes? For an eternity?
My husband is worried. He is stressed.
But it isn’t his fault. It’s mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s all I can say.
He’s serious. He’s solemn. “You’re having the surgery.”
“I don’t …” I hang my head. It’s too much. It’s too soon.
“Elizabeth.” He touches my cheek, but I can’t look at him. The tears fall. “Honey, I know your father had the same thing.”
Aortic valve regurgitation.
It wasn’t hereditary.
It’s a coincidence.
“But you are younger and healthier than he was,” he argues. He explains. He tries to make me look at him.
But I can’t.
“The doctor said the risks of dying during surgery are low,” he reasons. He tries. “Less than five percent, the doctor said.”
My father was in the minority.
The tears fall.
I can’t look at him.
“You’re different, darling,” he keeps pushing. “We’ll make it through this.”
Max makes promises that he has no control over. He makes promises that he can’t keep.
It’s too much. It’s too fast.
Is this what I was afraid of?
Is Max scared?
How can he be so strong?
When there’s so much. So fast.
I finally look at him.
My eyes sting. My breathing is erratic. He’ll be angry. He’ll be upset. But I … “I don’t want the surgery.”
I don’t want it to happen. I don’t want it quick. I don’t want it sudden. I don’t want it to end like that.
I don’t … I don’t … “I don’t want to be like my father.”
Sobs escape me.
My head hangs.
Tears flood my hands.
Fear racks my body.
He pulls me to him. He lets me fall apart. He whispers. He soothes. “I won’t let that happen.”
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:20 am, edited 1 time in total.