Eighty and Out (21 page)

Jim left with a single bag, saying he’d be back on the weekend so we could discuss the details of the divorce after I’d had a chance to calm down. He’d apologized over and over, saying he never meant to hurt me, and that he knew the timing was awful. Then he said I was a wonderful person and that he would always love me.

When he said that, something inside me snapped, and I screamed at him to get out.

I paced the apartment, furious. Here I had lost every member of my family, and he was out fooling around with another woman – a girl Lisa’s age! And to add insult to injury, I got her the job.

My feet pounded the hardwood floor as I marched back and forth, analyzing the situation in reverse. Jim had suggested I take more time off. There was no rush for me to return to work he had said. I smirked, thinking how at the time I had believed he was so thoughtful.

He had been working late, too. Not enough to where it was suspicious, but in retrospect, it all made sense. He had said he was with his dad all those times. That stopped me.

Did his dad know about this?

Would he approve?

I doubted it considering what Jim’s mom had done to him.

I tried to remember if he had acted differently when he was over for dinner last time. And as I did, I was reminded that Jim had neglected to tell me his own mother had died.

I shook my head. I had felt bad about voicing my opinion on the matter when what I should have been was alarmed. The man was literally full of secrets.

Memories of me lying around looking awful for months on end surfaced. I had been depressed, but I could have showered; I could have tried to look presentable while grieving the loss of my family.

I sighed in frustration. What was done was done.

Then I thought of Miranda and grew angry. Here I tried to do something good and help a person out when she was in need, and in return she screwed me over. I’d never even met her, only her mom, who I now wanted to strangle with my bare hands.

I was so worked up, I accidentally slammed my shin into the coffee table. “Damn it!” I cursed.

The pain triggered tears that hadn’t fallen yet, and I sat on the sofa and sobbed. Jim was the love of my life, and I didn’t know how I could live without him.

The thought of him with someone else made me ill.

And they were having a baby!

“What did I do to deserve this?” I cried out. “Why me?”

I had given up on the dream of having a child, and Jim said he had given up on it, too. All he wanted was for us to grow old together.

I sobbed uncontrollably as I realized that I would grow old alone.

The room seemed to shrink, and I had to take a few deep breaths so I wouldn’t hyperventilate. Sweating, I got up to get a glass of water. When I stood, I felt light-headed and had to lean against the wall for support.

On the way to the kitchen, I remembered the unopened bottle of tequila. I dug it out of the cupboard and looked for a shot glass. I didn’t own one and decided it didn’t matter. Today called for a tumbler anyway.

The amber liquid tasted smooth on its way down, just like it had all those years ago at Bernice’s wedding. For a split second, I wondered if it was okay to mix alcohol with the painkillers I had just taken. I quickly dismissed the thought, not caring either way.

I took a second, much larger gulp. And within a short time I was drunk, fascinated by the intricate design of the label on the half-empty tequila bottle. I considered calling Bernice but chose not to. All I wanted was to feel nothing. To cease to exist.

I thought of the pact Jeannie and I had made when we were kids. Eighty and out, we had said. We were going to leave the planet with dignity.

She had made an early departure. Mom and Dad were gone, and Jim…

Again I thought of him with another woman, smiling and holding their baby, and reached for the tequila and poured the rest of it in the glass, filling it to the rim.

I held it in the air to make a toast. “To a lifetime of happiness for Jim and Lou,” I scoffed. A small amount of alcohol spilled onto the table, and I took a sip, dripping some more onto my lap.

As I nursed my drink, I thought of Jeannie, Mom, and Dad. They were the ones who truly loved me; the ones who would never abandon me, no matter what. But they were all gone.

My stomach felt queasy all of a sudden, and I thought I was going to throw up. I lifted the almost empty glass and studied it like it held the answer to a great secret, then set it on the table. I couldn’t drink any more. Not a single drop or I’d vomit.

I glanced at my knuckles. Whenever I drank alcohol or ate too much sugar it would trigger a rheumatic flare, and they were already starting to hurt. Tomorrow’s pain was guaranteed to be off the charts.

I stared at my hands, resentful that they had betrayed me, and saw Aunt Violet’s instead. I thought of all the times we had gone to visit her at the nursing home and how depressing it was. The only person she had was my mom, her favorite niece whom she had lavished with all her love and attention.

It had gotten dark outside, and I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. What I saw in it terrified me more than anything I had ever seen.

I was just like Aunt Violet.

The revelation was so shocking, it was like I’d been slapped across the face by the hand of fate. Frustrated, I whipped the empty tequila bottle across the room and cursed at a God who obviously hated me, then stumbled to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror for a long time.

I couldn’t be Aunt Violet. I just couldn’t.

I reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out the bottle of painkillers. I swallowed the remaining pills and climbed into bed. I closed my eyes and thought of sister’s dying wish.

“I’m sorry, Jeannie. I hope you will forgive me.”

I woke up the next day feeling like shit. I remembered my life was over, and that I wasn’t even capable of ending it properly. As I got up to use the restroom, I had a vague memory of throwing a bottle across the room and wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it up.

I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet and washed a few down with a cup of water from the bathroom sink and forced myself to take a shower and get dressed. I had things to do. Like clean up the mess I had made and try to figure out what to do with the rest of my miserable life.

When I finished cleaning, I ate a bowl of cereal and climbed onto the sofa and took a nap. I woke a few hours later, after having a dream of Jeannie and me playing tag as kids, and felt strangely calm.

Jim came by the next day. He looked apprehensive as he came in and took a seat on the couch.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Fine,” I replied.

I looked like hell but had made an attempt at fixing my appearance. Not that it mattered since Miranda was twenty years younger and probably glowing with new life from within.

Jim smiled awkwardly. “Good,” he said.

He sat up straight. “I was thinking it would be simplest if we split things in half. You can have this apartment building, and I’ll take the other. Same thing with the two Laundromats and our bank account.”

I still had my parent’s house, which was willed to me and paid off.

“Sounds fair,” I agreed.

It felt horrible to have this discussion with him. Like a dagger to the heart.

“And what about your father?” I asked. “Doesn’t he kind of get screwed in this deal?” It had been their business, and now I was getting half because I was his wife.

Jim’s face contorted ever so slightly, and I knew him well enough to know he and his dad hadn’t seen eye to eye on this plan.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said dismissively.

“Oh. Right. He’s no longer my concern.”

I had planned to be civil but couldn’t control my feelings. I really loved Jim’s dad and felt it was wrong I had to “not worry” about him just because Jim had decided to start a new life with someone else.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “What I meant is I want to be fair to you.”

I crossed my arms and pursed my lips, finding the statement ironic.

Jim’s face grew red with embarrassment as he realized how foolish he sounded. He cleared his throat and looked me in the eyes.

“This is hard for me too, you know.” His expression softened. “After I got involved with Miranda, I realized it was a mistake, that I was just running away from my problems, and I wanted to break it off so I could try and reconnect with you.”

I listened, wondering how he went from being someone trying to correct a mistake to an expectant father.

“But then your mom died, and then your dad, and then due to circumstances beyond our control, we kept drifting apart.”

I nodded, accepting partial responsibility, and wished I could go back in time and do things differently. I would have made him a priority. And maybe if I hadn’t stopped working, he wouldn’t have had to hire someone else.

“Then Miranda got pregnant,” he continued. “And I did a lot of thinking.” He rubbed his unshaved face with his hand, looking as exhausted as I felt. “I realized I loved her and wanted to be with her, but that I loved you, too, but that I couldn’t have you both… so I had to make a choice.”

Hearing him say he loved her stung.

“So you decided to leave me for another woman. Just like your mom did to your dad?” I lashed out.

His jaw tensed. “It’s not the same,” he said.

I laughed sarcastically. “It never is.”

Jim bristled. “My mom left me and my dad for another man. I was her son. I should have been the most important person in her life, but I wasn’t.”

I finally understood his train of thought. “So you’re choosing Miranda so you can make your child the focus of your life and be a better parent than your mom was?”

Jim let out a heavy sigh. “Something like that.”

I fixed him with a steely gaze. “Then you better get started,” I suggested. “There’s no time like the present.”

I moved into my parent’s house after the divorce. It was dated, but Chuck had offered to help me fix it up. I used a portion of the proceeds from the sale of the apartment building and Laundromat for materials and had set aside some money to pay for repairs.

He had been coming over every Saturday for months, but whenever I tried to pay him, he wouldn’t let me.

“C’mon,” I said. “You can’t just spend your day off working for free. Why won’t you let me give you something?”

Chuck wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I enjoy doing this stuff.” He sat down, taking a break from the porch remodel. “Plus, you’ve done so much for Lisa through the years. There’s no way I’d let you pay me. Not a cent.”

My new neighbor, Rhonda, came outside to water her plants. She waved, and I noticed Chuck watching her.

“You should stop by for dinner tonight,” I said to her. “I made lasagna, and it’s hard to finish a whole tray on my own.” She gave me a thumbs up, and I turned to Chuck. “You’re staying for dinner, right?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said, trying to act casual.

We straightened up outside, and Chuck relaxed in the family room while I heated up the food. I heard the doorbell ring and went to answer it. Rhonda came in, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a small white cardboard box in the other.

“Hello,” she said to Chuck, wearing a big smile. “The place is turning out great. And in such a short time.”

“Thanks.” Chuck blushed.

I grinned, turning to Rhonda. “What kind of goodies have you got?”

“Leftovers from work. Like you said, I can’t eat them all myself. Whatever I don’t sell, I either donate to the needy or bring home. I’ve got a lemon tart, a cupcake, a few cookies.”

“Rhonda’s a pastry chef and owns her own bakery,” I said.

Chuck raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. We headed to the kitchen and sat down to eat.

I started the conversation but managed to melt into the background as planned, letting Chuck and Rhonda chat. After a few glasses of wine and a couple of hours had passed, it became obvious they had a lot in common.

Once they both had left and I was cleaning up, I smiled. Chuck hadn’t shown an interest in anyone since Jeannie died, and Rhonda was recently divorced and shared many of the same qualities as Jeannie.

Later that evening, my thoughts turned to Jim. I hadn’t really gotten over him, and I wasn’t sure I ever would. Nearly every memory – certainly every significant one – included him. In the few years we had been apart, he had made an effort to stay friends. I tried at first, because I didn’t want to break the connection, but once his son was born, it hurt too much.

Bernice and I, on the other hand, had always stayed close. I called her the next day to see how she was doing.

“Good,” she said. “Not much is new. But I did just read a book that made me think of you. A memoir called
Under the Tuscan Sun
. It’s about a lady who goes through something similar to what you did, then moves to Tuscany and finds romance.”

I laughed. I had learned long ago that life wasn’t like in romance novels. I was about to say so when Bernice asked, “What ever happened to our girl’s trip? We always say we’re going to go, but we never do.”

We never went because everything was always falling apart.

“Are you saying we should go to Tuscany?” I joked.

“I don’t see why not.”

I had no intention of trying to find romance, but the idea of taking a vacation to a place I had always wanted to visit sounded good.

“Okay,” I said. “When do you want to go?”

“Whenever you want to. Like I said, not much is going on.”

“Why don’t I see if there are any last minute deals we can take advantage of?”

“Sounds good. Call me back with the info.”

I went to the travel agent right after I hung up the phone, feeling like I had to take immediate action. When I returned, I was excited and called Bernice back.

“Book it,” she said. “It’ll be closer if we go together from there, so I’ll meet you in Chicago.”

“Great! See you in two weeks!”

I rushed to my closet and surveyed my wardrobe. I didn’t have anything nice to wear and figured I’d probably need to buy some clothes before I left. I called Lisa after dinner and asked her if she’d go shopping with me.

“Of course,” she replied. “This will be fun, because it just so happens I need to buy some new clothes, too.” She paused, then added, “Maternity clothes.”

“Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” I was so excited I began jumping up and down. She and Tim had been trying to have a child, and I was glad it didn’t turn into a failed quest like my own.

“Thanks. Looks like you’re going to be an aunt again. A great aunt!”

“I’ll take it,” I said, excited I’d have someone else to spoil.

Lisa and I went to lunch, then to a few stores. She found a few new outfits to get her started and planned to buy more as she grew, but I had a hard time choosing vacation clothes.

“You want to be comfortable but stylish,” she said. “I think the reason you’re not loving anything you’re trying is because the clothing you picked is too…matronly.”

I eyed her, surprised by her bluntness. “Well, I am fifty-two years old. I don’t want to dress too young.”

Lisa nodded. “Maybe we should keep looking.” She wandered around the store until she’d found a few new items and handed them to me. After trying them on, I realized they were more flattering and bought them.

I guess I just needed someone to remind me I wasn’t elderly, even though it was how I felt.

Bernice told me she would take a cab to my house and not to bother picking her up at the airport. I had most everything packed, and had just straightened up the house, which was just that moment, finally finished.

Chuck gathered his tools.

“Thanks for all your help. I really appreciate it,” I told him. “And thanks for offering to keep an eye on the place while I’m gone.”

“No problem. I’ll be in the area anyway. Rhonda invited me to dinner next week.”

“Well, that sounds just perfect.” I smiled, glad my attempt at matchmaking had been successful. “Have a good time.”

“You, too. Tell Bernice I said hi.”

Chuck left, and I sat on the porch in one of the new rocking chairs and waited for Bernice. I scanned the neighborhood, noticing how much it had changed and also how much it had stayed the same. It seemed like yesterday when Jeannie and I played tag in the yard or I sought solitude in my favorite tree.

I thought of my childhood dream to live out west and marry a man with horses. It hadn’t come true, and that was fine. I had grown up and learned that the most important thing was to be grateful for what I had. And the truth was I had a lot. I was financially secure. I had wonderful friends and family, even though I had lost many I loved. And I owned a beautiful house, one that had just been transformed to reflect who I was now, but would always make me feel at home because it was where I grew up.

I saw a cab coming down the street and stood up. The car stopped and Bernice climbed out. I ran toward her, smiling, and gave her a big hug. She had a book in her hand, and I glanced at it, noting it was an English/Italian phrase book.

“I’ve come prepared,” she said, holding it up.

I smirked. She was probably already fluent.

“Good. You’re in charge of asking for directions if we get lost.”

Bernice and I went inside, and I set her bags down. I gave her a tour of the place.

“It’s like I always remembered it, only better,” she said.

We chatted for a while but went to bed early to wake up on time for our flight.

All the way to Florence, we chatted about the stops we’d take on the tour, excited to soon be living the sweet life, or what Italians called,
la dolce vita
. Once we landed and were on the way to our hotel, both of us kept saying how beautiful every building was, how we’d never seen anything so gorgeous in our lives.

Our first truly Italian dinner was life-changing.

“Each bite is more delicious than the last,” I said. “I’ve never eaten anything that has tasted so fresh.”

Bernice set her wine glass on the table and smiled. “I’m so glad we did this.”

My heart was a little heavy that Jeannie couldn’t have been with us, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment. I smiled. “I’m glad, too.”

The week flew by too quickly. A dizzying whirlwind of Renaissance culture filled with museums, churches, and one amazing meal after another. We spent a couple days in the town of Lucca, a walled city with jaw-dropping medieval architecture. One day, our guide took us on a walking tour, and as Bernice and I moved along, marveling at the red-roofed villas and numerous towers, I was so busy having a good time I didn’t even notice my usual arthritis pain.

The final day, we stayed at a bed and breakfast in Cortona. It was run by a middle-aged husband and wife, and as we sat down to breakfast, they started having what looked like a heated exchange. Since I didn’t speak Italian, I wasn’t sure what they were arguing about.

I took a sip of coffee and was surprised when they smiled at each other and he gave her a passionate kiss on the lips. I turned to Bernice.

“That’s me and Alejandro,” she joked.

I grinned and stabbed my fork into my omelet, having the time of my life.

While waiting in line at the Florence airport, a distinguished man smiled warmly at me. Bernice noticed and elbowed me, just like we were kids.

“He likes you,” she whispered.

“I gathered that,” I replied, trying not to giggle.

The man nodded and moved forward in line, then left to board his flight while we checked our bags for our return trip to Chicago.

Bernice turned to me after we were seated on the plane. “I forgot to tell you this. It’s kind of funny.”

I perked up, in the mood to laugh.

“Alejandro was talking to Juan about us taking the trip to Tuscany, and I guess Juan was a little miffed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How come?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Alejandro told him about the
Under the Tuscan Sun
book, and how the lady ends up finding romance in Italy, and he said Juan seemed jealous.”

I started laughing. “You’re not serious.” Bernice’s expression didn’t change. “You’re not kidding?” I asked in disbelief.

“He said something to the effect of, ‘Sure, now she’s available after all these years,’ and began complaining.”

“Boy, that comes as a surprise. I mean, I know he liked me, and to be perfectly honest, I found him attractive too, but didn’t you say he’s happily married?”

“He’s happy,” Bernice assured me. “I think he was just gossiping with his brother.”

Since my divorce, Juan had apparently thought the same thing I had. That we could have been an item if things were different.

But things weren’t different. And that’s how life went.