“Oh boy.”
“Yep, this was the day. A very trying, painful day.”
He reached out and touched her upper arm, giving her a supportive squeeze. “Want to get a cup of coffee? There are lots of nice little spots around here.”
“I...ah... I really need to get out of these shoes. It’s been so stressful.”
“I understand completely. I had a go-around with one of the boys the other night. He was upset about the pending divorce, like it hasn’t been coming for years.”
“Really?”
“His mother got to him, wanting him to pressure me to try again. It was awful.”
“I think that’s what happened in my family. One daughter seems to understand completely and the other thinks I’m a monster. I’m trying so hard not to explode and list the terrible reasons this is the only option for me.”
“You don’t want to blame him to the kids,” Beau said, knowingly. “Eventually you’re going to, you know. It happens. Hang in there.”
“I don’t feel like going to a café or bar, but if you’d like a glass of wine and some...” She looked in her basket. “Some cheese and grapes?”
“I don’t want to complicate your life at such a touchy time. But I sure wouldn’t mind a glass of wine. The only person I’ve had to talk to about all of this is a priest.” He grinned. “We should do this. We have war stories to share.”
“That sounds miserable.”
“It’s going to be perfectly nice. You’ll see you’re not the only one and you won’t tell me anything you’re not ready to talk about. Lauren, it would be nice if it was simple and amicable. I’ve heard that happens sometimes. But if you ask me, it’s damn rare. I thought I could just be strong, be a big guy and weather it, but I’m having a rough ride like most people do. You know what’s good, though?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“It won’t last forever. In my case, Pamela will find someone to take her mind off me. She usually does.”
She thought about this for a second, the idea of having him over. She wished she had her mom to talk to, but Honey had been bitter in some ways, having been abandoned herself. Not only had her young husband walked out on her and left her with two babies to support alone, but Brad had never fooled her. She knew he was a bastard from day one. At least there was Beth, who could be sympathetic and supportive, but Beth had a storybook marriage. Very human and earthy, married to a cop and with money always tight, but at the end of the day, she was secure in her marriage. There was only Ruby. And Ruby’s husband was recovering from a stroke.
“I need to get some plastic cups and plates,” she said.
“Great. Then I’ll follow you.” He lifted his basket. It contained only milk, bread and eggs. “Can I borrow your refrigerator?”
“Sure.”
For the first time since deciding to leave Brad she did not feel utterly alone. It would be good to have a friend who understood what it was like to end a marriage.
* * *
Beau followed Lauren to a neighborhood he knew and to a house that was easily as nice as his, but he’d bought his as a fixer-upper before he even met Pamela. Lauren unlocked the door for them and went straight to the kitchen, turning on the overhead lights. She set out the wine and cheese and some plastic plates and cups on the counter. “I don’t even have a coffee table,” she said. The house was vacant but for a single couch.
“I’m a guy,” he said. “I can put my drink on the floor and the plate on my knees. And I won’t spill.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Would you open the wine while I bring in some bags from the car?”
He held out his hand for her key fob. “I’ll open the wine and bring in the bags. Where are they?”
“Trunk. And thanks. I feel like I’ve just finished a marathon.”
“I know the feeling.”
He opened the wine then made fast work of bringing in the bags. She sat on the sofa—the kind of fancy, curved sofa in a light beige he wouldn’t have dared buy for his living room with two boys growing up. “You have more furniture coming?” he asked politely.
“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “A full complement, most of it in the next two to three days. Tables, chairs, television, bedroom furniture, guest room furniture. I’m taking some time off. I did that to meet deliveries but now I’m so glad I have the days off. I’m emotionally drained.”
“How’d your husband take it?” Beau asked.
“As though he’d been expecting it for years but didn’t think I’d ever have the guts to really do it. And then he warned me—he’d make me regret it. He didn’t say he loved me and couldn’t live without me, which wouldn’t have worked in any case. He said I was humiliating him.”
Beau winced. He recovered and said, “Look, I’m sorry to pry, but is there any chance he’d become violent?”
“Physically?” she asked. “And hurt his hands?”
“Is he the kind of man who could cause you physical harm? Disable your car? Set your house on fire? Anything?”
She stiffened, instantly at alert. “He’s so good at abusing me without lifting a finger, those things never occurred to me. He’s more likely to try to keep me from getting anything from the marriage or turn the girls against me. He loves to tell me I can’t get by without him when actually, I think the opposite is true. He texts me all day, giving me chores to do for him, lists of things to buy for him, settle for him. It is said most doctors can’t make it without a good nurse and a good wife. Brad has a great sense of entitlement. I don’t know for sure but I suspect he was born with it. He was the only child of wealthy parents.”
He just shook his head.
“He’s mean and spiteful. I need to remember that.”
“I’ll come over tomorrow and install some good locks for you,” he said. “I’ll get one of those camera doorbells that you can access with your cell phone.”
“You don’t have to do that...”
“But it will help,” he said.
“So you’ve had a bad week?” she asked, only to take the focus off her for a moment.
“Predictable, but not fun. I didn’t expect Michael, my twenty-year-old, to come to me in tears practically begging me to let his mom come home. I hated looking like such a beast. I changed the locks on the house. I told them their mother isn’t forbidden to enter by any means but to please be sure someone is there. When she’s done acting hurt and begging for another chance, she’s going to get angry. And when she gets angry, she can be malicious.”
“What are you afraid of?” Lauren asked.
“I’m not sure what to be afraid of. She could take lots of stuff she doesn’t need. She’s living in a furnished flat in the city and all she needed was her clothes and she took almost all of them, leaving very little behind. She thought she was never coming back, that’s my guess. I suspect another man. A man that didn’t last. That’s been our pattern. She leaves because the marriage is troubled, she says, but I think she gets bored. A few months later she regrets it and wants to come home. Quite suddenly, every time. All I’m lacking are the facts.”
“And you were expecting that?”
“I was. I told her the last time she left I wasn’t going to be welcoming her home after her vacation. I told her if she left, it would be the last time. Apparently she thought she could turn that decision around. At Michael’s insistence, we tried marriage counseling. And not for the first time.”
Lauren actually laughed. “We’ve had marriage counseling at least six times.”
“I guess it didn’t work for you, either.”
“It will never work,” Lauren said. “Brad sees himself as smarter than the counselor. He manages to control the session. He educates the therapist, diagnosing me as a chronic liar who is frequently delusional, imagining him having affairs, exaggerating things he said, picking fights over nothing.”
“All untrue?” he asked.
“My sister calls it gaslighting. He says, ‘You’re imagining that,’ or ‘That’s just another gross exaggeration,’ or ‘You’re dreaming again, Lauren.’ And, ‘Sometimes I genuinely fear for your sanity.’ And my favorite, ‘My wife is suffering from depression and anxiety and she’s in denial and won’t get help.’ He’s called me bipolar, manic depressive, a borderline personality and malicious.”
“Did you imagine him having affairs?”
“No,” she said. “Not affairs, I don’t think. I think I might’ve guessed if he was really invested in another woman. Flings, I think. And no it wasn’t my imagination. He had me almost convinced I was paranoid. Then there was proof.”
“That’ll do it,” Beau said. “Ever ask yourself, how did I get to this place?”
“I’m pretty sure I know how and it doesn’t reflect well on me,” she said. “You?”
He nodded. “I know exactly how. I loved Pam and her kids.”
“Well, I was very young and hopeful. And Lacey came along right away. The kids were still very little when I realized it was hopeless. I didn’t think my heart could break any more. Until my daughter said she’d never forgive me if I divorced her father, even though she knows how difficult he is to live with. Then I knew real heartache.”
“And your other daughter?”
That was almost as painful to think about. “Very supportive...because she remembers his abusive nature and meanness way better than I want her to. It tears me up to think she grew up with that knowledge.”
He leaned toward her. “There are some things you’re going to have to understand, Lauren. Even though you did your best and no more could be expected of you, you’ll feel guilty. You’re going to be judged. You’re going to be worried about what he can do to you. He might want to do battle. Your daughters might love you a lot and still not be supportive—to them it’s not ideal for you to walk away now. Would they have you spend the rest of your life unhappy just so it won’t inconvenience them? I’m afraid so. You’re going to have to do what you think is best in spite of what other people, including your kids, think. And depending on how tenacious your husband is, this could go on for a long time. Are you sure you’re up to it?”