Home > The View from Alameda Island(17)

The View from Alameda Island(17)
Author: Robyn Carr

“We haven’t even shared a bedroom in years. I’m not spending the rest of my life like this. I may crumble sometimes, but I’ll pick myself up. I regret that I didn’t do this years ago. I thought I was doing right by the girls by staying, but I was wrong. Obviously I didn’t do anyone any favors. Including Brad.”

He looked at her for a long moment, sympathy in his eyes. “Buckle your seat belt.”

* * *

Lauren had made two phone calls before arriving at her new rented house with Beau following. She called Beth and said, “I’m not coming over. I’m going to my house. I bought a bottle of wine and some cheese and crackers and right now I really need a little time to think. Can I call you in the morning?”

“Was it terrible?” Beth asked.

“Kind of, yeah. But highly survivable.”

“Call me,” her sister said.

Then she called Cassie. “I left the house and came to my rental. It was terrible and I need a little time to process. Is it okay for me to call you later?”

“Yes, but Lacey already called. Oh Mama, I’m sorry she was so selfish!”

“Well, she was shocked, I suppose. Let me take off my shoes and relax, get a grip on my feelings and call you later.”

“I’ll be up and if not, call anyway.”

“Should I wait and call tomorrow? I’m having the day off.”

“Call tonight to say good-night. I’ll be up till midnight. Then we can talk tomorrow, too.”

“Thank you for being so understanding, Cassie. I’m sorry to put you through this.”

“He put us all through it. It was harder listening to the way Daddy put you down all the time. I know you were putting us first. If it hadn’t been for me and Lacey, you would have left him years ago.”

She prayed there was a way Cassie and Lacey could remain close through this, but that seemed impossible, given the differences in the way they both felt.

Then Lauren had unlocked her front door and carried in her meager groceries, followed by the flower man. And a whole new world seemed to open up to her. At first they drank a glass of wine and dumped their bad marriage tales on each other, but after an hour, almost by mutual decision, they moved on to other topics. He told her about his house in Alameda, a Victorian he renovated and remodeled almost entirely on his own. He had a job that never required dressing up and all summer he worked in shorts. He had an office and an associate, three assistants and several landscapers he’d worked with for years.

“I built the business from the ground up, at first I was designing and planting with a small crew to help. I only worked for someone else for a couple of years after college, then I bet it all and struck out on my own.”

“I don’t mean this in a nosy way, but is your company successful?” she asked.

“It is,” he said. “But more importantly, I still love it. Both the boys have worked for my landscapers. Drew still does. It will get him through college and make him strong. It’s hard work. Tell me about your job.”

“It’s not very interesting,” she said. “It’s just product development. We’re the people that help marketing introduce new products and investigate ways to use them. We work closely with the dieticians and chefs. We call them chefs but they’re not official chefs—more like cooks. In fact some of our best cooks are men and women who are semi-professional but have great success in the kitchen. They take something as simple as freeze-dried or frozen chicken strips and create a packaged chicken Alfredo that’s inexpensive, nutritious, easy and fast.”

“And full of preservatives,” he said.

“Don’t you ever eat prepared meals? Like frozen pizza?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m giving you a hard time.”

“Because I haven’t had a hard enough time today?” she countered, lifting one brow.

“How do you make your eyes that color?”

“Believe it or not, it’s real—violet. It’s rare. Elizabeth Taylor had violet eyes. It’s a mutation, I’m told. It can also be done with contacts, which explains why we’re seeing more of it.”

He was looking into her eyes, not talking. Then he took a sip of his wine and seemed to gather himself up. He swallowed. “Men must have fallen in love with you all the time,” he said.

She looked away from his intense gaze. “Not that I noticed,” she said. Not since Brad. Brad had said, I just want to look into those eyes for the rest of my life. She’d fallen for it and it turned out not to be true.

“Well, maybe you’ll notice once you’re not going through the upheaval of divorce. You’re a beautiful woman, Lauren. I think your life is going to take a nice turn after the storm.”

“And is yours?” she asked.

“It was pretty slow and easy until Pamela decided she wanted to save our marriage, then it started to get rough again. It’ll pass. After she’s gotten everything she can get.”

“Oh God, I can’t even think about all that,” Lauren said.

“I hope you got yourself a good lawyer,” he said.

“I had to. I’ve always known my husband would be terrible. He’s been kind enough to warn me. Do you? Have a good lawyer?”

He nodded. “She has an amazing track record and a great reputation, but she looks like my grandmother. She says it’s her secret weapon.”

In spite of herself, Lauren laughed. “And my lawyer has a reputation as a barracuda, but she’s always been very nice to me. Where it all breaks down is when it’s time to do something ruthless. And I can’t. I’m not that person. I never have been.”

“Me, either. Oh brother,” he said. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

“Kind of sounds like it.”

He looked at his watch. “I’m going to get out of your hair. Do you need anything before I go?”

“I think I’ll get by just fine. I’m glad you stopped by. Maybe everyone needs a divorce buddy.”

“That’s very cute, Lauren,” he said, standing. “You have my cell number. If anything comes up, if you have a problem or if you’re worried about something...”

“I’m fine. Really. I need to make a couple of phone calls.”

At the door he paused. Hesitated. Then he gave her a brief hug. “Hang in there.”

“You, too.”

* * *

Lauren called Cassie first, told her she was fine and they’d talk the next day. Beth had been chomping at the bit to know how she was. “He must know I’m serious because he isn’t showing his hand,” Lauren told her sister. “He likes to think he’s smarter than everyone and capable of a sneak attack. Even after all these years, it’s impossible for me to anticipate Brad.”

After that, she pulled a blanket out of a box, put her pajamas on and reclined on the sofa with her last glass of wine and her laptop. She checked her mail, listened to some local news and before she knew it, her eyelids were drooping. Using one of the sofa throw pillows for her head, she curled up on her new couch and went to sleep.

She slept like a baby. When she woke, birds were chirping and the sun was streaming into the living room windows.

How is this possible? she asked herself. After the stress of the day, how could she sleep like that? She thought she’d be awake all night, worrying about her daughters, dreading Brad’s anger, hearing odd noises... But she was strangely at peace. She couldn’t remember her dreams this morning but she thought there was a familiar presence there. She thought it was Beau, smiling that reassuring smile. What a surprising gift he was—a friend who understood what she was going through just when she needed that most. A divorce buddy was not a bad notion. When she got to know him better, she might be able to talk him off the ledge just the way he had for her.

She checked and saw there were no missed calls on her phone. The world was at peace. She showered, dressed in jeans and sneakers and roared into her day, starting with the nearest Starbucks. She treated herself to a sausage biscuit and called Cassie from the store patio. She listened to her daughter’s concerns, then told her firmly, “Don’t let your father or anyone make this your problem—this isn’t about you. This is our marriage that’s ending and we’re the only people responsible. And don’t let Lacey try to get you involved. I know in the end it will be difficult and painful for you girls, but I’ll do my best to reassure you, then we just have to move on.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Hah. What tripe! she thought.

Then she called Lacey, who was every bit as unpleasant as she had been the evening before. “Have you come to your senses yet?” Lacey said.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to the idea that I’m not going to be married to your father any longer. It will take a while to sort out, but this doesn’t have to be about you, Lacey. This is about your father and me.”

“Oh really? And who’s going to take care of him in his old age?”

A rush of protests were on her lips, the most obvious being, You can’t treat a person like an irrelevant servant for years and then expect them to be your faithful caretaker in old age! Instead she said, “And who’s going to take care of me in my old age, Lacey? You? Because we both know it wouldn’t be your father.”

She heard her daughter suck in her breath, but nothing more.

“Never mind,” Lauren said. “I’ll pick out my extended care facility before I need it. I’ve given your father twenty-four years and I’ve given you most of that, too. Since no one seems particularly concerned that I be happy or cared for, I’ll do it for myself. Call me when you’re done blaming me.”

“How can you? How can you destroy our family like this?”

“Me?” Lauren asked. “Stop it, Lacey! There are no more excuses! Your father has been, at the very least, horrible to me. Cruel! Mean! I’m done. That. Is. All.” And she hung up.

   
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