Missing You
For over two weeks, Carrick and I barely talk at all. I rarely see him in person, and our only other interaction is via text message. That’s about as impersonal as communication can get, and I can’t tell at all how he feels. He just keeps telling me that he needs more time. Whatever that means. I may have promised it to him, but it doesn’t mean that I understand it. I just know that I’ll do what he says.
And so, two weeks pass, and my life feels like it might be ending. The only thing keeping me going at all is knowing that I get to see my kids soon. Really soon. As soon as the plane lands soon.
Kate has to know something is wrong, because I haven’t been very talkative the last few times we have Skyped, but I don’t know how to explain this to her. How can I tell her I cheated on Carrick without telling her who? I wouldn’t cheat with anyone else. But Kate can’t know the way I’m drawn to Taylor, unable to ever resist him. We might have grown a lot closer since our divorce, but that would put an end to that quickly. I can’t come up with any other explanation for what has happened between me and Carrick, and so I’ve avoided all of Kate’s questions.
Determined not to worry her or the kids, I stand by the gate with a huge smile on my face. It’s only partially fake, because every time I remember that my babies are almost in my arms again, I feel so happy I could burst. Like my relationship with Kate, it’s taken being separated from them to really begin to appreciate them. Maybe that’s awful, since they’re my children, but I think playing house with Kate for so long had made me numb. Now I feel everything, the good and the bad. But right now, just the good.
As soon as they appear around the corner, I’m practically jumping up and down. I have to look ridiculous, but I don’t care. All that matters is those two little kids running through LAX to get to me. I scoop them both up into my arms, and I hope Kate doesn’t mind hauling all the luggage, because I’m not letting these two go until I have no other choice.
“I missed you guys so much,” I say, glancing at Kate over Shepherd’s head as I say it. I hope she understands that the sentiment is directed toward her as well, although not in the way I might have meant it in the past. It’s just that these last few weeks, I’ve really needed an ally here and our Skype conversations haven’t quite been cutting it. “How about we all go out for ice cream before we go back to my place, huh?”
The kids love that idea, of course. It’s a bit of a delaying tactic on my part, because my apartment here has become pretty sad, empty and quiet. I don’t know how to really explain that to Kate, so I’m going to just put it off as long as I can. Mostly likely, I still won’t know how to explain it, but I can at least delay thinking about it for a while.
We make small talk over ice cream, which mostly consists of the kids telling me all about preschool. Junia is too young to actually be in the class, but she’s tagged along on class trips and things and has plenty to babble about and is so enthusiastic about being part of the class as soon as they will allow her that it just amazes me. Even the simplest, most ordinary things amaze my kids, and god I wish I felt the same way about everyday life.
When they’re done with their stories, Kate gives me a fairly short, terse update on how the family is doing at home. If I weren’t having problems of my own, I would probe her for more. I’m sure there are things she isn’t telling me, probably about Taylor and Natalie. Which brings me to the one question I’m too tactless not to ask her now that we’re finally face to face.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Tay and Nat were separated?”
Kate shoots me a very fake smile. “Let’s talk about that later, okay? Not in front of the you-know-whats.”
It isn’t terribly subtle, but it’s subtle enough that our children, still consumed by their ice cream sundaes, don’t realize they’re being talked about. And Kate is right. It was stupid of me to bring up a subject like that in front of them. Even though I’ve been dying for an answer, I’ll just have to wait a little bit longer for it.
It takes the kids a few more minutes to make a big enough mess that we decide to call the meal done. There’s still ice cream melting in the bowls, but even more of it dripping down their chins and arms. My impatience only grows as we struggle to clean them up and get them back into my truck for the rest of the drive to my apartment, but I hang in there the best that I can. Once we arrive, I know it will still be several minutes before Kate and I have any privacy to talk.
Both kids take off running as soon as the door to my apartment is open. Every little thing is an adventure, and they are both amazed by my new house, it seems. I haven’t done a lot to their bedroom yet, since it has to serve both of them, but they seem perfectly happy with their Disney princess and Spiderman beds. Once their bags have been deposited and they’ve found toys to keep them occupied—a new video game for Shepherd and a set of blocks for Junia—we all head back to the first floor.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask Kate as I escort her into the kitchen and away from little, prying ears.
“No, thanks,” she replies, leaning heavily against the counter. “I guess you want me to answer your question, though.”
“It would be nice.” I say, grabbing myself a beer and opening it. I have a feeling I’ll need to be less than sober for this conversation.
Kate sighs deeply. “I guess I was trying to figure out the right way to tell you… I don’t know why I thought it would be such a big deal for you. I suppose because Natalie isn’t exactly your biggest fan, for reasons I still don’t understand. I’m not even sure I want to understand them. All I know is… it just felt like I needed to find just the right way to tell you, and it’s completely on me that I procrastinated and didn’t tell you before Thanksgiving. I know I left you hanging.”
I shrug. “I can’t depend on you for everything. You’re right that I… well, I could have taken it far worse than I did, but I still didn’t take it well.”
“What is your deal with Nat anyway?”
It’s the one question I hoped she wouldn’t ask. Well, that’s not entirely true. Asking about my deal with Taylor would have been even worse, but the two are so tied up together that I can’t answer one without also answering the other, and I really, really don’t want to answer either.
Seeming to detect my unease, Kate quickly adds, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me. If it’s some personal disagreement or something, then it’s between you guys. But if it’s something I should know…”
“It’s nothing like that,” I nearly snap, then hate myself for it. Way to make myself look guilty. “You know she just never thought I was good enough for you, and the way everything happened… the way we divorced, the fact that I was—am—with Carrick… she’s just being judgmental. That’s all.”
Kate nods, seeming to accept my explanation. It might not be the whole truth, or anything else close to it, but it isn’t all lies. Kate just doesn’t need to know that Nat has far more reasons to judge me, reasons that I hope she will keep quiet now that she and Taylor have reached such a stalemate. I know her blackmail will always hang over my head in some way, but for now, I think the secret is safe.
“Well, that’s more of an explanation than she gave me,” Kate replies. She stares at me for a moment, not judgmentally, but just… searching, I suppose. Finally, she says, “Now, will you answer a question for me?”
“Depends on the question, but probably.”
“What’s going on with you and Carrick?” She asks.
“I knew you were going to ask,” I admit, realizing I really don’t have any sort of lie prepared for her. “We’re just… I don’t know. I did something stupid and now he needs time. I don’t think he’s reconsidering it all, but…”
“He wouldn’t,” Kate says firmly. It almost sounds like a threat, not a reassurance, as though she intends to assure that he won’t reconsider our relationship.
“He might,” I shoot back. “It’s just… it’s stupid and complicated, and I don’t know how to explain it. Or how to fix it. I just have to give him his space.”
“I hate that phrase,” Kate says. “And I know I used to say it to you. That’s how I know it’s crap. I knew it was crap when I said it, but it’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Get some space, take some time and somehow everything will be magically better. But it won’t. You have to either work on it or admit that no amount of working on it will fix it. And you can’t work on it over the telephone.”
By the time she stops talking, she’s almost out of breath. These are things we’ve never really discussed before. We were the sort of people who just ran away and didn’t face our problems, and that’s why I’m allowing Carrick to do the same now. Because it’s all I know, but like Kate says, I know it’s wrong. I know it won’t fix anything. Yet… how do I change it? How do I convince Carrick?
Rather than answer Kate, I decide just to down the rest of my beer as quickly as possible.
“You’ll tell me if I’m overstepping my bounds, right?” Kate asks. “I mean, your relationship with him is technically none of my business, but… well, I just want to see you happy. And you’re doing a good job of faking it, but I know you’re not, and you won’t be until you two fix whatever happened.”
“What if it can’t be fixed?” I ask weakly.
Kate reaches out and grasps my arm, as much to reassure me as to reprimand me, I think, judging by how firm her grip is. “You find a way. Or you don’t. But if you want it to be fixed, then you’ll do what it takes. You two are too new to be like we were. Don’t let it fall apart yet.”
I just stare back at Kate and force a weak smile. I don’t know how to tell her that I think it’s too late. It’s already falling apart, and there’s no one to blame but me. I don’t know how she can be so optimistic when we let our marriage fall apart, but she has to realize that some things can’t be fixed, no matter how much you want them to be. That would require both of us to want it fixed. Carrick doesn’t seem to. I do, but I have a horrible way of showing it. Where we go from here… I just don’t know.
Not wanting to dwell on these awful thoughts anymore, I take a step back toward the living room, to be sure that the kids hear me, and say loudly, “Who’s ready to go out for dinner?”
It’s another delaying tactic, and Kate’s judgmental look says that she knows it. For now, though, she doesn’t call me out on it. For now, she just goes along with what I say, giving me the time and space I need to figure out how to follow her advice… or just continue pretending everything is fine. The latter seems a lot more likely.