The Year I Left Page 5

  “In the dead of winter,” I added. “Jack loves going there when there’s nothing to see but wooly hats, marshmallow-man coats, and frozen churches.”

  Jack smirked at me, his lips stretched in a straight line. “As you can see, my wife hates the cold.”

  You laughed. “Well, my fiancée loves it. I’m more of a beach guy myself.”

  I felt my neck twist in a knot as it boomeranged from Jack to you. I caught myself in the middle of the jumbled mess in my head, opened my mouth to say something and then quickly shut it. Jack watched as I nervously took a drink of my water and placed the glass down before bringing it back to my lips.

  I’d been wrong all along. In my warped head, I’d thought you were making a play for me. Turns out, you were just a really friendly guy.

  “Apparently, you don’t know everything about each other,” Jack said in a hushed tone.

  I left both of you to your own conversation and focused on the sounds around me. Someone dropped a glass.

  No, someone had flung a glass to the floor. It was a woman, now wagging a finger at a morose man who stared at his feet. All that drama in public, I never understood.

  I traced my fingers along the grooves of the table and imagined it was a winding road that led me to a buried treasure. Neither of you noticed how I was in my own little world, making up a story about a girl who followed the squirly rainbow and fell in love with a leprechaun.

  Love.

  Here we go again with love. Why does it always have to be about love?

  “Carin?” You brushed your fingers across my arm.

  “Where’s Jack?” I asked, snapping my head sideways.

  “He went to the washroom. Are you okay?”

  You had noticed.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I just don’t think you’re here.”

  Chapter Nine

  Pretty Woman

  Selda was off on weekends. It used to be the best day of the week to reacquaint myself with my home. During the week, I’d hand over the reins to Selda who constantly rearranged the Tupperware, the dishes, and the pots and pans. I tried a few times, but the repetitive instructions just got too exhausting, took too much energy from me. Saturdays were my days to put everything back in its usual place. I prided myself on that.

  Or at least I used to. Now, Saturdays were my days to hide. For the past few months, I’d sit at the top step of our long winding staircase and stare at the branches of the big willow tree just outside our front door. My mind was blank on most days, but on the days I got myself together, I’d curl up in front of the TV and watch movies.

  I had just managed to crawl out of bed with the intent of brewing myself a cup of tea. The doorbell rang once. I thought it was a package. I ignored it until it rang again, thrice, and then incessantly.

  You stopped pressing the button as soon as I opened the door.

  “Matias?”

  “Did you get home okay? I left before the valet—” There you stood holding a basket wrapped in blue cellophane.

  “I drove,” I said, interrupting you. “Jack had quite a bit to drink.”

  “I’ll say.” You smiled. “He’s very ...” You paused as if in deep thought. “I don’t know the word, carinoso in Spanish. All over you.”

  “Well, he’s my husband.”

  “And he gets what he wants, I suppose,” you said under your breath.

  I pretended not to hear you.

  “May I come in?”

  I nodded before retreating against the door.

  You stepped inside, smiling as you kicked off your shoes and offered me your gift. I stood speechless for a second, hands on the basket, eyes on your psychedelic colored socks. You walked toward the living room, ignoring the fact that I was still in my favorite Target red and black striped pajamas and a long-sleeved camouflage shirt. Mismatched to the hilt.

  “Nice,” you said as you moved your head from side to side, observing the all-white décor and gray and black accents. “A little too cold for me, but I’m sure you weren’t the one who designed this room.” You bent down to touch the lambskin pillows. “Spanish, no?”

  “What are you doing here?” I repeated.

  “Movie day,” you said, your eyes pinched tight and your grin kind of cringy. You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet, like a child with a secret he couldn’t wait to share.

  “Movie what?”

  “Look in the basket,” you instructed, taking it from me and splitting the wrapper right down the middle. “We have popcorn, M&Ms, a bottle of your favorite, Mesh and Bone. And your three all-time favorite movies.”

  “How did—?” I sat on the couch and gestured for you to sit across from me.

  “Jane. She gave me some intel on your favorite snacks. Madden, on the other hand, told me all your favorite movies.”

  “And you’re in my house because ...?”

  “Because I’m a loser in the US with no life and I need the company.”

  “You’re not a loser,” I offered.

  “Well, neither are you,” you offered back. “Even if you stay in your pajamas all day.”

  I dipped my hand in the basket and pulled out three DVDs. “Pretty Woman. Breakfast Club. Less than Zero.” I laughed. “I can’t believe Madden even remembered. It was that mad crush I had on Andrew McCarthy and Richard Gere!”

  “Who are both very old by now,” you reminded me.

  I shook my head, suddenly realizing how unkempt I looked with my hair in a bun and not a trace of makeup. My mother’s golden rule was never to leave the house without your eyebrows. Technically, I hadn’t left my house. You had just invited yourself to it.

  “Look, I really appreciate this. It’s so sweet of you. But I’ve got things going on today.”

  “Like what?” you asked, leaning back into the couch and stretching out your right arm. “I also know from Jane that Jack is away in Arizona on a golf trip and that Charlie is at a sleepover.”

  “I’m going to kill her.”

  “I thought she knew your calendar a little bit too much.” And when I didn’t lighten up my glare, you said, “Come on, Carin. I am trying here.”

  I sighed, my shoulders arching forward. It wouldn’t hurt to have some company that day. If you weren’t at my door, I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. If I hadn’t gotten out of bed, I would have sunken deeper in my thoughts and taken out my anxiety on something more harmful than snacks and a movie.

  Besides, I began to notice this thing about you. You were funny in your biting sarcasm, and you actually saw through the façade I worked so hard to place in front of me.

  And then all of a sudden, I felt guilty. There was a man in my house. I was alone with a man in my house. Not just any man. Someone I actually enjoyed spending time with.

  “Fine. But the snowcaps are mine and the M&Ms are yours.” Instead of leading you downstairs to the game room, I walked straight through the living room and out of the glass French doors. At least no one could say we were alone inside my house. We would be alone outside my house. Well, not really alone. We had Brutus and the wooden owl sitting right on top of our deck to ward off the birds.

  “Holy shit.” You followed me through the doors and into the all-brick deck complete with an outdoor stainless steel kitchen and a brick-enclosed TV.

  “Outdoor TV? Do you have to take it in during the winter?” You survived on touch, I think. Using your hands to establish contact. You ran your fingers along its edges.

  “Nope. I think it’s a special one. We leave it out here in the winter, uncovered. And it survives the snow, the cold, the rain.”

  “Now, this is cool. Are those Martin Logan electrostatics?” You pointed to two tall cylindrical speakers on either side of the bar. “Built in?”

  “Matias! You are being very technical right now. I have no idea! These are all Jack’s little toys.” I waved my hands and directed you to the couch directly in front of us. “The DVD player is underneath the wine cabinet.” I handed you all t
hree discs before walking to the steps to summon Brutus. “Buddy! Where are you?”

  Brutus emerged from under the built-in seats at the bottom of the deck. He crawled slowly toward me, his ID tags making the all-familiar clinking sound. His footsteps were heavy and slow, no matter how excited he was to see me. I ran down to pick him up, letting out a silent grunt in the process. “Come here, you heavy baby,” I whispered in his ear. “Don’t tell Daddy.”

  I recognized the movie you chose to watch first. We sat down at the same time, Brutus between us. He laid his head on my thigh as I scratched his ear. “Now, we’re complete.” I smiled at you. “And Pretty Woman. Great choice.”

  The sounds of summer were all around us despite it being early fall. The birds still chirped; the warm breeze and the oscillating leaves of the willow trees made it a perfect day to be outdoors.

  There we were in the early afternoon sun, drinking wine and eating peanuts. We laughed when Brutus began to snore. Vivian slowly fell in love with Edward and I ... well, I forgot that just hours ago, I’d been sad.

  “Matias,” I began, maybe as a way of cutting through the stickiness of the on-screen kissing scene. “I’m sorry about the other night. I guess I was really just so tired.”

  “Don’t apologize. We all have our things.”

  “Our things, yeah.” I laughed. “I’m sorry about my thing.”

  You took a sip of your wine before refilling your glass. “You’ll learn that I also have my thing.”

  We smiled at each other before slipping back into a comfortable silence.

  When she allowed Edward to kiss her, you turned to me.

  “So tell me, how many frogs did you have to kiss to get this one?”

  “Jack’s a frog now?”

  I sat up. Before then, I had been fully relaxed and reclined, my head on the armrest and my legs tucked under my knees. Brutus no longer separated us. For some reason, he’d ended up on your right. I think he moved when I went to get us more snacks. I hadn’t noticed. I was too happy to have company. Happy that the day was going to pass without a smidge of regret or deep thought.

  “You know what I mean,” you answered, still looking at me.

  “Guess.”

  “A hundred.”

  “Zero,” I squeaked, raising my chin, triumphant. “He was my first.”

  “Huh. You didn’t date in college? Were you weird?”

  “I was too busy studying and working and trying to take care of my mother. Jack just appeared and swept me off my feet,” I said. “And maybe a little weird. You?”

  “Finally settling down,” you said, then downed what was left of your wine. You didn’t look me in the eye as you would normally. Instead, you stared straight at the screen just as Edward climbed the rickety fire escape to rescue Vivian.

  We sat in silence until the credits rolled.

  “How sweet. She got the fairytale.” I let it slip out and then regretted it.

  I stood and crossed over your knees to take Brutus back into my arms. When I leaned down to reach for him, you ran your fingers along my cheek and tucked in a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  “Did you get yours, Carin?” You spread your arms in the air. “All this. Is this your fairytale?”

  “Yes. Of course. Of course, it is.”

  Chapter Ten

  Trouble

  I did a pretty good job at subsisting for a few weeks by living in the moment and casting aside the changes I felt. It was like fending off an impending storm, with just enough divine intervention on my side to get me through each day. Working insane hours helped a lot. By the time I’d arrive home, dishes were done, homework was ready to be checked, the laptop was open and ready for more emails until it was time to go to sleep.

  Jack seemed happy. We had always been such great friends, making sure to talk about our days and do some immediate planning regarding Charlie’s frenetic sports schedule. That third week in October, when I pulled in the driveway after a school pick-up, Trisha stood waiting by the door. She wore running shorts and a silly-looking fanny pack with her hair up in a bun and earphones hanging from her neck and past her waist.

  Even in her most casual moments, she was stunning. We were like night and day. Trish with the exotic dark hair and dark eyes, covert and often furtive, and me with the lighter complexion, light hair, and transparent eyes. My mom used to say that secrets couldn’t survive in these eyes. I guess her passing took that light away too.

  I waved at her and motioned for her to wait.

  “Charlie, get the mail, please. I’ll be outside with Auntie Trish if Dad looks for me.”

  “Yup,” he said, springing out of the car, kissing his aunt, and running off in two seconds flat.

  The closer I got, the more I could see how unhappy she looked. I pointed at the brick steps and motioned for us to sit.

  She remained standing, both hands on her hips, her face expressionless but her tone admonishing. “Did you check your messages?”

  I pulled my phone out of my purse. “No.”

  “Check them now.”

  I looked up at her. Something was unraveling. “What is this, Trish? Just tell me.” Ashen face, sweaty palms. Just like in high school when my mom caught me skipping class.

  “Jack has been calling you all day. Where were you?”

  “At an offsite! We had to surrender our phones at the door. You know I can’t—”

  She stared straight ahead, showing me that she was done listening to all the reasons I’d repeated over and over again. “Your husband called panicking. He tried to buy a car today, called me when he couldn’t reach you. His credit was denied, and he was so sure your credentials got hacked.”

  “Shit.” I buried my face in my hands. “Shit! Where is he now?”

  Brutus came to me, nuzzled his nose into my chest, ecstatic as always that I was home. I held on to him as though doing so would make everything go away.

  “At the bank, straightening everything out.”

  I stood up and hastened back toward the car. “I need to get to him. It’s not the bank’s fault.”

  “What?” Trish chased after me. “Carin, text him back but don’t leave. We need to finish this conversation.”

  I turned to her and slumped against the car door, then slowly slid down until my backside hit the ground. “I haven’t paid the bills.” I held my head between my knees. “It’s my fault.”

  Trish took her place on the ground next to me. “Being late once doesn’t do that to your credit, I don’t think.”

  “Sometime earlier in the year, I just couldn’t get myself to sit down and pay the bills. I was just so tired of doing everything myself. Then the next month came, and the next, and I’d get so overwhelmed every time I tried to get caught up. I haven’t answered our phone since February.”

  “That’s eight months ago,” Trish said. “Oh god.” And then a realization. “Charlie’s tuition?”

  “Jack paid it last week when they called him directly.” My eyes began to cloud with tears. “I missed Brutus’ latest checkup. I can’t get myself to do anything related to our home, let alone take him to the doctor! All I want to do is work and get as far away as possible from here.”

  “Why?”

  “I feel like a fake. I don’t love Jack anymore. Everything’s changed.”

  She gave away no reaction. Sat still, staring at a big, tall tree. “You do. That doesn’t just change. I think it’s your work. You’re burnt out.”

  “You keep saying that. Exhaustion doesn’t change feelings.” I lifted my arm to rub the back of my neck.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “What?” I quickly balled my hand into a fist, afraid she’d noticed the scars.

  “This.” She tugged at my red bracelet. “Is that new?”

  “No,” I said, pulling my arm back.

  “A new bracelet. Cartier, no less.” She gasped, still staring at the red silky string knotted around two white gold rings clasped around each other. “Wh
y?”

  “I was so stressed last week I needed to occupy myself. Buy something.”

  “You’re spending like crazy and not paying bills. You’re sleeping all day on weekends. Carin! Do you see that something is seriously wrong? You used to yell at me about money management all the time! You were the organized one, the one who never took risks.”

  “I feel trapped. Like I’m in a coffin with no room to breathe. I can’t stand to be near Jack. I resent everything about him.”

  She drew her shoulders back, eyes wide and her hand to cheek as if I’d slapped her face. “What? Where is this coming from?”

  “I don’t know. After Mom! Did I ever really love him? Was it just because I got pregnant with Charlie?”

  “If that’s the truth, if that’s how you feel,” she said, “then you have to tell him.”

  “Tell him what?” I asked, exhaling loudly. “It’s not like he did anything wrong. It’s all me. It’s the way I feel about him. About my life. About everything.”

  “He can help you sort things out. If not, you can go get help. The two of you can get some counseling.”

  I shook my head. There were dead leaves all around us, blowing in the wind. The pretty summer flowers were gone, and instead of the majesty of fall, I saw winter. I saw the loss of life, the bland, white blanket of snow and the frigid ground.

  I shuddered to think about what my heart would be like then—slowly decaying. There was nothing beautiful around me anymore.

  We both stayed silent, and she took my hand. “There’s someone else, isn’t there? That guy. Jack told me about him.”

  “What guy?”

  “The new guy at your office. Charlie told Paul he met him in London. Jack says he calls you a few times a day.”

  “For work, Trish,” I said calmly. “I need to build him into my succession plan. That’s all.”