The Year I Left Read online

  I shook my head. “It’s impossible to change things right now. I’m unsalvageable, unsaveable.”

  “Are you happy, Carin?”

  “No! But that’s the thing. I’ve been this way even before you came into my life. It’s not you. It’s not Jack. It definitely isn’t Charlie. Once I figure it out, I will get better. I can fix myself.”

  “I want to fix you. I can fix you.” Your tone changed drastically. I’d never seen you so meek, never heard you ask for anything this way. You were Matias, the negotiator. The peacock that showed off his feathers with much pomp and circumstance.

  You leaned forward and reached out to me. I held out my arms and you clasped both my hands in yours. We leaned forward, our foreheads almost touching, but not quite.

  “Listen. You have a gorgeous fiancée and a great life ahead of you. Don’t ruin it for an old washed up hag with a son and a husband. This will never bode well. Impulse is always for naught.”

  “For what?” you laughed.

  I laughed right back. “Doing something out of impulse isn’t worth it.”

  You kept a strong grip on my hands, tugging to make a point. “But that’s the thing. This isn’t being impulsive. I’ve been thinking about you, being with you, having you, since I met you three months ago. You’ve invaded my thoughts every minute of the day.”

  I was at a loss for words. How could I tell you that I felt the same way? How could I tell you that you were the only light I’d seen in months? That the feelings I had for you kept me alive, made me want to get better?

  “How could we be so cavalier about this? I have ten years with Jack.”

  You stood and took a seat next to me. You hooked your arm around my shoulder and I leaned on your chest. You buried your nose in my hair and kissed the top of my head. “Time is nothing. People can be married for fifty years and be dead inside for just as long. What you feel, Carina. What I feel, here and now. I could die tomorrow and it would have been a lifetime for me, to have held you like this for ten minutes.”

  I looked up at you and smiled. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

  You kissed my forehead and brushed the tiny wisps of hair that covered my eye. “We invented telenovelas.”

  “Oh, Matias. Please, don’t. Please don’t make this harder for me. I’m so confused. I’m not myself. And these feelings, they distract me. “

  “So I am a distraction?” you asked.

  “You’re more than that. I wish I’d met you earlier in my life.”

  “It’s never the wrong time. Things happen and you make it work. You fit it in your timeline. You don’t get to choose where or when.”

  I scooted away from you so that nothing about us was touching. I had to break this connection. I wanted this so badly; I knew that if I stayed much longer, I would give you everything you wanted from me.

  “I do,” I said, alighting from the couch while you watched me in stunned silence. “I get to choose the time and place. And this can’t be it.” I bent down and brushed my lips upon your cheek. “Please let this go, Matias. For both our sakes.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It is Him

  I left the apartment in time to find Trish combing the makeup aisles, searching for me. I adamantly insisted I’d been there all along before we left; Mean Girls was starting in thirty minutes.

  After the show, Trish thought it would be a good idea to have drinks at the Robert. Unlike the opaque mist that blanketed the afternoon, the evening skies were clear. We could see skyline so clearly, the bustling of the commuters, the buses, and the tourists twenty-eight floors below us. We sat at a table by the window; to my right was Columbus Circle and in front of me was Central Park.

  “Can I tell you again how nice you look tonight?” It was my second Cidre Pomme of the evening. I loved the taste of anything apple. Trish knew that well enough to take me to a place that served it.

  “Surprise! No leggings.” She laughed.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I knew I’d done the right thing by walking away, but I also knew that I’d done it against my will. I hardly heard what Trish was saying, lost in deep thought about the things you and I had talked about.

  “Carin, did you just hear what the gentleman said?” Trish leaned over and tugged on the hem of my sleeve.

  “Oh no, sorry?” I looked up to find a young male server holding two glasses of white wine.

  Trish rolled her eyes.

  “The two gentlemen over there.” He pointed toward two handsome, much younger men with the glasses in his hand. One had dark hair and a perfect nose. The other was the complete opposite, light-haired and fair skinned, just like me and my sister. “Would like to buy your drinks for you.”

  Trish waved at them with a smile. “Please let them know we said thanks.”

  The server set both glasses down and scurried away.

  “You see,” Trish teased. “Now you’re even working your magic all over New York City.”

  “Please.” I set the wineglass to the side.

  “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet all evening. Did anyone call? Anything happen?”

  “It’s just ... I’m so tired of this. It’s all based on the outside. The outside isn’t always the best side.”

  “You’re not making sense. Outside, best side, what?” Trish was losing patience with me. She spoke with a tight jaw, her mouth hardly moving.

  “It’s just that everything is based on looks. No one knows what’s truly going on inside someone’s heart. Nothing is ever as it seems.”

  “Are you referring to yourself, Carin?”

  “It’s a general statement, really.”

  She got this look whenever she didn’t believe me. The same eyebrow raised in unison with the corner of her mouth. “Sure.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I saw the text pop up on your phone last night. From your coworker.”

  “Why can’t you say his first name? His name is Matias.”

  “He’s the reason for all this ... this change in you. You’re not yourself.”

  “I don’t even know what being myself means,” I answered.

  Before she could respond, we watched as the two men who bought our drinks approached our table.

  “Let me handle—” Trish started. I grabbed her hand to stop her from standing.

  “Let them,” I smiled. “This might be fun.”

  We spent half an hour with these two guys, Nate and Jake. They were clearly on the prowl, despite having been informed we were married. The classic New York transients—men on business trips with no ties, no commitments. I remembered Val and Dylan and the way they had been before they had fallen in love. In a foreign city brimming with life, surrounded by beautiful people. Who wouldn’t want to partake in that? Nate suggested we go somewhere else—a salsa club by Times Square for some dancing. Jake wanted to take me home. To his place. Trish watched as Jake openly expressed his attraction to me. And as she stood to leave, she whispered in my ear. “Get this out of your system. I’ll see you at the hotel.”

  Nate stood to walk her to a taxi.

  Jake stayed seated, his eyes glued on me.

  “You are so beautiful. You sure don’t look like the mom of a ten-year-old.”

  “Actually, I feel more like the mom of a twenty-year-old.” I laughed.

  He was quite the looker, with those baby blue eyes and full red lips. So young and so successful. He was a real estate broker in commercial property. I’d heard once that those brokers made millions in commission. He looked very branded—Rolex watch, Yves Saint Laurent shoes. Very much like Jack.

  “Listen, what do you say we boot it out of here? I’ve got a suite at the Dream—we can have drinks and hang out at the rooftop.”

  “Sounds great,” I answered. He looked shocked. I think he’d fully expected a rejection. His face broke out in a smile as he jumped off his chair.

  “Let me go and freshen up first. I’ll meet you outside,” I said.

  I never did meet Jake out
side. Instead, I exited through the back door, out toward an alley and into a waiting Uber.

  I was met with the dim light in the kitchen when I walked into the suite. CNN played at a very low volume, something Trish did whenever she traveled alone. The door to her bedroom was slightly ajar. It was dark in there—I didn’t bother to see whether she was sleeping.

  I took a bottle of water from the fridge, slid the door open to the balcony and sat on the dusty, weathered wicker chair facing the sky. Thirty-five floors below me, cars moved back and forth, sirens wailed and the laughter of partygoers echoed, their voices traveling through the levels between us.

  I rested my chin on the glass barrier and hung my head loosely off the edge. Such a peaceful sight. Everything seemed suspended in time. The cars moved in slow motion. The voices began to blur. Even the sirens played a melody. These sounds beckoned me closer, made me want to float in them.

  If only ... what if ... If I ended it all now, threw myself off this balcony ... Would they be better off? Who would receive the life insurance proceeds? Would it take care of Charlie? Would it be enough to send him to college?

  For a while I got lost in these thoughts, until a jarring voice whispered to me, reminded me that love didn’t mean leaving. Love was about staying. Seeing things through. Most of all, the voice in my head told me that courage and bravery were a product of unconditional love.

  I stepped back and lifted my head. Instead of looking at the ground, I switched my gaze to the sky.

  I had to tell her. If there was anyone I needed to be honest with, it was my sister.

  I ran back inside the suite and knocked on Trish’s door.

  “Trish?” I whispered, my voice low. “Are you still awake?”

  No answer. I pushed the door open. She faced away from me, fast asleep.

  “Trish.” I sat at the edge of her bed and gently rubbed her arm.

  “Carin?” She shot up and leaned against the headboard. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m so sorry to wake you.” I took her hand in mine.

  “What happened? Is it over? Did you ...?”

  “No, no.” I shook my head, still hanging on to her hand. “I left him at the restaurant.”

  “Oh.” Trish held out her hands and touched both sides of my face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes. I just needed to tell you something.”

  She nodded, her palms resting on my cheeks. She wiped the tears that began to form at the edge of my eyes.

  “Trish, I love him. I don’t want to be with anyone else but him.”

  She dipped her head to the side, gesturing for me to climb into bed with her. “Tell me.”

  I slid under the covers and laid my head on her shoulder. “He makes me feel alive. Is it possible, Trish? Could it be that he’s my first love, not Jack?”

  “Alive, how?”

  “He sees me. He sees me for what I am. I can’t explain it, but he’s not into ostentation. There’s nothing flamboyant about him. I’m tired of living on the outside. I want to feel alive. But inside. My inside wants to live.”

  She pulled me closer, wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed my head. “Oh, Carin!” she exclaimed. “Only you can see that. If all is lost with Jack, there’s no sense in keeping this up. I want you to be happy. I just want you to find your peace.”

  “What do I do? Where do I go from here?” I cried. I let it all out of me, sobbing, wailing, shaking uncontrollably. “There is no reason for this! There is no reason to be so sad! To be in love with another man. No, reason. No reason.”

  She held me tight, tried to keep my body from wracking, wrapped the comforter around my shoulders and said nothing.

  “When he’s around, I live for a few brief moments. And then I die all over again.”

  “You’re right.” She placed her lips on my forehead and kept it there for a few seconds. “You can’t live like this. No matter what, you’re my sister and I love you. I’ll support whatever you decide to do, okay? But take your time to think about it. It may be that you’re looking for a change. It doesn’t have to be love. It could be that you’ve outgrown this life and those you love just have to keep up with you.”

  “No matter what happens, I have to tell Jack. I will. I’ll tell Jack. And then maybe I’ll stop being afraid of my feelings.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  GONE

  We left New York three days after that. It was difficult to spend time with the boys knowing what I’d just confessed to my sister.

  But it all worked out. I didn’t forget about you, but Charlie’s excitement over the holidays worked its magic. It helped me to focus on him, on our family. Whether it was going to stay that way or not, it didn’t matter. Jack was his father; he was my son. We were going to play a part in each other’s lives whether together or apart.

  In Chicago one week later, I was back at the office. The weather had turned on me. It was the middle of winter, after all, but one never gets used to the frigid air that swirls around the city. The drabness feels new, even the sting that creeps through your clothing—you’re never really prepared for it, you never really get used to it. Everyone was back from the holidays. Not a single trace of Christmas was left. All that remained of the fifty-foot tree in the lobby was the makeshift stage where violinists and guitar players and young singers had, just a few weeks ago, charmed us with their Christmas carols. Every wreath, every Christmas ornament was gone. New Year. New blank space. That’s symbolic, isn’t it? A clear template to carve out the next three hundred and sixty-five days.

  Jane was the first one I saw when I entered our floor. She was busy sifting through her signature post-it notes, sticking one on top of the other as she checked them off her list. “Happy New Year!” She jumped up. “How was your holiday?”

  “Great! And yours? Did the kids just love the stuff you ordered from FAO?”

  “Our family room looks like a battlefield,” she answered with a smile.

  “Enjoy it. It won’t be long before you’ll be wishing your family room wasn’t so empty.”

  I continued walking toward my office. She followed right behind me. “I’ve organized your meetings for the week. The good news is there’s no travel until the end of the month. Your calendar is updated as of this morning.” She paused before reaching out to touch my arm. “You look different. Rested. Peaceful.”

  There was something to be said about admitting what was in my heart. I placed my hand on hers. “Thank you.”

  “Let me see.” I took a seat at my desk and logged on to my computer. She stood across from my desk and waited. “Can you get Mr. Torres on my calendar this week? I think we still have open items from the Asia deal.”

  I scrolled through my calendar, typing a note here and there.

  “I canceled all your meetings with him.”

  I looked up.

  She continued. “He left. Said he’d be leaving you a folder of papers, but I haven’t seen it yet. Madden said he was going on an indefinite leave to address some family matters.”

  “When was this?”

  “While you were away in New York. Sorry, Carin. I thought he would tell you directly.”

  My heart plummeted so fast, I felt it fall to the ground. I could feel the color drain from my face, first a burn that turned ice cold in seconds. There was a stinging in my eyes and a loud thumping in my chest. I felt faint, my arms falling to my sides. It took a great effort to lift them up and start sifting through the stuff on my desk. Before I realized it, Jane was staring at me, eyes wide at my reaction.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I was so busy with the boys. Maybe he didn’t want to bother me,” I answered. “That’s okay. I’ll send him a note. Maybe we can do a conference call.”

  I switched the tone of my voice. Made sure she couldn’t hear my devastation. Still, I couldn’t get enough air inside me. I was out in the open and yet everything had closed in. I was in the dark. In a box.

  You’d taken a
way my only hope. Hadn’t I just told Trish you were my only light?

  I wanted to tell you. Right after I let Jack know.

  “Do you want me to contact him? See if we can put some time on the calendar?” Jane asked.

  “No, no. I planned to tell you I’ll be working from home next week. So I’ll connect with him myself.”

  “Okay,” Jane said, her face unchanged. “Let me know what he says and I’ll move your schedule around.”

  “Great.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  You’re My Buddy

  At exactly 12:01 a.m. on a Sunday, we were in a line of teenagers, Charlie shifting back and forth, waiting to purchase a game he’d wanted for weeks. These were precious moments for me—in the middle of the night with my son who had simple joys and few expectations. This was normally something Jack would do with him, but I jumped at the chance of taking him while Jack was on a golf trip with friends. It was a ritual father and son had adopted for the past few years, midnight releases and a midnight snack at our favorite neighborhood ice cream parlor. I was one in a slew of bleary-eyed parents, all with the same objective.

  When it was his turn to pay for his game, he proudly showed his points card and grabbed the disc from the cashier’s hand. Once his coveted prize was in tow, we walked to the Shakers next door and took a seat at a booth facing the parking lot. He happily ordered a steak burger and a milkshake; I ordered the same.

  “I’m so excited to play this game!” he exclaimed. “Thanks, Mom, for coming with me.”

  I smiled. “We should have these dates more often. Remember the time we came here with Dad and you guys ordered the kitchen sink?”

  That thing had been huge, filled with ice cream and fruits and condiments I hadn’t even known existed.

  “Dad finished it all,” he said.