Chapter 13 – Sophie
13
SOPHIE
I call James as soon as I drive through the Lehigh Tunnel. He answers right away. As it turns out, the house isn’t officially listed because we both need to sign the paperwork. He has it there and asks if I’d come by instead of him meeting me at my dad’s house. Truthfully, he probably can’t face my dad and my brother, and I can’t blame him for that. I must be getting soft because I agree.
It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon on a warm spring day and my old neighborhood is abuzz. I wave at a neighbor who is walking her yellow labrador retriever around the main road loop of the neighborhood. Kids are playing basketball and tag and riding their bikes. A rush of sadness that I won’t be living here anymore hits me like a punch in the gut. I had such big dreams when we moved here. It was one of the first houses we looked at. I had just started working at the center, James had gotten tenure with the university, and the future was bright. We saw this beautiful white colonial with a two-car garage and black shutters and both fell in love with the what if . Nine years ago when we closed on the house, we made love on the kitchen island. I never would have imagined this would be our fate.
I park in the driveway, next to James’ white Tesla. I am grateful that there doesn’t appear to be anyone else here, but I need to sit in the car and collect myself for a minute before I go inside. I note the For Sale sign with a magnetic banner that reads Coming Soon! A queasy sensation twists in my gut and I practice taking in a few slow, deep breaths. Then I march up our beautiful brick paver pathway to the front porch that we used last year’s tax return to pay for.
James meets me at the front door. “Hi,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Do you want to come in?” I glance down at his feet and see a single box of some of my personal items and I realize, he probably doesn’t want me to come inside. The inside is probably crawling with evidence of another woman living there.
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. We can talk out here.”
James lets out a sigh that I realize is probably the result of relief. He picks up the box and steps out onto the front porch. I sit down on the top step, and he puts the box down next to me, following suit. I realize now this is the first opportunity we’ve had to have an honest conversation since the day I left. I filed for divorce pretty much immediately, and James didn’t contest it. There are so many questions I haven’t gotten answers to but suddenly, I’m not sure if I even want them anymore.
“James, I—” I begin to speak but he cuts me off.
“Please. Can I go first?” he asks earnestly.
I shrug. “Sure.”
“Sophie, I feel horrible. I never meant for this to happen. I feel like the past few months I have been so depressed. I was going through the motions of life. Everything felt black and white and lifeless.”
I want to laugh at him because his description feels like a farce, but I do my best to keep eye contact.
“I think things between us had become so strained. We were both so tired of the fertility treatments, the miscarriages, the hormones. I know you were so sick of it and ready to give up many times, but you hung on for me. You know how much I wanted to be a dad. I know you wanted to be a mom, too, but it has taken such a toll on us. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course I agree, James.” Our problems seem so obvious to me now. We never actually talked about anything. “I wanted to explore other avenues. I wanted to foster or adopt. That never seemed like something you wanted to do. And look, now you’re going to be a dad, and I am still not going to be a mom.” I am exasperated, like he is placing the blame for his affair on me. “I would never have had an affair,” I mutter under my breath.
“I know, Sophie. I really do know that. We hadn’t had spontaneous sex in so long. It was like through all the years of disappointment, something died between us. And then when we had the miscarriage in January, I felt like something died in you, too. You weren’t the Sophie I fell in love with anymore. You were sad all the time. I know that doesn’t make it right. I’m sorry if I am making excuses.” He pauses and sighs. “I just want you to know, I tried to stop seeing her. But I would get home from work and find you in a funk again, and I’d lose my nerve to break things off with her. I tried so hard every day to make you happy. I know you don’t think I was trying but I was. And then eventually, I got tired of trying. I didn’t know what to do anymore. If you had said you wanted to do another cycle, I would have. But once you decided to give up, I couldn’t pull you out of the black hole you were living in. Being with someone else relieved me of that. I never meant for it to go this far. I just needed a break.” He puts his head in his hands. “It was always supposed to be me and you.”
I look sideways at him, and he slowly turns to meet my gaze. I exhale deeply. “It was. But now it’s not. What’s done is done.”
Therapist Sophie understands where James is coming from. One of the things that no one talks about is the effect that infertility has on a marriage. Our marriage had a hole in it, and it would have taken both of us to save it. But I couldn’t see my way out. I needed him to throw me a life preserver and instead, he drove the boat away.
We’re silent for a few moments before James says, “Are you really going to move to Cape May?”
“I’m going to move to Cape May, yes,” I tell him. “It’s the only place I have felt peace for the last seven weeks.” Not wanting to prolong this conversation anymore I say, “Do I have to sign something?”
James pulls some paperwork from a realty office out of the box between us. He’s already signed all the highlighted areas required of him, but there are several places for me to sign and initial. He hands me a pen. We’re silent while I flip through the documents other than him pointing to a few places I missed. When I finish, I stand up and move to take the box, but he beats me to it. We both peer inside. Right on top, there is a small selection of loose wedding photos. Beneath that is a purple embossed keepsake box that if he dug into, he’d find my infertility keepsakes, which are mostly ultrasound pictures and used pregnancy tests—gross, I know.
He reaches in and picks up a wedding photo of us holding hands as we’re walking away but looking back at the camera. Our happiness is palpable. We study the picture together for a moment and then catch each other's gaze. We’re both tearful as we stare into each other’s eyes. James speaks first. “I guess this is it. I never meant to hurt you, Soph.” He wipes a stray tear away from his rosy cheek with his thumb. For the first time, I can see that this has been hard on him too. We’ve been through the wringer together. I hoped we’d come out together, too, but somehow, we got separated along the way.
“I guess so,” I sniffle and shrug. I am sure my tears are a combination of anger and sadness but for some reason, I can’t let him see me ugly cry. He’s held me many times through many dark days, but this is different. He was on my side then. Now he has someone else’s side to be on. He’s never been the cause of the big fat raindrop-size tears threatening to fall. “The end of an era.” I try a small smile. Rubbing my arms to self-soothe, I walk over to the passenger door. I open it and James sets the box on the seat. I walk around to the driver’s side and he follows, watching as I climb in and buckle my seatbelt.
“I will call or email you and let you know what the realtor says.” He ducks his head in the car and kisses my forehead.
All I can do is nod my head before my eyes again fill with tears. I pull the door shut and start the engine. James gives the roof of the car a farewell tap, and I back out of the driveway.
It’s only when I’m on my way to my dad’s house that I let the tears fall.