Chapter Thirty-Three
TERESA - JOHNSTON, NY
Teresa kicked off her flats and dropped her pocketbook and keys on the counter.
She glanced at the clock on the stove. Five thirty.
The kids were at friends’ houses for dinner, and Ronnie would be here any minute, so the two women would have the place to themselves for a few hours.
Fortunately, Ronnie said she’d pick up takeout on the way over.
“Knock, knock.” Ronnie stood at the screen door, plastic bags of Styrofoam containers in her hands. “I come bearing the best of Carmelina’s,” she said, referring to one of Teresa’s favorite restaurants in New Rochelle.
Teresa opened the door and took one bag out of her hands. “Hey, you,” she said, kissing her cousin on the cheek. “You’re a godsend. I miss that place. Please tell me you got the mozzarella en carrozza?”
“Hon, of course I did. Who in their right mind would go to Carmelina’s without getting that dish?
A crazy person, that’s who.” Ronnie cackled, dumped the other bag on the counter, and pulled Teresa into a big hug.
She let go and stepped back, arms outstretched.
“Let me look at you. You know what you look like? A survivor, that’s what.
I swear, every time I see you, you look stronger and stronger. ” She nodded approvingly.
Teresa laughed and hit her gently on the arm. “Stop it.”
“I’m serious. You’re doing really great, Teresa, you hear me?”
“Thank you. You know what? I am doing better.
Day by day. When Frank left, I didn't think I could go on. I didn't even think I could sleep in our bed alone. But I did it. And I'm still doing it. And each day, there’s a new thing that I learn to do on my own or get through without him. I’m figuring it out.”
Ronnie squeezed Teresa’s arm. “Life, apparently, goes on. You know what this means? You’re going to be okay, sweetie. You’re moving on.”
Teresa smiled, grateful for her cousin’s constant support since the separation. What a long two years it had been.
“So, how’s the new job going? Good?” Ronnie served hearty plates of food for the both of them.
Teresa had enrolled in a class in advanced typing and Gregg shorthand.
She did really well in the class and had heard from the instructor that a nearby children’s hospital had an opening in the psychology department.
For as long as she could remember, Teresa had dreamed of being a psychologist. She loved the idea of studying people and helping patients overcome their problems. Teresa submitted an application, put on one of her favorite outfits for the interview, and landed the job.
She felt like she was truly contributing and knew the doctors and researchers valued her work.
They started giving her more responsibility, and she even got a raise after being there only a short amount of time.
She now made $2.90 per hour. With a forty-hour workweek, that was $116 per week.
It felt like a lot of money to make on her own.
“The job is great.” She nodded, chewing her mozzarella. “Hmm,” she moaned appreciatively and pointed to her plate. “And so is this.”
“I’m glad it’s working out so well. I’m proud of you. And now that you have some more money coming in, maybe it’s time to hire that lawyer and get a divorce.”
Teresa’s stomach flip-flopped at the mention of divorce.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around getting an actual divorce.
She hated the idea of it, considering the time and attention it would take to unravel the marriage and life she’d spent years building up and living.
A divorce was a kind of messy, prolonged death. And expensive to boot.
It would be easier if Frank had died. She could have mourned him and not hated him as much as she did at times.
Time would freeze, and she could remember him and their marriage as they’d been before everything imploded.
She felt horrible for thinking this, but she couldn’t help herself.
If he’d died, she would have been a widow with all the privileges and pity that went along with that title and role.
Instead, she was just a scorned woman with a soon-to-be ex-husband and no “other woman” to blame.
“I don’t know... I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. Soon, but not yet.”
Ronnie nodded. “I know you’re nervous about it, but it’s not as bad as it used to be. Heck, I’ve paved the way for you.”
“I know I shouldn’t, but I still hate what others will think.” Teresa didn’t like admitting this, even to Ronnie.
“Screw them. Let them worry about their own friggin’ lives. Goddamn busybodies.”
Teresa knew the neighbors had whispered how she was separated with two kids and a husband who had cheated on her. If they only knew the truth, they would have had even more to gossip about. Never mind. She couldn’t do anything but continue to improve her situation little by little.
One way of improving her situation in the eyes of others would be to get an annulment.
But that cost much more money than she’d expected—money she didn’t have lying around, ready to hand over to the Catholic church so they could declare that her marriage was a sham and needed to be stricken from the record.
She also hated the idea that an annulment meant her marriage had never truly existed as far as the church was concerned.
It wiped the slate clean. That would mean, by extension, that her children were bastards, born out of wedlock. She refused to do that.
Teresa thought of Anthony and Lena. How could anything that produced such beautiful children be invalid?
She needed to get a divorce at some point, but she dreaded the finality of it. The severity. So for now, she would stay in this limbo period, a wife with no husband and the mother of children whose father didn’t live with his family—alone but trying to graduate to independent.
Afew months later, Teresa attended a community event for the hospital where she worked.
She sat at the table with colleagues from her department, including the psychologists, who always treated her with respect even though she was merely the secretary.
They insisted she use the hospital’s car service, which made her feel important as she sat in the back seat, being driven to and from events by a professional driver.
That night, her ride home was a driver named Larry, who seemed to be behind the wheel frequently when she used the car service. He was easy to talk to, and she’d learned they had some things in common, including being Italian American and having failed marriages.
At a red light, while they were deep in conversation, Teresa looked at Larry’s reflection in the rearview mirror and realized, with a start, that she found him attractive.
She hadn’t looked at a man that way—physically, romantically—in a very long time.
The spark of attraction excited her but also made her self-conscious.
She hoped she wasn’t noticeably blushing.
Larry was talking about getting through his difficult divorce.
“I’m not sure I would’ve made it through that first year after my separation without talking to people who’d been there.
It’s true what they say, you know—divorce, in some ways, is worse than death.
It’s a horrible thing to say, but it’s the honest-to-God truth.
You’re stuck being connected to this person because you have kids with them, and yet all you want to do is cut off all ties.
It would’ve been better if they just didn’t exist anymore. ”
Teresa sucked in a breath. No one had ever said that to her before. And here was Larry, telling her he’d felt the same way about his ex-wife right after his separation. It validated everything Teresa had felt at that delicate time.
She met Larry’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yes, exactly. That’s exactly how I felt too. And I never said it to anyone because I thought it was...”
“Messed up?”
“Yes. And I guess it is. But it’s how I felt. And it’s good to know someone else felt the same way.”
Larry fixed his gaze on her in the mirror, and she felt his eyes boring into her.
She glanced away, embarrassed by his direct stare, but then forced herself to look back.
He was still staring at her, and a smile formed at the corners of his lips.
Before she could change her mind and start censoring her behavior, she smiled back.
She hoped her smile conveyed everything she felt: I’m scared.
Don’t hurt me. I want to love again, but I don’t know if I can trust. Be gentle with me. Love me. Adore me. Don’t leave me.