12. CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 12
Gray
" A imee," I roared.
It was late, but we were still in the office finishing up a tender that we were on deadline for.
She popped her head in. "Almost done, and I can email it to you for approval in ten minutes."
"My wife called today?"
"Ex-wife, you mean?" She sauntered in with a smile.
I was really starting to fucking hate this woman. " My wife called today?"
"Yes." She rolled her eyes.
"She left a message."
Aimee shrugged. "She always does."
"What was the message?" I asked with gritted teeth.
"Always the same. Ask him to call me back."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She chuckled. "When I first started, Gray, every time I did you grumbled and said you wished she didn't call so much. So, I stopped telling you."
"But I told you she left, so you knew this was important," I accused.
"More the reason not to tell you."
It wasn't Aimee's fault, I realized. This was my fault . I'd given everyone in my life carte blanche to fuck with my wife.
"Next time she calls, you let me know immediately. Actually, I will reroute my phone, so I get my calls myself from now on."
"Gray, I'm your assistant; it's my job to—" she protested.
"You no longer have to field my cell phone calls." I picked up my phone and removed call forwarding, which was set up for the long hours we worked. My kids texted more than they called, so I never missed out on them wanting to reach me. But apparently, I did ignore Rose's messages because I was a useless fucking husband.
"Gray? Are you okay?" Aimee's concern grated on my nerves
"No, Aimee, I'm not. I'm trying to get my wife back home, so it doesn't help when you don't tell me when she calls."
Aimee sighed. "She left weeks ago, Gray."
My jaw tightened. "Please send that tender out; remember to cc everyone on the team so they can all give their input. Thank you, Aimee."
I was already angry when I called Rose, and then I let my temper run away. I didn't need anyone to tell me that my first conversation in three weeks with my wife didn't go well. If anything, I may have helped her feel better about her decision to leave me.
I needed help.
I needed… Rose .
Why couldn't she just come home? I just needed to hold her and….
I hung my head in shame. I yelled at her. Instead of saying , I love you, come home , I told her she could go fuck herself.
Feeling helpless, I called Holden.
"I talked to her."
"And?"
"I think I may have damned myself some more."
"Atta boy," he said sarcastically. "What did you say?"
I gave him the Cliff's Notes.
"Wow! You go big, and obviously, your wife ain't goin' home."
"I don't know what to do, Holden."
I'd never felt this helpless, this out of control in my life.
"Gray, you want your wife back?"
"Yes."
"Then man the fuck up and go see her. Tell her how you feel. And before you do any of that, understand you wronged this woman. If and a big if …she forgives you, you make it right. Otherwise, you make sure she's financially comfortable and leave her be."
I didn't know when it happened, but my younger brother had become wiser than me.
"I can't breathe without her," I confessed, rubbing my chest. It hurt to be without Rose. It fucking hurt!
"Well, you're going to have to learn to because she doesn't deserve this—"
"When did you become such a fan of Rose?" I scoffed, annoyed with him for being right .
"Years ago. Every time we were together, and I saw how she took care of y'all and how Bonnie fucking didn't, I knew you had it made. I can't believe you fucked it six ways to Sunday like this."
After I finished being reamed by my brother, I called Willow. She told me that Mike didn't want to see either Jude or me, and they were indeed going to Angel Island for Christmas.
"That's good, honey," I told her.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I don't want your mama to be alone for the holidays. Can you send me the details of Malou's B&B?"
Once I got the information, I looked up Angel Island and Angel's Rest Bed & Breakfast. The website's photos portrayed a stunning scene, validating Rose's enthusiastic recommendations when she had attempted to persuade me to join her.
Malou was her best friend, family really, and I didn't know her because I hadn't bothered to, because I hadn't gotten to know the people in Rose's life before she met me. Ignoring her needs had become a …habit . I didn't know when it started, but the more Rose worked to become a better Mrs. Rutherford, apparently, the more I worked to become a bigger asshole.
That night, when I lay in bed, I pulled out Rose's old phone. She didn't have a passcode. When I suggested it, she'd laughed that she didn't have anything to hide, and it would just be a nuisance.
I was relieved to see that she had not erased her phone, and I wished I'd gone through it earlier.
I looked through her messages—so many unanswered from me and the kids.
I went through her photos—all of her family, none of her. Not even a selfie. Rose was not on any social media and only took photos to preserve memories.
I went through her email, and it was obvious she rarely used it because it was empty except for some spam. I opened and closed apps as a way to piece her life together.
I went into her Gmail app again and started to scan her folders. One was called simply Mine . I went through it.
My eyes caught a subject line: Feeling Invisible Again.
I opened the email, which opened my eyes…wide.
Dear Dr. Mercer,
It happened again, and that's why I'm sending you this email. I'm so relieved we have an appointment tomorrow.
It was Labor Day weekend. And once again, the family was over. We had a barbecue. Gray invited people from work. His assistant was there. I know he's not a cheater, but he does spend a lot of time with her, and the truth is everyone thinks he's sleeping with her. I don't know how I feel. I don't know how to talk to him about how I feel. Jude made fun of me again. This time it was about a famous quote that I mangled. Again, it was about how I don't have a college degree.
Last night, I laid out pills in the bathroom. I counted twenty of them. I watched them for nearly a half hour. I threw all the Ambien away this time. It's too much of a temptation, you know?
I feel like I'm disappearing in my own body, and no one can see me.
Words of affirmation for today: I possess the strength to navigate the changes in my life with grace and courage.
I'll see you tomorrow.
Best regards,
Rose
There was a reply from Dr. Mercer.
Dear Rose,
I'm glad you wrote this down. Every time you have thoughts of self-harm, immediately write down your feelings, make them explicit. You can call me anytime.
Remember your affirmations, and I can guarantee you that you are indeed strong enough to navigate the changes you want to make in your life. Let's talk more tomorrow.
Regards,
Dr. Marlene Mercer
She'd said she wanted to kill herself, and I'd gotten angry, thinking she was just trying to make me feel guilty. But she had been thinking about it to the point that her therapist had asked her to write every time she had such feelings.
My heart hammered as I read on.
Subject: It Happened Again
Dear Dr. Mercer,
Malou told me yesterday that she has months, not years. I'm trying to process this, but my emotions feel selfish in the shadow of her battle. How do I support her through this when, inside, I'm falling apart?
I wish I were the one with cancer so she could live. I wish I was dying. She deserves to live more than I do. Yesterday, when I was driving, I kept thinking how it would be to let go. Everyone would think it was an accident. No one would have to know.
Would Gray care? Would the kids? I don't know. I'm sure they'd be sad, but I also think they'd be happy after a while, happy to be rid of me. Am I a horrible person for feeling this way?
I'm turning forty soon. It's as if the ground beneath me is shifting, and I'm not sure where to step next.
Best regards,
Rose
I had to brush my tears away so I could see the screen.
Subject: Canceling appointments
Dr. Mercer,
Yesterday was our 20th anniversary. It came and went without a word from Gray. No acknowledgment, no recognition. It's like we're strangers sharing a home. I keep wondering if he ever forgave me for getting pregnant, for changing the course of our lives so irrevocably.
I feel so disconnected—from Gray, from my kids, from the life that I worked so hard to build. It means nothing. I've decided to leave. I'll stay with Malou as I'd planned. I'm taking some money, but you know about the prenup so just enough to survive. I'll set up teletherapy with you as soon as I can afford it. I'm really sorry about this.
Best regards,
Rose
I read the reply from Dr. Marlene Mercer.
Dear Rose,
I am converting all our future appointments to teletherapy. Don't worry about payment. We can work that out in the future. We shall keep our weekly appointments. Let me know if you need to change the time.
I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself for being the person you need to be.
Let's talk on Wednesday. If you need me before that, call or text me. You can always reach out to me at any time.
Regards,
Dr. Marlene Mercer
It was evident that Rose's therapist was concerned about her patient to the extent that she was going to keep seeing her without getting paid. That's how fucked up the situation was, and I'd probably exacerbated it when I talked to Rose today.
I looked up Dr. Marlene Mercer. She had a practice close by. I made an appointment online, and thankfully she had an opening for an introductory session of thirty minutes the following day.
I knew she wouldn't tell me anything about her conversations with Rose, but she took care of my wife and maybe she could help me be a better person who deserved the woman she'd kept alive. It would also give me a chance to set up payment for Rose's therapy.
The next day, I called the kids early in the morning after letting Aimee know I was taking the day off. I didn't want to think about work or put up with my assistant’s longing looks. I needed to figure out how to get my efficient EA out of my life. There was a smugness about her like she was waiting for me to tell her that now my wife had left, and she and I could get it on.
Christ!
"I sent you a couple of screenshots. These are emails your mother sent to her therapist," I explained to Willow and Jude on the phone. "When…when your mama was feeling weak."
I'd debated if I should share Rose's emails to her therapist with the kids and decided I must. I already violated Rose's privacy, and this would help them see as I had how badly we'd fucked up with the woman who had been taking care of us, who deserved better.
"Weak?" Jude asked quizzically.
"Oh my God," Willow cried out, and I surmised she'd already started to read the emails.
I gave them ten minutes, and when they came back on the video call, Jude was crying. "I've been talking to someone, and apparently, I've been treating Mama like crap because I'm working through some of my own insecurities. I…have no excuse and not even a better explanation. Sometimes kids do this, take their feelings out on one parent."
"Mike thinks that we all treat her like this because she lets us and…not that it's her fault, because Mama shouldn't have to teach her family to respect her. I can't believe Mama wanted to kill herself," Willow sniffled.
"And I'm the asshole who kept making her feel small," Jude sobbed. "How can I ever make this up to her, Dad? How?"
"Y'all, I got you beat on screwing up," I announced wearily and told them about my phone call with Rose.
"Wow, Dad, you really screwed the pooch," Willow agreed.
"What are we going to do?" Jude asked.
I was formulating a plan, but I needed a couple of days to finalize it.
"We're going to bring your mama home by showing her how much we love and cherish her."