Chapter 8 #2
Danny: Hey, I’m planning on going to see Mom tonight too. So I’ll just pick you up.
I stared at the text and tried not to let my annoyance get the better of me.
I’d spoken with Eldridge—Danny’s father—a few days ago and set up a time to come and visit Diane on Friday afternoon. I didn’t realize I’d be sharing visitation with my ex.
Guilt followed swiftly on the heels of that thought. Diane only had so much time left. She should be spending as much of it as possible with her loved ones, Danny included. I was the interloper here.
Me: I’d prefer to drive myself.
Danny: It’s no big deal. I’ll see you at 4:30.
I sighed. He knew what time I liked to leave school. It would be tight getting home and changed before he picked me up, especially because it was the weekend and I was fully planning on stealing a rabbit again.
I’d just plan on leaving a few minutes early. I knew how impatient Danny could be, and I didn’t want to put him in a bad mood before seeing his mother.
At 3:45, April texted to let me know Morris had left for the day. I gathered my things and hustled down the hallway with the pet carrier I’d bought. I was in and out and home by 4:06 p.m. with Oreo in tow.
She had a brand-new pen and bunny house in the primary bedroom.
It seemed like a pretty good use of the space since I wasn’t using it.
Once she was settled with fresh food and water, I hurried to change clothes and grab the applesauce cake I’d made for Diane.
It was her favorite, and Eldridge had mentioned she’d been reluctant to eat lately.
I managed to slip out the front door just as Danny was pulling into the driveway. The house was a mess, and I didn’t want him in there, judging me and reminding me what a poor housekeeper I was.
The short car ride was fraught with awkwardness in between stretches of silence. How did you make small talk with someone you’d been married to for thirteen years?
My eyes caught on his hands gripping the steering wheel and the bare ring finger there. I made myself look out the window for the rest of the drive.
I was relieved when we arrived at the small brick ranch-style home that Danny had grown up in.
That relief was short-lived.
Eldridge took the cake from my hands and ushered me inside to the kitchen. It was dim and quiet, like the house was already in mourning.
Danny’s parents were older than mine, in their late sixties. They’d started their family with two daughters and were almost forty by the time Danny came along.
It felt strange to be back. I’d attended so many holidays here and cooked countless dinners, been squeezed around an oval dining table with my extended family. But now I was caught somewhere between the past and the present, a stranger with a familiar face.
Eldridge didn’t treat me like a stranger, though. He enveloped me in a huge hug. “Hey, Bonnie girl. We’ve missed you.”
My eyes welled as I clutched the older man. He still smelled like Old Spice and JFG Coffee, a quiet, calm presence who’d always thought of me like a daughter.
“I’ve missed y’all too,” I choked out.
I could hear Danny in the bedroom down the hall, speaking to his mother. There hadn’t been any other cars in the driveway, so I knew Danny’s sisters were giving us some space.
Eldridge pulled away with a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Bonnie. I don’t know what’s gotten into Danny.” I knew he wanted to say more on the subject, but I shook my head a little, and he nodded. “I just appreciate you coming to see Diane before—well, I appreciate you coming.”
“Of course,” I replied, squeezing his hands in mine.
The urge to apologize was right there on the tip of my tongue, to say I was sorry for staying away.
But I knew that was a lie. I’d needed time and distance.
While I hated what the Jensens were going through now, I knew my role in their lives had changed.
Some things just couldn’t stay the same.
I made my way to the bedroom, swallowing hard when I caught sight of Diane sitting up in bed.
It was a shock to the system. It had been a few months since I’d seen Danny’s mother, but in that time she’d clearly lost weight.
The lines on her face were more pronounced, and she looked tired and worn down.
“There she is,” Diane said, grinning at me. “Danny, give us some time to visit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Danny murmured before rounding the bed.
As Danny moved by me toward the door, he suddenly leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. I stiffened in response, but didn’t want to cause a scene in front of his mother. She was still smiling at me, blue eyes warm in a weathered face. Then she patted the spot next to her on the bed.
I shook off my unease and sat down near Diane’s legs, facing her.
She clutched my hand in both of hers. “It is so good to see you, honey.”
“You too,” I managed.
Diane and I chatted for the next half an hour. It had always been easy between us, and apparently, that hadn’t changed even though I wasn’t her daughter-in-law anymore.
She didn’t bring up Danny or anything related to the divorce. She talked about the two nurses who checked on her in the mornings and evenings and helped manage her pain. She told me about Danny’s sisters and their families, updating me on their lives.
About twenty minutes into my visit, Eldridge came in with three plates of applesauce cake for us. Diane made a fuss over it and even managed to eat half of the giant slice her husband had cut for her.
They’d been married a long time, and while neither were particularly demonstrative in their affection, they’d always been steady.
I could see their love clearly right now.
In the way Eldridge looked quietly relieved while watching her eat.
With each bite she managed, some of the tension loosened in his shoulders.
That might not have been a flashy sort of love, but it was the kind that endured.
Caring for someone when they needed it, in sickness and in health.
It was hard to take, all this feigned normalcy. I wanted to cry. I wanted to wrap my arms around Diane’s thin shoulders and tell her I was so damn sorry. That none of this was fair.
Instead, I made sure my eyes stayed dry and my tone upbeat. I stayed until Diane’s lids started to droop and her evening nurse arrived. I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her, promising to visit again soon.
Then Danny and I got out of the way and back in the car.
He made a few attempts at conversation, but I was too worn out by my own emotions to manage his.
My heart hurt for Diane and the rest of the Jensens.
Seeing her so weak had hit me hard. There was a difference between knowing someone was dying and then facing it head-on.
I wanted to be out of this car and alone.
I thought I might have mumbled “Thanks for the ride,” but truthfully, I couldn’t remember. I got out of the car as soon as it pulled to a stop, eager for escape and solitude.
But Danny parked the car and turned it off, following me up the driveway to the front door.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said, footsteps hurrying to catch up. “It meant a lot.”
How many times had I heard his boots outside on this very pathway? It was a slap in the face to hear them now.
I stopped my frantic retreat and closed my eyes briefly before turning to face him. His mother was dying. I shouldn’t be so selfish and callous. “Of course. It was no trouble. I hate that this is happening to her—to all of you.”
Danny nodded, looking down at his shoes.
I reached for the door, hoping that was the end of it. I needed to get away. I couldn’t do this with him. Not right now, when my grief was so fresh, my emotions out of control and vibrating beneath my skin.
“So, how have you been?” he said quickly.
And when I turned back to face him, he was closer, at the bottom of the narrow porch stairs.
I didn’t get a chance to answer or sigh or scream or any of the other things I wanted to do because Danny placed a hand on the railing and said, “Because you look good, Bon. Have you lost weight? That stubborn ten pounds you were always trying to get rid of?”
Then he smiled, blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
And something in me cracked wide open.
“What?” I demanded, tone hard and incredulous.
I’d ignored the liberties he’d taken tonight.
The kiss in front of his mother. The hand on my lower back, ushering me to and from the car.
How he’d tried to take my hand on the drive home.
But I couldn’t just sit back and take it anymore.
I couldn’t keep the peace and my mouth shut at the same time.
Danny was taking advantage of the situation, weaponizing my grief and his, too.
I could only do this if there were boundaries in place. Everything felt too tenuous, a delicate balance that kept me functioning as one half of a former whole.
He straightened, perhaps sensing imminent danger. “I just wanted to talk. Is that so bad?”
“What do you want me to say, Danny?”
Exasperated, he threw up his hands. “I don’t know. Tell me about your day or your students. Whatever you want.”
I stared at the man I thought I’d spend my life with, suddenly realizing how starved for attention I was by the end.
A year ago—hell, six months ago—I would have done almost anything to have Danny show any sort of interest in my life.
I would have lapped up any little crumb of affection.
Taken what I could get and been grateful for it.
Seen it as some sort of sign that things were turning around.
But now? Now, I was only angry.
“You don’t get to ask about my day or my job,” I gritted out bitterly. “That’s something reserved for boring married couples. Isn’t that right?”
“You don’t have to get so—”
“You want to know how I am?” I interrupted and dropped down a step to glare at him face-to-face.
“If I’m happy or some bullshit like that?
Which is it? You hope I’m doing fine without you, or so broken I can hardly function?
You want to hear that I can’t use fabric softener anymore because I remember how it smelled on your skin?
Or how I found one of your shirts misplaced with my things and slept in it for a week?
Or how I’m living out of the guest room now because I can’t bring myself to sleep in our bed? Is that what you want to hear?”
His mouth opened and closed, suddenly unsure in the face of such brutal, devastating honesty.
I’d never spoken to him this way. Our fights had always been mild, passive-aggressive spats that cleared themselves up after a few hours or days of silent treatment. Even when Danny had confessed his infidelity, we hadn’t had a knockdown, drag-out fight. I’d mostly been too sad.
But that wasn’t to say we didn’t know how to hurt one another.
You couldn’t spend so much of your life with someone without knowing the sensitive spots, the places that bruise the easiest. After some conversations with my therapist, I could see now that Danny had withheld affection—something that had always been important to me.
In the months we’d been apart, I’d foolishly hoped for a moment like this. One where he cared enough to ask after me, to maybe miss me a little. But now that it was here, I saw it for what it was—manipulation. And for the first time since we’d separated, I didn’t think I wanted my husband back.
Maybe I wasn’t happy . . . yet. But I hadn’t been happy before either. My fingertips had forgotten the feel of his skin long before he’d put his on someone else.
Plus, I’d been lonely and depressed. Too focused on keeping the peace when I should have been demanding more for myself. More love, more time, more attention. And a husband who was faithful.
The realization knocked the wind out of my sails. My shoulders curved inward as grief struck me anew.
Finally, I said, “Leave me alone, Danny. I came with you tonight because your mother is one of the best people I’ve ever known. Not because I want to be friends with you and hang out in the driveway and chat. You wanted this. Now let me move on.”
Danny swallowed hard and held his hands up in surrender. Hands that would always be a little grease-stained from his work. Hands that had held me and loved me. And then lost me, too.
My ex-husband retreated. After a few steps backward, he cast one last pained look in my direction and then climbed into his car and left.
I stumbled into the house as tears forced themselves down my cheeks. Collapsing on my bed, I grieved the unfairness of life, the family I’d lost. And then I mourned the end of my marriage, the way I should have months ago.