38. Caroline Two Signatures
caroline: two signatures
ALL AROUND ME, THE LOCALS and tourists walking down the boardwalk were joyous.
But, between James and me, things felt tense.
He told me he wanted to be together. And now I was sure what I wanted.
And that was not to be together. And I had to tell him.
But yesterday was Thanksgiving. And I didn’t want to ruin his day.
So I had put it off. I considered putting it off until after Emerson’s wedding.
But, then again, I always told Vivi that the truth was always the truth and not saying it out loud didn’t change things.
So maybe I should rip off the Band-Aid. As the boys headed back to the house on their scooters with Mom, James and I lagged behind.
He was smiling, watching as Vivi, holding Carter’s hand, helped her pick flowers from the town garden.
“It’s going to be weird without her. Isn’t it? ”
He squeezed my hand, and I let him because we were the only two people in all the world who could understand the very specific pain we would feel when our very specific child left our nest.
“The weirdest,” I said. “I can’t even imagine. It’s the end of an era.”
“Hey,” he said. “I know she wants to go to UGA, but I don’t want her going to college because of a boy. She’s going to have endless options, and she needs to do what’s best for her future.”
I nodded. “I know. I agree.” I paused. “Can you believe that this time next year all her college applications will be in?” I was trying to engage in this small talk, but the awkwardness hanging over us was just too much. “Hey, um, do you want to go to Peachtree Grocery with me?”
“Sure,” he said lightly.
We walked quietly down the sidewalk, turning left at the corner.
I sat down at an outside table, and he went in to talk to the hostess, an unspoken agreement, a routine, a rhythm of a married couple that, in short order, would be over.
But that was life, wasn’t it? Change was inevitable.
Change was okay. I would have to keep reminding myself of that over and over again.
He sat down, and a server swept over with an unsweet tea for me, sweet for James.
“Hi, Beaumonts,” Eric said.
He had this great, deep Southern accent that could have done movie voice-overs. But he was too young for that, too cool. Plus, could voice-over actors surf every morning?
“Hi, Eric.” I smiled at him.
You could say we were regulars. I didn’t miss that James ordered for me. “Caroline will have the Greek salad with light feta, no tomatoes, dressing on the side.”
I knew what he was doing. It was a subtle reminder. See how well I know you? See how much closeness you’ll be giving up?
Eric took our menus and said, “That will be right up.”
I leaned back into the square of light sneaking in from the gap in the striped awning we were sitting under, closing my eyes, basking in the feel of it on my face. The fall sun.
Without opening my eyes, I said, “I can’t, James. I’m sorry. Part of me really wants to, but I just can’t do it.”
I couldn’t look at him while I said it, couldn’t see his face. James was a man used to overcoming objections, making deals. “Car, come on,” he said. “You know that we are a family. We are meant to be a family. Think about our kids.”
I opened one eye at him and sat up, trying not to get mad. I knew he was on his back foot here, so I decided to let that go.
“Look, James, I love you. I love our family. And I’m not even blaming you.
I swear I’m not. Not anymore. It’s just that there’s something that is fundamentally broken between us, and I know you hate hearing this, but it took getting together with Chase to realize that we’ve really lost something and time hasn’t brought it back. ”
James shook his head. “So, is that it? Are you getting back with that asshole?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know he isn’t an asshole.”
He crossed his arms. I studied him, and he sighed. “Fine. He’s not an asshole. Is that what you want to hear? He’s America’s sweetheart, but a man, and it’s hard to see how my family has fallen in love with him.”
Ah. That made sense. I empathized with that completely.
He was losing something that, when he lost me, hadn’t completely fallen apart.
But now it was going to. “But just because they love him doesn’t mean they love you less.
It just means they have an extra person to love. That’s not so bad, is it?”
He sighed again. “I guess not.”
Then I shook my head. “And look, I’m not even with him. I have no idea if I will ever be with him again. It’s honestly not about him as a person. It’s just the concept of the relationship and how different it felt.”
James leaned toward me. “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
I smiled sadly. “Not under the current set of circumstances. There really is not. And I’m sorry about that.
I truly am. My life would be easier too if we were together.
But I’m afraid that we’re fooling ourselves to think this would ever work out?
” A question. It was a question. Because could I be with James again?
Could we repair our relationship, slip back into our warm and comfortable routines like a pair of beautiful, beloved silk pajamas?
We weren’t the worn-out fuzzy slippers. We were something lovelier than that.
And, even still, I wasn’t sure it was enough.
“I hear you. I do not agree. But I hear you.”
His eyes filled, and mine did too as Eric placed our salads on the table silently. I’d never known Eric to be silent, but he obviously sensed the weirdness.
I cut my salad, placing my largest beet on James’s plate while he passed over his pickles.
“We’re still us,” I said, realizing something so true.
“We don’t live under the same roof, but nothing is ever going to erase all the years we’ve had together, all the happy memories, the fact that you like beets and I like pickles. You know?”
He nodded and actually smiled. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And, I mean, it’s not like you can escape me. We have graduations and birthday parties and parents’ weekends for years to come.”
I laughed. “James, we have breakfast with our children together every morning. It’s not like we’re going to see each other three times a year.”
Fork in hand, he looked up at me. “We can still do that?”
I laughed again. “Of course we can. I love what we have now. We have this bizarre family that’s working. Let’s just keep it going.”
He nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s keep it going.”
Yes, sure, you could say that things ended between us when James cheated, when I left, at any number of forks in the road.
But here, now, despite what I had just said, I felt like I was closing a door that had remained at least cracked for years.
I truly loved him. I always would. And the routines of our family, I hoped, could continue—just without the underlying current of the future possibility of us.
James took a sip of tea and said, “Car, would it be okay if I skipped Emerson’s wedding? I feel awful missing it, but I’m just not sure I can…”
“She will totally be fine with that,” I said. And I knew she would. Emerson had been perhaps the most vocal about wanting me to make a clean break from James. Sign the papers.
We made small talk as we finished eating. I knew better than to have hard conversations over meals. But, on the other hand, it gave you something to do with your hands, you know?
James stood up, and I stood too. I hugged him, and he kissed the top of my head. “It’s not like this is goodbye,” I said. “We share two children. We live in the same building.”
He laughed and dabbed his eyes. “Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I really am. If I could take it all back, I would.”
I nodded. I couldn’t talk because I knew I would cry.
“Oh, um, I’ll sign the papers and leave them in your room,” he said. He shook his head. “Incredible. Twenty years together wiped away with two signatures.”
“Not wiped away,” I said. “Just… edited.” He looked genuinely distraught. “Hey, I’ll get the check.”
He nodded. “Okay. Then I’m going to get going.”
I couldn’t let him leave like this, so sad. “But wait. I can still use your plane, right?” I grinned at him.
He laughed and shook his head. “There is only one of you in all the world, Caroline Murphy.”
And so there was.
I was surprised how ripped open, how alone, I felt watching him leave.
And maybe that was it, too. I always knew he was there.
And now I had willingly changed all that.
I thought of myself as insanely independent, but I hadn’t been.
James had been the stand-in where my husband or boyfriend should have been.
And then there was Wes. And then Chase. And now, just Caroline.
I paid the check and walked to the smaller house next door, the rental part of Peachtree Grocery.
I leaned in the doorway, admiring the space and counting the place settings.
I walked in and shifted a few of the gold forks, zhuzhed a couple of the flowers—vibrant yellows, oranges, hot pinks, deep purples—showing off in their white hollowed-out gourds.
I peeked out the back door onto the patio.
The bubble lights were strung, the bar was being set, the band was beginning to organize on the stage.
Tonight, under the stars, we would toast my sister and her soon-to-be husband.
I smiled. I was so happy for her. It was so right.
But her happiness highlighted how all alone I was in the world.
I walked slowly back toward the house, letting myself feel—if only for a few minutes—the sadness that was logical at this moment.
Then I wiped my eyes and stood up straighter.
Because there was one thing I knew for sure: If nothing else, in the Murphy house, it was nearly impossible to be lonely.