Chapter 20
Ryan
The weekend was rough.
I kept seeing the pain on Melanie’s face. Her tears. Her anger.
I was terrified that she would decide it was just too much to try to forgive, and I wasn’t sure I could blame her.
I was worried about her but took solace in the fact that our sons had come to spend the weekend with her. I kept my mind and body occupied by going to the gym and was greeted warmly by the owner, who told me he was glad to have me back.
I was happy to be back, and as I finished a punishing workout without having to watch some muscle-headed dude bro admiring himself in the mirror, I had trouble remembering why I’d ever left in the first place.
I didn’t have to wait for some annoying fitness influencer to stop filming themselves for their social media platforms long enough to get out of the way, and there was no God-awful wheatgrass juice at the juice bar.
In fact, there was no juice bar, only a filtered water cooler strategically placed in each corner of the space. It was a welcome change.
I was pleasantly surprised when the boys called to see if I wanted to grab some dinner Sunday evening, and I knew that I probably had Melanie to thank for it.
The conversation with them was stilted at first, especially when I asked how their mom was doing, but the awkwardness faded a little by the time the food arrived.
It helped that I told them I was done with Mitch.
It helped even more when Tanner noticed the bruising and the cut on my knuckles and I admitted that I’d punched him Tuesday night.
Garrett had laughed, and Tanner had given me a high-five.
I was in a slightly better frame of mind when I got home, and that improved even more when Melanie texted to say that she would be joining me at Kim’s office. I wasn’t looking forward to talking about my dad or Grady. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d feel as if I were being flayed alive.
Melanie thought it would help though, and I suspected she was right. I probably should have done it two years ago when she’d first suggested it. Maybe then I wouldn’t have fucked up my marriage.
I was able to keep a reasonably clear focus on my work for most of the day, including looking over some proposed changes one of our biggest clients wanted to make to the huge, lakeside home we were contracted to build for him, starting in March.
He had sent a series of emails over the weekend, each one detailing his wife’s latest demands, which included shifting the orientation of the house as it sits on the lot so that the kitchen faced east, bumping out two exterior walls to make the primary suite larger, and removing several interior walls which just happened to be load-bearing.
My computer pinged with an incoming email, and I opened it to find yet another missive from Julian Epperson.
“My wife would like an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. She saw it in a dream last night after being inspired by an episode of The Real Lives of Famous Wives. We need to add a seventh bedroom with attached bath as well, preferably on the main level.”
My mouth dropped open, then closed abruptly as I bit back a curse and called Dave into my office to tell him.
“For fuck’s sake,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face in frustration.
I couldn’t blame him. The architect had designed the house for them over a year ago, and they’d made a dozen major changes since then, most of them based on TV shows, although up until now, they’d at least been design shows rather than a reality show featuring spoiled, rich women who drank way too much booze and knocked tables over on a regular basis.
The final prints had been drafted a month ago, and now Stella Epperson wanted to change the whole damned house again.
“There’s no way we’re breaking ground on this house in March. They’ll be lucky if the architect gets the new plans drawn up by then, and that’s if we can get the load distribution to work.”
We spent a few minutes brainstorming ideas, but it still seemed like an insurmountable task.
“Increasing the depth and width of the footings would help with the foundation capacity, but even if we reinforce the walls here, and here,” I said as I pointed to the blueprints, “I doubt it will be enough to resist the lateral load, plus the plumbing installation will likely compromise the load path in that area anyway. I’ll run the calculations to have all the facts to present to them, but I’m telling you right now, I can’t see how those numbers are going to work. ”
Dave shook his head, looking frustrated. “I’m beginning to wish that they had decided to go with Callahan Builders after all. I’m not sure who’s the bigger pain in the ass, her or him.”
My lips twisted in a grimace. “Neither of them are a prize, but my vote goes to her. From what I can tell, she’s the driving force and what Stella Epperson wants, Julian Epperson gives her.”
I was still irritated by that woman and her ridiculous whims when I arrived at Kim’s office building.
I tried to shake off my bad mood, and it helped when I saw my wife walking through the door, brushing a few stray snowflakes out of her dark hair.
It had started snowing on my drive over, although we weren’t supposed to get much accumulation.
She greeted me with a small smile, and I thanked her for coming.
We were told that Kim was ready for us, so we headed back to her office and took the same seats on the couch as before.
Kim pushed the button on the wall to close the door behind us, then wheeled herself into position across from us. She started by asking how we were doing after such an emotional day on Friday.
“I’m better, after having the weekend to think. Our sons came to visit, which was nice. I also had a long talk with my friend, Jen, and that helped me work through some things.”
I told her that the boys had met me for dinner. “I’m sure I have Melanie to thank for that,” I said, and she ducked her head slightly. “It was awkward at first, but we talked, and I think I made at least a little progress with them.”
“I’m glad to hear that you both had productive weekends, so let’s see if we can keep that going.
Now, the first thing I want you to understand is that grief encompasses a wide range of emotions.
It often manifests in anger, confusion, guilt, depression, and so many other things in addition to the sadness you feel from losing someone.
My job with this type of therapy is to help you navigate that emotional minefield.
We will sort through and identify your emotions so that we can find positive ways to process them, and then true healing can begin.
Our discussions may be difficult, or even painful as we revisit those times in your life, but please know that this is a safe space to let go of those emotions. ”
Kim’s tone was filled with gentle compassion as she asked, “Can you tell me about the losses you’ve had? I understand that both your father and your best friend died within a short time period two years ago?”
“Yes,” I answered, trying to quell my sudden nervousness. “My dad had a heart attack two years and three months ago, and he didn’t make it. Then two months after that, Grady was in a five car pile-up on the interstate. He was killed on impact.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Ryan. I can’t even imagine how difficult that was for you – and for Melanie and your sons. Had you and Grady been friends for a long time?”
“Since we were twelve. We met in the seventh grade,” I answered gruffly.
“You stayed close all those years?”
I nodded, and a smile twisted my lips. “Yes. We shared an apartment in college and for a year or so after that. He helped me with Garrett after I divorced my first wife. He was my best man when Melanie and I got married, and was an honorary uncle to both of our sons,” I stopped and tried to swallow around the tightness in my throat, and Melanie stepped in.
“Grady was over at our house at least once a week for dinner, or to help Ryan with something around the house, or just to play catch in the backyard with the boys. We all loved him,” she finished softly.
“And was Mitch part of this group?”
My jaw tightened at the mention of that asshole. “Yes. Grady and I met him in high school. He shared the apartment with us in college, then moved away after graduation. He came back several times a year to visit, and then he moved back for good about six months after Grady’s accident.”
Kim nodded, then asked about my dad.
Damn, this was even harder than I realized. I looked at Melanie, and she reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. I clung to her hand like a lifeline for a second, then reluctantly let go. It was the first time she’d voluntarily touched me in days.
“My dad was the best. My mom had some serious health issues and then died when I was eighteen. Dad really had to step up for me and my younger brother. We were all a mess, but Dad pulled us through, and he was there for me again when I found out Garrett was on the way, and again when Holly and I split up and I became a single father. He adored Melanie and doted on Tanner the same way he did Garrett.”
“So, your mother has passed as well? I believe Melanie mentioned that Garrett’s biological mother died when he was quite young, too?
“Yes,” I said huskily. “I divorced Holly shortly after Garrett’s first birthday.
We got married because she was pregnant, and it was a mistake from the beginning.
I was awarded sole custody during the divorce because Holly was struggling with being a mother.
She just never really connected with our son and didn’t like being tied down, as she put it.
She didn’t see Garrett often after that and was hit by a car while crossing a busy street downtown, just before Garrett turned three. ”
“That had to be tough, for both you and your son,” Kim said.