Chapter 10 - Lockdown #2
Grace chopped vegetables. More than enough.
She had never minded chopping vegetables — you could get lost in the action, but when you finished, you had something — even if you didn’t have knife skills.
By the time she had arranged some on a plate with the hummus and stored the rest in the refrigerator, Robby was back.
He had the food including a grainy mustard, the yellow notebook, and his guitar.
Suddenly, Grace felt her muscles tightening.
This is not Robby moving in, right? That would be absurd.
The man is a rock star, even if she hadn’t known it.
He has his own cabin . . . but he’s already said he doesn’t want to wake up there.
He already has a career. He’s walked away from countless relationships for that career.
He knows how to do that. Maybe she’s being naive to think she can do this.
Maybe this’ll turn out just like before.
Can she survive that again? Maybe they should rethink.
The lockdown doesn’t start till Monday. They can still change their minds.
They dragged the Adirondacks up near the grill and Robby was putting the brats on. They each had a beer. “Robby, I’m . . . I’m feeling anxious about us trying to do this lockdown together.”
“I don’t think I’m going to like this conversation. I thought we were going to enjoy the weekend before sorting out the lockdown decision.” He was standing next to the grill.
“I’m worried about being able to stay focused on me, if you’re around with no let up.
To be honest,” Grace put her hand up and struggled to pull her hair back, “it’s occurred to me you have this leaving- relationships-thing down pat, but I don’t.
You have sixteen years of experience on me.
I’m not sure I could start over again this soon.
” She looked down, but kept talking, almost inaudibly.
“I should never have started this. I knew better.”
Robby put the buttered buns on the grill. “This conversation may go better if I’ve eaten. Where do you want to eat?”
Grace took a deep breath. “The picnic table.”
So, they dressed the brats in the kitchen, Grace putting everything on hers that Robby put on his, which, under the circumstances, added to her discomfort.
They took their brats, beers, and the hummus plate onto the screened porch.
Instead of sitting next to Grace like he had last week, Robby sat facing her.
They ate in silence. They cleaned up in silence.
Robby went outside to make sure the charcoal was going out, and didn’t come back in.
When she looked out the window next to her laptop, he was sitting back in an Adirondack.
She went onto the screened porch and sat in one of the rockers.
Eventually Robby came in and sat in the other one.
Looking straight ahead, he said, “I think — which does not mean you have to agree — we need to step back from each other and think about where we are and where we want to go, as hard as that is in this lockdown situation. This has been an unusual, intense couple of weeks. I don’t like the thought,” now he looked at her, “but it’s probably better if we sleep separately, and talk again tomorrow, or even Sunday. What do you think?”
She looked straight ahead and said, “I agree.” And then she stood up, walked back through the cabin, out the side door, and down to the point. When she came back in, Robby was gone. But the yellow notebook was still on the table.
******
Grace,
I can’t do this. I can’t be around you and give you the space you need.
I’ve never been with anyone before who was focused on her own life, who had needs of her own that I was aware of.
I know how that must sound. I don’t know how to do this and rather than screw it up totally, past fixing, I’m going to leave and try to figure it out.
I have no idea what’s next for me, and I realize it’s wrong for me to expect you to risk what you’re trying so hard to do for someone who’s unsure of what or who he wants in his own life.
Robby
Robby got up before dawn, left the note on the picnic table, and drove to his house.
He’d made the decision only hours after leaving Grace.
All of a sudden, he knew it was what he had to do, and he shut off thinking and feeling after that.
He packed the truck except for cold groceries, played guitar, and laid on the bed.
He was in his house just after 7am. He made coffee, put away the cold groceries, fed the woodstove, and sat on the red sofa drinking coffee, willing himself not to feel.
He was just going to get his guitar and go downstairs when Marie walked in.
“This can’t be good.”
“I can’t talk about it yet.”
“I understand. I’ll get cleaned up. You do what you need to. I’m on this weekend, so I was planning to be here. Leave me a note, if that doesn’t work for you. Whatever is fine.”
“Stay here. It won’t matter.”
“Okay.”
She went to the laundry room. They didn’t see each other again till next week when Marie came in one morning, and Robby was, again, on the red sofa drinking coffee. “You look like hell. When’s the last time you ate or bathed?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been playing a lot. I’ll eat something now and shower after you go to bed.”
“Still can’t talk about it?”
“Maybe later. I’m afraid of how bad I’ll feel if I start thinking about it.”
“I understand. Whenever.”
When Marie came out in Russell’s pajamas, Robby was sitting at the table with a plate of eggs over easy in front of him. He was drinking coffee, but the eggs appeared untouched. “You want these?”
“You eat one, then I’ll eat the rest.”
“Sounds like the deals parents make with kids to get them to eat their vegetables.” He looked at her with no expression.
Then he looked down at the plate, picked up the fork, ate one egg in two bites, and pushed the plate toward the other end of the table.
Marie got her coffee and the plate and went to her seat.
“I can’t believe I’m thirty-six and feel like this.
I thought this only happened to teenagers.
” Marie looked at him but continued to eat.
“She got cold feet, about us being together for the lockdown. I went back to my cabin. We said we’d talk some more, but I already knew the best thing was for me to leave.
And I knew I couldn’t do it if I had to look at her and say that, so I left her a note.
I’m not proud of it, but it’s all I could do.
I knew what the outcome should be, and that was the only way I could get to it.
” He picked up the mug, tilted it up, realized it was empty, and put it down.
“There was something Margie said that kept running through my head, about how I’d be okay no matter what happened, but this could be a turning point for Grace. ”
Marie shook her head. “Little Brother, you’re falling hard.
The pandemic has meant you’ve spent time with someone, probably more time than you’ve spent with any woman since you left school and went on the road.
You probably haven’t felt like this since you were a teenager.
But she’s young, and recently divorced—”
“Not that young and maybe not so recently.”
“Still, she may not be ready for what you are, and I don’t think you know what that is. I don’t want you hurt.”
“Too late.”
“Grace needs time and space to figure out what she wants. You’re a big presence, in every way.
But you should do that too. Maybe your goals are changing.
Maybe what you wanted at twenty, is not what you want at thirty-six.
You need to figure that out, for you and for Grace.
Maybe this is a good time to do that. Margie’s right — this is a different situation for each of you. ”
“I think I know my goals, but I’ll think about it. But what if our decisions aren’t compatible?”
“Then you’ll ‘pick up the pieces and go on.’ Probably make a ton of money off songs about this.”
“What about Grace?”
“You’ll get over Grace.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean what will happen to her?”
“Oh. I don’t know.”