Chapter Thirty-Four #2
He wasn’t going to bother with a subway.
He just wanted to get out of there, away from his ex-wife and all the horrible memories she stirred up for him when they were together.
He moved to hail a cab, but given the time of night and the poor weather, there wasn’t one readily available.
He dug his phone out of his pocket, about to call an Uber, when Evelyn said, “Well, you can’t leave now. We need to come up with a plan.”
“Come up with it on your own.”
“David—”
“I’m tired, Evelyn. I want to go home.”
He found the closest car waiting four minutes away. It felt like four minutes too many.
“Oh.” Evelyn crossed her arms against her chest. “I see. Same ole David. Run away at the first sign of trouble. I guess I should have known that of all the people in the world, you would be the first to leave when I needed you.”
Her words caused a levee to break inside him. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Believe what?” she snarked, annoyed.
He met her gaze directly. “That I left you.”
A beat passed between them. Evelyn crossed her arms against her chest, stepping into him. “Funny,” she sneered, the tips of their noses nearly touching. “Last I checked, I was the one served divorce papers.”
He scoffed. “Right.”
“You know what?” she said, throwing her hands up into the air.
“You’re right. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help, either.
God knows you’ve disappointed me enough times in life.
What kind of fool would I be to trust you again?
No, I’ll figure this out for myself. I’ll tackle this last heartbreak on my own and produce the best live-action musical CBS7-T studios has ever seen.
Because that’s who I am. I’m not afraid to work hard—”
“Jesus Christ!” he shouted back at her. “Can you stop already? Just stop.”
“Stop what?” she shouted right back at him. “Telling you the truth?”
“You’re distorting facts.”
He turned to leave, heading down the avenue a few steps in order to get away from her.
Evelyn followed, her own rage growing. “Facts?” she said.
“You want to talk about facts? Okay. Here you go. I’m sorry that you’re not driven, David.
I’m sorry that you hated your life with me in Manhattan.
I’m sorry that working as a doctor for CBS7-T studios, with its great money and its amazing benefits, made you so damn unhappy. ”
“You really haven’t changed, at all.”
“Oh, I’m not done,” she said, still going. “Because I’m sorry for you, David.”
“Sorry?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sorry that you’ve been so privileged in life, with your nice family and your built-in sense of emotional security.
That you never had to hustle or work hard a day in your life.
I’m sorry that you couldn’t be a better husband.
I’m sorry that you left me, you abandoned me—without explanation—when we lost our baby.
That you left me . . . to put away her crib, piece by piece, all by myself.
Because I know you, too, David, and you haven’t changed, either.
Your whole damn life . . . last one in, first one out. ”
The pain he had been holding back began to rise to the surface. “Screw you.”
“Screw me?” She chased after him. “Is that any way to talk to your wife?”
“Ex-wife,” he reminded her.
“Oh, the pain.” She clutched at her chest, fake and dramatic.
“Well, you should know, I loved being alone these last two years. I’ve been able to focus on my career, without constantly having this human being needing and wanting more from me.
In fact, you walking out on me was the best gift I’ve ever gotten on Hanukkah.
Enjoy your goddamn antiquing, you road-tripping schmuck! ”
It was enough. His neck stiffened. His jaw muscle twitched once, as his own torrent of emotions flooded through him. He twisted back toward her and lobbied his own attack. “You never asked me if I was okay.”
“What?” She stepped back.
“She was my child, too,” he said, finally speaking his truth.
“It was my decision, too. And I know—I know you loved her, Evelyn. I know it broke your heart in the aftermath of those days, and weeks, so you did what you always did when times got tough . . . you worked. You worked, and worked, and worked, and you never came home to me. But I was dying. I was dying, okay? And I would have died if I’d stayed in that house, in that apartment, one day longer. ”
She stuttered, teetering back in surprise. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“You do understand,” he said, tears coming to his eyes. “Our whole marriage, every time there was a problem, every time there was a conflict, something we should have talked about, something we should have worked through . . . you went to work.”
“And you resented me for that.”
“I wanted you to find balance,” he shouted right back at her.
“Hell! How many times did I ask you to go to therapy with me? Couples’ counseling?
A meditation retreat? Freaking anything!
But instead, you went to work. Work, work, work .
. . hiding away in your production tablet, staying late every night to put out yet another fire .
. . and for what? I needed you, Evelyn. Our child was gone and I was alone.
I was alone in that apartment, waiting for you, waiting to grieve with you—the only woman on the planet who would understand what that loss meant—and you just stopped coming home. ”
Evelyn was speechless. Her lower lip lay open, quivering slightly.
But otherwise, she said nothing. At least this time, he wasn’t surprised by her silence.
When the Uber David had called pulled up beside him, he returned the favor, doing what Evelyn expected of him.
He left. He left her for his own mental health.
He left her, despite the fact he still loved her .
. . because he couldn’t survive living with a ghost.