The Cooper River Bridge over Charleston Harbor, South Carolina.

 

The last time Kim and I sat down to share a meal was in the early autumn of the year before we got our divorce. The weather was typical for the Charleston area, sunny and clear with a pleasant breeze coming in off the harbor. I walked down Market Street and made a right turn onto Church and again began to wonder why I had come. Kim had invited me to the restaurant saying that she just wanted to have lunch and talk, but I really didn’t feel like talking to her about anything. We’d already gone too far for reconciliation now and I sensed a trap of some kind. When I balked at her invitation she made it sound like she wanted to go over the separation details so I agreed to come.

Being chronically tight on money, I suggested we go to some coffee house or fast food place, but she said she had been given a nice gift certificate to Antonio’s downtown and wanted to go there. She always wanted to appear like we had money so I figured that’s why she wanted Antonio’s. Her champagne taste on a beer budget had been a constant source of our stress over the years, but as this might be our last meal together I figured, what the hell?

I crossed the street and headed for the Italian flag that hung over the sidewalk at the far intersection. Antonio’s advertised itself to the tourists as the “coolest little bistro in town,” but being a local I knew better. It was one of those places where the menu out front listed everything but the prices. They often had entertainment so I knew it was out of my budget except for very special occasions. I hoped it was a generous gift certificate.

I was still mulling over the reason for the lunch date as I entered and was shown to her table. The remainder of the minor details of our separation could’ve been discussed over the phone, but once I saw her I knew. Her dress, her smile, and somehow even the singer and pianist on the small platform told me what it was all about.

This week was our eleventh wedding anniversary.

Oh, for Pete’s sake.

I should’ve known it was a set up of some kind. I almost turned around and left right then, but I meekly followed the hostess to our table. I guess I just didn’t want to make a scene and embarrass her in front of the other diners. In retrospect it would have been better had I gone.

“Hi, David,” she said with a smile, as if we were old friends.

“Kim.”

I sat down and took stock of the situational irony. Kim was wearing an elegant, low-cut red dress, almost too much for lunch, and her freshly washed black hair cascaded around her right shoulder. I on the other hand wore a collared sport shirt and my nicest blue jeans. I thought this was lunchtime.

The waiter appeared and asked, “Can I get you something to drink, sir?”

“Just water, please.”

“I thought you would’ve said a Birra Moretti,” Kim said. She was drinking a chilled white wine.

“It’s only two,” I said. “Besides, I’ve got to pick up the kids at Lynn’s by four.”

“Water it is, sir,” the waiter said and left.

I opened the menu.

“I’d like you to order anything you want, David. My treat.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. It’s a special day after all.”

I made no reply.

“You’ve never forgotten our anniversary before,” Kim said.

“I haven’t forgotten it now. It just seems a little awkward to celebrate given the circumstances.”

Kim let the remark pass. We both looked over the menu and when the waiter returned he took our order. I ordered an Italian sausage sandwich and Kim ordered a Fettuccine Alfredo topped with shrimp. The waiter thanked us and then took up our menus and left. I took a sip of the water and glanced over at the singer, a nice looking woman who sung eighties and nineties love songs in front of a mike. I figured the man at the piano was her husband.

“Well,” Kim said, “I got all of the info complete for the graduation. It’s very exciting.”

“I’m sure it is. A bachelor’s degree is something worth celebrating.”

I only meant to say it in passing, but then realized that she might think I meant that it was better to celebrate a graduation than our anniversary. You see, despite our estranged marriage, we had agreed that we would stay together until she graduated from college. Maybe she would think I meant I would rather celebrate her finally leaving me. I tried to think of some recovery, but she spoke before I could say anything.

“The yacht brokerage wants to take me on full time hours as soon as I graduate,” she continued. “Despite the start of the off season, they think I can make some real money on just a few sales.”

“That’s good.”

“Maybe bringing in some real money would take some of the strain off of us.”

“Kim, I think we’d better keep to our plans.”

“But this could be like a whole new era for us.”

“I don’t think it would be,” I said, taking another sip of water.

“Why are you still so bitter? Can’t you just let the past go?”

“The separation was your idea. You even told my family before you broke it to me.”

“But does that mean it’s written in stone?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m still not happy.”

“Why?”

“Kim, I don’t want to get into this right now.”

“Why not? If we’re going through with it I’d like to know what’s wrong.”

I sighed and took another sip of water.

“Can’t you just sum it up?” she asked.

“I guess I just need more than you can give.”

“Really? Well, you could’ve done a lot better, too.”

“Whatever.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I really don’t want to get into it.”

“You never want to get into it.”

“Well maybe it’s because you never really hear what I have to say.”

“I listen to you.”

“No, you never really listen. I don’t think you know what it is to really listen.”

“How so?”

I took a deep breath. Dammit all. “To listen is to try to understand the other person. It doesn’t mean getting ready for the next rebuttal while the other person is talking. That’s not listening, that’s argument.”

She started to reply but was interrupted by the waiter bringing a basket of bread. She took a sip of her wine as she gathered her thoughts and when the waiter left she sat silently for a few moments. Then, as if she’d actually considered what I had just said, she sat forward and said soberly, “I’m ready to listen now.”

“Sure.”

“No really. Go ahead.”

“Okay.” I took up a piece of bread and started eating it.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well, what?”

“I’m waiting. I’m ready to listen.”

“I don’t have anything to say. If you want to know something, ask.”

Kim took another sip of her wine and savored it thoughtfully. “Okay. You say you’re not happy, and need more than I can give. I want to understand that. Maybe you could give me an idea of what you think a relationship should be like.”

Oh, for Pete’s sake. What could this matter now, I thought. I took another bite of bread, hoping she would just move on. But, no, not Kim. If she felt she wanted an answer she would hold out for it, whether she could handle it or not. I looked over the table at her. Her eyes were expectant, but pleasant. What bone could I throw her?

“Please, David.”

I took a deep breath. “To me, a relationship between two married people should be a safe place in a treacherous world. It should be a place where each one comforts and nurtures the other. It should be a place to express fears and dreams and frustrations and affections to one another. It should be a place where each one knows that they are number one in the heart of the other, where they are built up and encouraged. It should be a place where each is committed to the other’s well being. It’s a place where each one appreciates the loving gestures from the other. It’s not a place to be embarrassed about what one’s spouse does for a living. It’s not a place where financial security is assured so that affections may be placed elsewhere.”

Maybe I went too far with that last one. Her last adultery had never been proven, but very nearly so. For a moment I thought she might end the lunch right there, but she only nodded thoughtfully. I guess she was really trying to listen, and process.

“It sounds like what you’re describing is a fantasy,” she said.

“I don’t think so. To me it’s a faith, and I’ll hold onto it like a faith.”

“You don’t think we had any of that in our marriage?”

“Some of it, sometimes, but not really like one might expect.”

“Do you think I’m embarrassed that you’re a mechanic in a paper mill?” she asked.

“I did whenever we were around your college friends, or your family.”

“I can’t help what my parents think,” she said.

That’s not what I said, I thought. It’s how you acted. It’s what you said around them. But I’m not getting into that now. “All right.”

Kim sat back and took another sip of her wine. I guessed that she didn’t want to get into that one either. She leaned forward again, taking a new tack.

“Can you give me an example of a loving gesture you made that I didn’t appreciate?” she asked. “I don’t remember any in recent years.”

“Hmm,” I said as I thought. “Do you remember that time I rewrote the words to the Journey song “Faithfully”? I could barely sing it to you I was so choked up. I loved you so much.”

“I don’t remem…Yes. I think I do. That was a long time ago. I thought it was nice, and I believe I told you so at the time.”

“Yes, you said you thought it was nice, but it didn’t move you. It didn’t touch you. I was pouring out my heart in love to you, but you said it was nice and immediately told me about a sale at the mall. There’s something missing there, something critical.”

“Maybe your expectations are too high,” she said. “Maybe no one could live up to your idea of a perfect marriage.”

“I don’t think they’d be too high for people committed to one another,” I said.

“Committed?” Kim said. “When in the last two years have you shown any commitment to me?

“See?” I said. “That’s part of the problem. I’ve been unhappy for a long time. I tried to tell you, tried to work with you, but you wouldn’t listen. I believe that you know what you needed to do, but it was just too much effort for you. I was never worth your effort. Two years ago I decided that I wasn’t going to give in this marriage anymore. I was tired of trying. That’s when you decided that there was a problem in the marriage. You don’t see what you did to contribute to that breakdown. For you, the problems in our marriage began on the day when you stopped getting what you wanted out of me.”              “When did you try to tell me you were unhappy?” she asked. “All you ever do is clam up.”

“I clam up when I see there’s no point. And I did try to tell you. Your answer was for me to go see a shrink. Like, if I’m unhappy with you, I must be manic-depressive or something. Well, that shrink gave me a clean bill of health.”

“He didn’t fix anything,” she said. “You probably only told him a distorted view of what was going on.”

“Well, if you’d have come, like I asked you, you could’ve given him your side. I think what you really wanted was for him to give me some pills and make everything all right.”

She sat back in her chair and became quiet for a few moments, looking away across the restaurant. Then she said, “Maybe I should have come.”

“Forget about it, Kim. It’s all water under the bridge, now.”

“I must’ve been a horrible wife to you,” Kim said. “I wonder that you ever could have loved me.”

“I did love you,” I said. “I really did. That’s why the neglect hurt so much.”

“But you don’t believe that I ever really loved you, do you?”

I took a sip of water. I began to think I had said way too much, but maybe these are the kinds of things that needed to be said. Long ago they might’ve given us some ground to work on, but now they can only serve to clarify why we’re splitting up. Talking about it made me realize that I didn’t hate Kim. I was just tired of being lonely. Feeling alone in a marriage is the most desolate kind of loneliness. But where does the conversation go from here?

“I believe that you loved me at one time,” I said, “but I think that the maintenance, the upkeep of the marriage got too bothersome for you, or you were bored with it. A marriage has got to have a lot of effort to make it work.” A thought came to me and I spoke before thinking. “Yeah, at one time I thought you loved me. I remember…”

“What?” she asked.

“I remember one time when you cried right after we made love. We were probably twenty then. I asked you what was wrong and you said that you loved me so much you couldn’t…”

I stopped short. I hadn’t noticed it before, but while we were talking the singer had made her way over to our table. She looked right at me and began singing Gloria Estefan’s song, “Anything for You.” It had always been one of Kim’s favorite songs and as the singer performed it I felt like it was supposed to be as if Kim were singing it to me.

Oh, dammit all. Kim must have arranged it earlier and the singer hadn’t noticed that things were not going well at the table. For Pete’s sake. What did she expect, that we would get reacquainted and rekindle our romance over a nice lunch in a fancy restaurant? After everything that had happened? The idea was absurd. But that was just like her. She never really had a grasp of how other people were feeling, or how bad she had hurt anyone. She would say something hurtful or condescending or offensive to someone, and then later wonder why that person wasn’t speaking to her. It was like she lived in her own world. She could never keep friends for very long.

I could feel the eyes of everyone in the restaurant on me and I guess I was expected to be touched. Dammit. Two years ago it would’ve been touching, but now it was just plain awkward. I knew I had to play it off so I divided my attention between Kim and the singer, trying to look happy. I would’ve reached over to take one of Kim’s hands, but she kept them on her lap. God, it was a long song.

The singer finished the song and I nodded and whispered my thanks. The eyes of the diners were still on us as the singer walked back to the platform and Kim and I sat quietly not looking at each other. They finally started another song and everyone seemed to drift back to their conversations.

Kim looked very sad now and I guess the song had made her think. It had been a nice touch, though ill timed. With her eyes staring down at her glass she said, “You know, we can get those days back. As long as we can remember them, we can get them back.”

“No, Kim,” I said. “I don’t think we can. I don’t really want to try anymore, and I don’t think you would want to try for very long either. It takes more than just piecemeal efforts to smooth things over.”

“I want to try. Why do you think I asked you here today? I can do what it takes to make the marriage work. I know I can.”

“No, you can’t. I don’t think you have it in you. I think that you’re getting scared now that the end is near. I think you realize that you made your bed and now you must lie in it and it scares you. This whole meeting is a testament to that. If you really cared for me, for my happiness, for our marriage, then why would you wait until the last minute to patch things up? Why not after you made the big announcement to my family behind my back? Why not a year ago, or six months ago? Why let me go on being miserable for another year, then only now try to make amends?”

“I don’t know,” she said with tears in her eyes. “You always act so unapproachable.”

“I’m approachable,” I said, “as long as you’re willing to be honest with me without one-upmanship. I always got the feeling that winning the argument was more important to you than how I felt. And if you’re honest with yourself, I think you’d agree. But I don’t think you’re even honest with yourself.”

Kim made a gesture like throwing her hands up, then used her napkin to wipe her eyes. She shook her head and said, “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Cry. I wasn’t going to let you upset me. I said I wasn’t going to cry.”

“Crying’s not a bad thing. I think it actually helps a person cope with a loss. I think that’s why grieving is so important. It helps to add a sense of closure to a bad situation.” I toyed with my water glass as I spoke. “No, crying’s not bad. I think that’s why we’re at such different stages of this split up. I’ve already done my crying and you’ve put yours off until now.”

“I don’t remember you crying for us.”

“Sure, I did. Remember six months into our marriage when you admitted that you’d slept with my friend? I cried then.”

“That was a long time ago. I can’t believe you’d bring it up now.”

“Well, we’re talking about crying,” I said. “And I forgave you, but then remember the time I cried on the way to the train station after we had that big fight because I’d tried to tell you what I thought was wrong in our marriage? I realized we weren’t going to make it as a couple.”

“That was a long time ago. Why did you change your mind?”

“Working out of town those next few weeks gave me a chance to cool off and resolve to try again. I took my vows seriously.”

“You cry a lot,” Kim said, with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Not really. Three or four times in ten years isn’t a lot. But then again, maybe it is. Maybe people shouldn’t cry that much over someone they love.”

Kim shook her head and buried her face in her napkin. The real tears were coming now and I genuinely felt sorry for her. She was finally getting it. She was finally beginning to understand that I was through with her, and that I had been through with her for some time. How does a person not notice that someone is through with them?

There was little left to say, and there was no reason to stay any longer. I called the waiter and asked him to put our meals in boxes to go.

When he left I said, “Once you’ve had your cry you’ll better be able to plan your next step. Hell, you’ll probably find someone else soon enough. But, even if you don’t, I’m sure you’ll be happier without me around to complain about you staying out with your friends night after night, or taking money out of the checking account without telling me, or putting my things away into places where I can’t find them, or running up the credit cards, or lack of sex, or acting like a jerk with my family. You might really find that you enjoy the peace.”

I stood up. I hated to leave her sitting alone crying like that, but what was I supposed to do? I had bared my soul and now I was the last person who could console her. It made no sense to stay any longer.

“Listen, thanks for inviting me to lunch. I can’t eat now and I’m sure you can’t either. I’m going to run. I’ll pick up the tab. There was no gift certificate, was there?”

Kim shook her head.

“Did you already take care of the singer?”

Kim raised her face from her napkin but looked away from me. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head.

“I’ll get it,” I said. It would be a strain on my budget, but it was the only decent thing to do. “Good bye, Kim. Let me know how you’re doing later on.”

Kim made no response.

I walked over to the waiter’s station and settled up the check. I asked him to bring Kim’s box to her table and to give my tip to the singer. What a mess. I took one more glance toward Kim and my heart hurt for her. Dammit all. I spent the last year and a half feeling lonely, exasperated and angry with her. Now I could only feel sorry for her.

I took my lunch box and walked directly out of the restaurant. I should have been happy to have finally spoken my mind to her. I should have felt happy to soon be free of her, but it promised to be a nasty divorce now and even the pleasant weather couldn’t brighten my mood.

The End

James Crawford

 

This is the “what happened that in day in the restaurant” referred to by the main characters in my novel A Noble Paradise. It took place earlier when their marriage was falling apart and was the last chance at reconciliation. It also provided the seeds of bitterness which would come to full bloom in the setting of the novel. You can get the whole story by reading the novel at the link below. Enjoy!

Amazon –

http://www.amazon.com/Noble-Paradise-James-Crawford-ebook/dp/B00QG6LZ10/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Novels by James Crawford –

Mariner Valley – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0141N9UXO

Seed of Aldebaran – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08SHXTRMP

AlCent Sagas Book One: Formation – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQ5C3TQT

AlCent Sagas Book Two: Revelation – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D2FRH6Q8

AlCent Sagas Book Three: Investigation – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D5SBFYMW

AlCent Sagas Book Four: Desperation – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D8767LHL

AlCent Sagas Book Five: Confrontation – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D9PPTX6G

A Noble Paradise – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QG6LZ10

Cover artist Wojtek Kapusta – https://www.artstation.com/kapucha76

Audible narrator Lyle Blaker – https://www.acx.com/narrator?p=AXZPXFQRN07M3