Saving Alice (21 page)
A
week later on Saturday night Alycia called and left a message on my voice mail.
“We’re back from Brookings! Well … I can’t believe we drove so far just to see Madison. Her nose is sticking straight up. Her attitude is like a wind tunnel—know what I mean? Anyway, call me, okay?”
She paused. “Dad? Now’s a good time. Mom seems upset.”
After I finished listening to the message, I stared at the phone. I reached for it again, then stopped.
Most likely, Donna was just fine, and Alycia was attempting a last-ditch effort to stop the divorce. I didn’t blame her.
But I went for it. I dialed Donna’s number, and got Alycia. “Honey …”
“Wanna talk to Mom?”
A little hesitation was all she needed. I heard her cover the receiver and call, “Mo-o-o-om!”
What was I doing? Obviously, Donna was determined to go through with this.
When she answered, I mumbled a few things until Donna interrupted me. “Are you okay?”
I cleared my throat. “Just … uh … wanted to know how you think Alycia’s doing.”
“Oh … well … great, I think.”
We continued along that line for a moment, meandering into other related topics. I asked her if she’d reconsidered the child sup- port issue, but she hadn’t. I asked about her church, and she seemed confused, but answered anyway. Finally, it was time to either hit the ball or quit the game. “Are you sure you want this? I mean … the divorce. Shouldn’t we … uh … take more time? Not rush into it?”
She paused. “Haven’t we had enough time, Stephen?”
Of course. We’d had plenty of time. And we’d wasted it—wasn’t that what she’d said the day she’d left?
“Stephen … are you there?”
“I only want the best for you, Donna.”
Silence again. It lasted so long I wondered if we’d lost our connection.
She sniffed softly. “I need to go.”
Without protesting, I let her hang up.
That night I had the dream again in the same disjointed fragments. The smell of pizza and vanilla filled my senses. The oldies played in the background. I waited for her, my heart beating with dread, but she never arrived. Suddenly I spotted her across the room, her shimmering brunette hair unmistakable. She blew me a kiss and opened the door. I tore out of the booth, but she was already gone. Screaming her name, I burst through the door and glimpsed her just as she stepped into the street. I practically leapt across the sidewalk just as the sound of screeching filled my ears, and with my fingers outstretched, brushed her silky blouse … and then she was gone.
I awakened, gasping for breath, soaked in sweat. I looked for Donna beside me, but she was gone too. I thought of the impending divorce, the recurring dream, and realized Donna was right. How many more nights would I torture her by awakening from the same dream?
Around six o’clock on Monday, the morning of the court day, I drove to Sixth Avenue for a quick cup of coffee. Since I hadn’t planned to go to work until after the divorce was final, I had a few hours to kill.
I was just leaving the drive-through when my cell phone rang.
“Stephen?” It was Donna, and her voice sounded tentative. “Where are you? I mean … what are you doing?”
When I told her, she chuckled nervously. “McDonald’s? For coffee? Why am I not surprised?”
The tone in her voice heartened me, and we made small talk as if we were about to go out for dinner, not to divorce court. But the more we talked, the more labored her words became.
Suddenly, she took a deep breath and said quietly, “I’ve been thinking about what you said and … I think you’re right. I mean… I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have left you.”
Her statement hit me like a thunderclap in the middle of a sunshiny day. I didn’t know what to say. Donna wasn’t the type to vacillate, and it never occurred to me that she would simply change her mind. I was reminded of Alycia’s phone message. Perhaps, Donna had been contemplating this for a while.
When I didn’t reply, she continued. “Are you seeing someone, Stephen? I mean … are you…” Her voice lowered, “… well, interested in someone else?”
I was surprised by the frankness of her question. “No.”
“Me neither,” she said, as if we’d just compared notes and found a brilliant commonality. “So, really … I had no reason, no basis. I was selfish, Stephen. Maybe I just needed some time to sort things out. I’m sorry to wait until the last minute…”
I still didn’t know how to respond. For the second time since she’d left—hanging up on me when we were on the phone being the first—she’d totally surprised me.
“Stephen? Are you there?”
I assured her I was still on the line.
“I’m thinking of withdrawing the petition,” she said. “Besides, we’ve been getting along, haven’t we? We haven’t fought in months. It’s like the old days, you know, like when we first married? Do you remember?”
They seemed hazy to me, but I answered, “Yes.”
“So … what do you think?”
This is where I was supposed to say,
I’m so glad. Please come home!
Hadn’t I just called her with the same idea? Instead I heard myself saying, “I’m just … surprised.”
“I know. It is rather sudden. I’m sorry. But I have been thinking about it for a while.”
I hesitated. Larry would have slapped me.
Snap out of it! She wants to come home! Roll out the red carpet, Stevie boy!
“I’ve missed you, Stephen. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Holding the phone to my ear, I closed my eyes. “Donna…”
“Yes, Stephen?”
“Maybe you just have cold feet,” I said, wincing at my own words.
“Cold feet?”
“Are you sure—”
“But you asked for more time, didn’t you? I mean … you called me. What has changed?”
“I didn’t want to push you—”
“Can we talk in person, Stephen? I hate to do this on the phone.”
I agreed.
When I arrived at the apartment building, Donna was standing by the curb, her hands sheltered within her winter coat, her breath creating cold puffs of moisture. When she saw me, she came to the car immediately and quickly got in. Closing the door, she exhaled and shivered, rubbing her hands together. Immediately I caught the odor of
Charlie,
her college perfume. I’d always loved the scent, and she’d always known it. She smiled at me, but her eyes were pained. “Where can we go?”
The implication was obvious. We lived in a small town. Anyone might see us.
“Let’s just drive,” I said, and she nodded agreeably—eagerly, in fact.
I looked at my watch. We had two hours before we had to appear in court. We drove into the country for several miles without returning to our previous conversation. Instead, we made inane small talk about the weather, about Sally, about her work hours.
Off to the right, I saw a herd of deer, and it reminded me of a family vacation a few years back and a similar sight. I’d pointed and exclaimed, “Look, a gaggle of deer.”
Alycia had spurt Coke over the front seat. “No,” she exclaimed. “It’s a flock.”
Donna had chimed in with, “It’s a school of deer!”
I now reminded Donna of the memory, and she chuckled. It seemed to break the ice. “I can’t believe what you’ve done with Alycia, Stephen. She’s so different.” She turned in her seat, reached out and touched my shoulder, and without any kind of preparatory remarks, whispered, “Can you forgive me, Stephen?”
I spotted an empty office building, pointed to it. It served the purpose of buying time. She nodded, “Good idea. We can talk more easily there.”
I turned left into the deserted parking lot. When I brought the car to a stop, we were surrounded by white fields with little straws of wheat sticking out. The landscape was empty and desolate. The car rocked as the wind blew little grains of snow against the glass.
I turned to her, and she looked at me earnestly, her eyes hopeful. I struggled for words—and the way to say them—but before I could speak, she said, “You’re not interested, are you?”
“Donna—”
“I was a fool for believing again, wasn’t I?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She blew a sorrowful and exasperated sigh and closed her eyes. “What was I thinking?”
Then she turned to me. “You’re questioning my timing, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“You thought I was impressed with your sudden money.”
I shook my head. “I know you don’t care about that.”
She bit her lip. “But money’s important to you, isn’t it?”
“Donna—”
“And that’s why you loved Alice.”
I was too startled to speak.
“I didn’t want her money.”
“No, of course not,” Donna replied, shaking her head. “But you wanted her life.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
Donna let her hands fall lonely-like to her lap. She swallowed, then crossed her arms defensively and looked out her window for a moment. “I’m sorry, Stephen. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I meant … she was so … so what can we say? Exotic.”
She reached over again—as if she couldn’t stop touching me— and gently grasped my arm. Her gaze was scrutinizing but vulnerable. “Did you ever love me, Stephen?”
It was a simple question. But instead of leaning toward her, instead of squeezing her hand, instead of answering immediately and vehemently in the affirmative, I hesitated, and one moment’s hesitation was all it took. When I finally attempted an answer, Donna smiled sadly. It was a painful smile, tinged with heartache, and her face turned splotchy red. “That’s not the kind of question you have to think about.” She blinked and the tears slipped down her face, but I resisted the inclination to reach over and wipe her cheeks.
Stillness overcame us, and I looked down at my fidgeting hands. The wind was blowing harder against the edge of the car, rocking it gently. The snowflakes pelted the car like sand pebbles.
“You caught me by surprise,” I managed weakly.
“You were right, though. We were best friends once,” she continued wistfully. “Isn’t that what you told Alycia?”
I nodded. So they
had
talked.
Donna sniffed softly and wiped her cheeks. “After years of trying to live together, we forgot what it was like,” she continued. “But since you seem convinced that we’re truly over, and you have every right to feel that way—I mean … after how I left you and all … then I’m willing to try for what we once had. Are you willing?”
I considered her generous offer and felt another wave of regret. It was unlikely that we could ever return to the friendship we had in college. Most likely marriage had ruined that as well. But Donna, in her sweet naïvety, wasn’t ready to let it go.
“I’m not a fool, Stephen. I’ve learned to accept your limitations.” She bit her lip. “Well, I don’t mean you are the only one who has them—I sure do.” She turned and seemed to appraise me again. Her next words came out haltingly. “You know, I never thought I’d get married in the first place. You of all people should remember that. I was afraid of my own voice. How many times did you and Alice try to fix me up?” She blew out a humorous breath and started again. “I never intended to marry, unless…” And then she stopped again.
Unless what?
I thought, waiting for her to finish, but she didn’t.
The windshield was filling with windblown snow, almost completely eliminating visibility. She pursed her lips regretfully. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re right. We just took the wrong road. We were lonely, but that wasn’t a good reason to marry. Sometimes it’s not too late, you know, to go back and take the right road, the one we should have taken in the first place.”
I shrugged and now reached for her hand. Our conversation was coming to a close, and she allowed me a gentle squeeze before pulling away. It was time to go. We drove back to town in silence. When I pulled up in front of the apartment, she drew the parka closer around her, peering out her window toward the building. She blew into her hands in preparation of getting out into the cold.
And then she turned to me, meeting my gaze before speaking. “Do you think God will forgive us for what we’re about to do?”
I opened my mouth to say something reassuring, but stopped. No matter what I said, she wouldn’t believe it, and then it occurred to me. Hadn’t I refused her request for reconciliation?
I told her this and she shook her head sadly. “It’s still my fault,” she whispered, and slipped out into the cold.
In the end, we took separate cars so as not to mislead the court into believing that our marriage was reparable. I met her at the courthouse, and it only took another ten minutes, a slam of the gavel, and a loud announcement,
Next case!
to dissolve our marriage.
In the hallway afterward, we paused awkwardly. I was tempted to hug her but didn’t. I was also tempted to ask her out to lunch—to celebrate? To soothe her damaged feelings?—but quickly dismissed it. Lunch at this time would be awkward and counterproductive. But maybe someday we might get together and … reminisce?
Of course not,
I realized.
In the end, we said good-bye as if nothing had happened, ignoring that we’d considered changing our minds, ignoring the fact that Donna still loved me, and the ultimate irony, I still loved her.
