Getting to Happy (10 page)

“Aren’t they always,” Tarik said, nodding his head slowly. He, of course, knew all of this already. “Where is Marvin?”

“Right now he’s on the way to the coroner’s office.”

“He’s on his way to the coroner’s office,” Tarik repeated.

The younger officer wanted to reach out to squeeze Tarik’s arm or something, but knew this wouldn’t help his blue brother, at least not right now. Plus, this wasn’t in the codebook. “We’ll just wait out here until after you tell her.”

“Tarik,” Gloria said. She was standing in the doorway and eyeing the officers suspiciously. “Is something wrong?”

Tarik opened his eyes as wide as possible, hoping the air would ventilate them and evaporate the moisture and redness. He wasn’t sure if it worked. All he knew was that he needed to be strong right now. As he turned to look at his mother, he saw her take in sips of air and a look of terror was filling up her eyes.

She already knew.

Love Don’t Live Here Anymore

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you,” I say to Isaac as soon as he walks in the door. I’m sitting on the love seat in the Great Room. Two cold crab cakes sit on a paper plate on the cocktail table. The salad is wilted, the French fries hard. I thought I could eat.

“How about, ‘Welcome home, Isaac’?”

“Welcome back, Isaac. I meant what I just said.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” He sits down on a stool at the counter. His legs are long. They’re crossed at the ankle. The lace on one of his running shoes is undone. I‘m tempted to tell him, but then that would mean I’m creating some kind of intimacy, which is the last thing I want to do. I need to keep my distance because of course you don’t stop loving someone on a dime just because they do something you might find unforgivable. I want to hate him, so I have to keep the focus on how pissed off I am more than on how much I am hurt. Falling apart would give him just the room he needs to touch me. Not this time, buddy.

“What if I walked in here and said, ‘Savannah, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you,’ how would you feel about that?”

This gives me a jolt. “Is that how you feel, Isaac?”

“Look, can I just get a glass of water and take a hot shower before you read me the riot act and tell me what I’ve done this time that’s so deplorable? I’m beat, Savannah.”

“Take your time.” He doesn’t look the least bit tired. In fact, he looks quite rested. There’s something different about him. He’s wearing the same look on his face that I’ve seen right after we’ve had great sex. I’m surprised I can still remember. I’m not going to think about this because I almost don’t care. He did something in Vegas besides touch wood. That much I do know.

When he pushes himself up to a standing position and takes a step, he almost trips over the shoestring. I feel bad but not that bad. “I see you got a new laptop.”

“That I did.” It’s on the kitchen table.

“You like it?” he asks.

“They’re all the same when you get right down to it.”

“Were you able to recover all your stuff?”

“Pretty much. You might want to look at yours after you get out of the shower.”

“Why, did you try to use it?”

“I did, but I had the same problem you had.”

“Really,” he says, rather suspiciously.

“Really.”

I can see he’s tempted to go into his office but he’s afraid to open that door. I think he knows I know what he’s been doing in his so-called office. “Why don’t you go on and take your shower.”

“Maybe I will.”

This whole thing feels weird. This is not how you end a marriage, is it? I’m wondering deep down inside if I really want to end it or if I just want to break up the monotony. I wish I could keep the parts of Isaac I still love. I wish I could pretend I never saw what I saw, that I don’t feel so let down. I wish we still excited each other. But which one weighs more?

He turns down the hallway. I hear his office door open. My heart is beating fast and now I’m anxious. I’m tempted to lunge off the sofa but for some reason I don’t. I want to confront him from where I’m sitting. I want him to stand still and look down at me, so his eyes can’t avoid mine.

“Savannah!” he yells. “What the hell did you do with my computer and what’s all this shit on the wall?”

Out he comes. He doesn’t have the look I imagined. There’s anger in his voice but not rage. After all, I invaded his space. Violated his world, the one he thought was secret. The next thing I know he’s standing over me. “I had no idea you were such a freak,” I say.

“I’m not a freak. What did you do with my computer?”

“It’s in the pool.”

He looks outside as if he might see it floating or doing laps. “You threw it in the pool?”

“That’s what I just said.” I stand up like a soldier. “You are one sneaky, lying son-of-a-bitch, Isaac, and I wish I’d known I couldn’t trust you from here to the corner.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yes, you have. And you know it.” I’m trying not to cry but it feels like I’m crying anyway. He takes a few steps toward me. I jump back. “Don’t even think about fucking touching me.”

“Savannah, come on, now. Maybe I went too far. But none of this has anything to do with how I feel about you.”

“Fuck you, Isaac.”

“It’s just something we do for kicks.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Guys.”

“I don’t care what guys do, Isaac. How would you feel if you found a bunch of naked men on my laptop, huh?”

“They’d probably be gay.”

I just roll my eyes at him.

“Look, Savannah, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Okay, so maybe I have a little problem.”

“But it’s your problem, Isaac, not mine.”

“I’d be willing to stop, I swear. It’s wearing me out anyway, living at night the way I have been.”

“You’ve been having sex with these women, Isaac.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. I’ve seen some of what you’ve been doing, and you can just keep on getting your dick sucked in cyberspace or whatever else you may do with all these freaky-ass women. I couldn’t even watch some of the weird shit you’ve been doing, not to mention the money you’ve been spending. I get it now.”

He sits on a stool and stands up again. I’ve backed away from him as far as I can go and am leaning against the doors that lead outside. The glass is cold but I welcome it.

Isaac gets a bottle of water from the fridge and drinks it in two swallows. This time he leans on the counter and peers over at me. “Well, you know what, Savannah? What if I told you that as much as I still love you, I think I might be tired of being married to you, too. I’m tired of you being in charge of my life.”

This stings. He may as well have shot an arrow right in the middle of the blood vessels that lead to my heart. “How in the world am I in charge of your life, Isaac?”

“You try to be. Just because I don’t like what you like.”

“That is not true and you know it.”

“You’ve never tried to come over to my side. You always expect me to come over to yours.” He sits on a different stool. It seems as if he’s been waiting a long time to get this off his chest.

I could’ve gone down the list of all the things I’ve done over the years just to keep the peace, but it didn’t feel like it was worth it. “What you just said isn’t true and you know it, Isaac. I’ve tried to be as supportive as I possibly could. Who was it that helped you start your business?”

“We both know the answer to that. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I can’t help it if I’m not as gung-ho about fences and decks and playhouses as you are!”

“You don’t have to be gung-ho about them, but at least show some respect for what I do.”

“I don’t even believe this! You don’t even watch my shows!”

“Because they’re boring, Savannah. There’s no punch to them. You’re just reporting what you see—what we all see—and what we already know. That’s why I don’t watch them!”

This is just the kick in the stomach I needed. “You know what? Fuck you, Isaac! If they were so boring then how have I been able to keep my job all these years, huh? If everybody felt the way you do, huh?”

“Look, it’s my personal opinion, okay? I didn’t mean to say it the way that it came out. I’m sorry. I know you’re good at what you do, Savannah. That’s not what this is about, is it?”

“No, it’s not, Isaac. Not even close.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong with us.”

“I can’t tell you what’s wrong with us. But I can tell you why I’m not happy.”

“I’m listening.”

“You don’t seem all that interested in me anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t seem to care if what you do pleases me or not.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Why is that?”

“I can’t honestly say.”

“Yes, you can.”

“People’s feelings change, Savannah. Sometimes you can’t do anything about them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It could mean that I don’t feel the same kind of love I once felt for you even though I want to.”

I’m trying my hardest not to start crying again but it’s impossible. I bend my head over and yank my T-shirt up to wipe my eyes before they get wet. Did he just say he doesn’t love me anymore? Isn’t that what he just said? I pull myself together as best I can and lift my head back up. “You know something, Isaac?”

“What?” he asks, moving over toward the sofa, almost directly across from me. “Let’s not turn this into a wrestling match, Savannah, okay? I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Why would I hate you, Isaac?”

“Because even though I love you and will probably always love you, maybe it would be a good idea if we did get a divorce.”

I can’t believe he just said that. “You mean you want a divorce, too?”

“I don’t know what else we can do at this point. Why do you want one?” He’s looking at me as if I’m about to disclose some deep secret.

“Because I’m bored. Because these past couple of years you’ve made me feel dispensable, unimportant, like an afterthought. Because you haven’t tried to do things that make me happy. Because you’ve deliberately done things you know won’t bring me joy. Because it seems like you’ve become my adversary instead of the warm, thoughtful, loving and considerate man I married ten years ago. Because I don’t like who you’ve become. Because you’ve forgotten how valuable I am, and I know how valuable I am and I can’t live with someone who makes me feel bad, especially when you were the one person I could rely on to make me feel good. You’ve been killing me inside, and I don’t want to die like this. This is why I want a divorce. Even though I still love you.”

He looks at me as if I’ve said the unthinkable. I see his eyes begin to glisten and now they’re a glassy red. Tears fall from his eyes. I’ve never seen Isaac cry in all the years I’ve known him. “Well,” he says, dusting his face dry. “Okay.” He stands up. “That’s ten for the home team.”

“Well, you asked.”

“That I did. I will say this, Savannah. I wish I could still love you, because you’ve been the one constant in my life. You’ve been my anchor. But you didn’t hold on to me. Your grip loosened except when it came to things you wanted me to do. Things I suppose made you value me. It was basically all the stuff I could do that you seemed more excited about. Not what was inside me. You seemed to think I was what I did but it wasn’t true, and you never bothered to look any further than the surface. That’s why I started drifting away from you. It’s how I ended up here.”

“Which is where?”

“I’ve met someone who does look inside and likes what she sees, and she understands me.”

“Did you meet her with her clothes on or off?”

“That’s not even cool, Savannah.”

“Was she swinging on a rope or slithering around a fucking pole? Did she dry-fuck you or maybe you met her in a brand-new online church?”

“Does it really matter where I met her?”

“Yes, it does matter. What matters more is how long have you been seeing the bitch?”

“She’s not a bitch. And how long I’ve been seeing her is not important right now.”

I walk over to him. “It is important, Isaac. It’s very important. It means if you’ve been sleeping with me and fucking her at the same time I want to know how long you’ve been doubling your pleasure, you sneaky son-of-a-bitch!” I push him but not hard enough for him to lose his balance.

“About a year. Does that make you feel better?” He looks down at me like he’s getting some kind of sick pleasure telling me this.

With all my might I ball up my fist, charge toward him and sock him in the nose. It feels like I might have broken my hand, but I pretend not to feel any pain. When he grabs me by the wrist, I see a drop of blood trickling from his right nostril. It gives me instant pleasure. Now I know how love can make you violent. “You lying sneaky bastard!”

“Take it easy, Savannah.” He walks into the kitchen and gets a paper towel.

I stand here waiting for the bell to announce the next round but the only sound I hear is ringing in my ears. I cannot believe my boring husband of ten years just had the nerve to say he still loves me but he’s not in love with me anymore—which really is a nice way of saying he doesn’t love me and he’s found it somewhere else with somebody else. “Did you see her in Vegas?”

He takes a few baby steps but keeps his distance while he thinks about this for a second and then says, “Yes, I did.”

“Then why did you keep hounding me about coming?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t.”

“What if I had said yes, Isaac, I’ll come with you or I’ll meet you there?” Now these stupid tears are calling the shots, and as much as I don’t want them to appear anywhere on my face, they are rolling down my cheeks, so now I head for the kitchen to get a paper towel of my own, and he takes a giant step to the side to make room for me to pass.

“You’re too hung up in your world to come into mine. I knew you wouldn’t change your mind.”

“So why’d you bother asking me?” I wipe my eyes dry. Since they’re feeling the same anger as the rest of me, most likely there will be no more tears.

“Because I was hoping if you had an inch of respect left for me then you would try to show it. And if you did, then it would’ve or could’ve possibly started to restore some of my love for you. It’s not gone, Savannah. It’s just been put on ice.”