Regeneration X (16 page)

“The truth is, over the past few months, it didn’t feel like much had changed, at least in our day to day. I thought you were going to set a plan in motion sooner than you did … you’d start taking a few classes here and there. When you didn’t, I let things slip back into their pattern.

“For myself, I’ve just been trying to get past your appearance, almost ignoring it until the old you fades from my mind. It’s been odd; I didn’t know you when you looked this young. So I do see your point about us and our life obviously being different now. I guess I have been soft-pedaling for both your sake and mine. I thought I was being supportive by being constant.”

“I know and I appreciate it, but we made a promise that we would always have one other. It means we have to find ways to adapt when one of us or our lives change. It’s a different kind of constance.”

“Yes, I agree, but I can’t see a way around this impossible situation … no reasonable solution,” he pondered

“It can’t be impossible when so much has already happened and much more is inevitable, especially now that I’ve been accepted. We have to figure it out, even if it takes talking about it every day. And I don’t want to be badgering you, asking you where you stand. So, please, don’t ignore it like it’s a tiny pebble in your shoe. I know it’s a cheesy analogy, but it’s not a pebble. A whole week has passed, and if I hadn’t brought it up again, then what?”

“I was going to bring it up.

“Really I was,” he added in response to the blank look on my face.

I was trying to be expressionless, but there must have been something telling. “It doesn’t matter now. Come September, I don’t want us to be in a place where we are uncertainly saying ‘bye’ just before I get on a plane. It’s going to be like ‘what the heck just happened?’ And we’re going to feel like we’ve abandoned one another. I know I will and it shouldn’t be that way.”

“Seems to me you are choosing to go off and do your own thing, leaving it to me to choose my career or you. Maybe you feel you’ve sacrificed years of your life for us and now you want me to return the favor.”

“Christ! That’s not fair! I’ve never blamed you for my choices.

“I just don’t think it’s wrong to want more out of life. I’m not asking you to give up your career for me or for the sake of mine. I’m asking you to make your own choices when it comes to adapting to our new situation, while taking into account that what you think is fine is not fine by me. I want you to understand we do not feel the same about everything and this has to be okay.”

“I know. I’m sorry, that was harsh.”

“Very. There must be some way that we can both be happy.”

“So what you’re saying is, you’re going whether I like it or not,” he said. “Do you want me to come with you or do you think it will be easier for you on your own?”

“Of course I want you to come. It won’t be easier on my own, you’re my everyone.”

“I guess it comes down to action now,” perhaps accepting his part in this for the first time. “Just as I said to you, there are ways nowadays. I will make a conscientious effort to think about my choices and make a decision soon. I promise,” he said, subconsciously twisting the wedding ring on his finger.

・ ・ ・

I received two more acceptance and two rejection letters. The first response I received was still my preference and my decision, so I didn’t bother to mention the other replies to Michael. I was afraid if he knew I could attend school in the US and closer to home it would defer his decision. Especially since he seemed to be making headway—he arranged to meet with Dr. Baum.

His first appointment was yesterday. While I was curious to know how it went and what they talked about, I didn’t pressure him into revealing any confidences. All he said was, “It went well. He’s easy to talk to. I haven’t decided anything yet—still thinking this through—but I’m getting closer to understanding my options. Dr. Baum’s concern is I choose what is right for me and not as a consequence of your choice.”

“That’s exactly what I hoped he’d say,” I replied. Judging by our last conversation, I was just happy Michael was thinking about it and talking with someone who didn’t have a stake in his decision one way or the other. And regardless of how disappointed I was now, knowing he felt the way he did, I
did
want him to find his own answers.

He needed to determine if he would be able to continue teaching at the university or have to start fresh somewhere else. What was the potential of working at a different institution in a different country, anyway? Would students respect him if he appeared young and consequently inexperienced? How did he feel about cosmetic surgery for himself and how would he deal with peoples’ perception of him afterward? What would be his new reality if he were to regenerate for the sake of youthful verve and appearance and not complete the re-aging process? I hope he’s asking all the right questions. I thought, wanting to advise him of the possibilities he maybe hadn’t considered, but I did not want to influence his process. I tempered my patience and remained supportive. Besides, he already had my experience as a guide up to this point, and that should have been enough to foresee some of the challenges ahead.

He did, however, relay some of his thoughts, and I listened and responded with understanding. I knew he was swaying more toward CR now and not re-aging was the option he found more appealing. At least then, he and I wouldn’t be so far divided in physical age. We could still grow old together, and he’d feel and look younger for many more years to come. As he said before, he didn’t really want to do anything over, so there didn’t seem a point in re-aging. He was tenured and looked forward to retiring in a few years. If he re-aged he would have to work until he reached at least 67, and, while he felt fulfilled career-wise, 50 more years of working was a far cry from the nine which remained as of now.

Once he told me this much, I started planning again. First, I spoke with a real estate agent (just in case), but renting the house was also an option so I called some leasing companies as well. Then I looked into international relocation resources and compiled a list of schools around London with an Art History program. I also covertly inquired whether there were enough online art history courses at UW should Michael decide to teach remotely. Plenty. Seemed Michael was a dinosaur in his methods. I would be surprised if he maintained his position as a live lecturer for the next nine years regardless of our new circumstances.

・ ・ ・

Michael’s birthday in July and my birthday in September came and went. He met with Dr. Baum for several months before deciding he would undergo CR but not re-age. This didn’t shock me. However, some of his other choices did. He also resolved to regenerate to 33 years old in order to maintain the appearance of maturity for work reasons while at the same time, lessening the current disparity in age between us. Incongruously, he revealed his plan was to remain in Seattle and therefore, not come with me. The most difficult of the decisions to make, this meant we were going to try a brief separation for one term.

I thought it had finally dawned on him that we had changed over the years and grown further apart. I hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell him this. We had been doing our own thing for so long now; we were just co-existing—essentially making it easier to share the burdens of living, but our romantic feelings for one another had suffered consequently. Knowing how he ignored signs (in real life), I did however prompt him by asking, “Michael, I know you love me, as I love you. We are family, but are you still
in
love with me?”

“You know, I never imagined this. We’ve been married for a long time and now I think we should take some time to think about that. Maybe time and our patterns have gotten in the way of us. I know I think of you as my best friend, but I also know it’s not enough.”

It hurt. He didn’t say he didn’t love me with those precise words, but what he did say couldn’t be misinterpreted. He’d become reserved. I chalked it up to him having a lot on his mind and some big decisions to make. Now it was easy to see why. Apparently, his meetings with Dr. Baum provoked him to reflect on more than his career.

I had realized the same, some time ago, but my insides trembled at the mutual recognition. I was at a loss for words. We could have stayed together, which is what I hoped for, together but aware—and therefore, consciously making an effort to be better for one another. However, this was not to be, and my leaving was never supposed to be an underhanded attempt to fix a broken marriage. It wasn’t broken, it was stale, and that was all. Still, maybe some time apart would not only help each of us find ourselves, but also restore our affections so we could renew our vows with confidence in our love for one another.

・ ・ ・

One evening as we made ready to watch a movie together, Michael sat down next to me and began talking.

“I said it was strange to see you lying in a hospital bed, breathing but unconscious for three days. Half the time I couldn’t tell if you
were
even breathing. The doctors said you were fine. I couldn’t help being doubtful seeing you like that,” he said speaking softly, almost in a purposeful whisper.

At first, I was confused why he decided to bring this up now, as if my regeneration had been a week ago, but I sat and listened without uttering a sound.

He reached over, took my hand in his, and continued, “The first day, I was worried out of my mind thinking you were leaving me alone. Then the longer I sat there looking at you, other involuntary thoughts started to spring up. I thought about how you said we have no photos of us and we hadn’t been making memories to carry us into the old age we would have spent together. It occurred to me that maybe we just hadn’t been taking photos, but we had memories, surely.

“So I tried. I tried for the entire next day to remember moments in our lives, and all I could come up with were blinks of images of driving staring out at the road ahead, moving into the house carrying boxes, and sitting and watching TV. In all of these, I’m looking out somewhere. But where are you? I know you’re there beside me, but I don’t see you. What did you look like? Was there something you said?

“Everything I remembered, which felt like we were in this life together, was from over ten years ago. We laughed, had mini-adventures, and concocted some pretty far-fetched schemes. I recalled the time we spent that summer trying to control the kudzu choking the trees in the back yard. We were so young and energetic and it was hard work, but we did it,
together
. You called me Monkey Mike most of that summer before we came up with the idea of tying the vines to the back of the car. It made me smile to think of it again—watching the vines come peeling off the trunks as they did. It was crazy genius. But that was back then.

“There were years upon years I’m in my study or out with Fergus, and I come home to one house or another when I should have been coming home to you, damn the house.

“I couldn’t help but think, ‘What if she’s dead?’ I would spend weeks, months—who know how long—expecting to find you engrossed in your work in your office. I would lock the door and not go there. And this led me to what seemed like another decade, sitting there looking at you trying to memorize your features. I couldn’t even remember your laugh, what you looked like when you were
really
sleeping, or your million facial expressions. Most of all, I couldn’t remember stopping to see if there was still love in your eyes for
me
.

“I was disappointed in myself,” he paused suddenly before saying, “I didn’t tell you this before because you already knew what I did not see.”

We sat there, beside one another on the sofa not speaking, but holding hands; me trying to absorb everything he’d just said and him possibly reflecting back on those three days, which revealed so much. He didn’t turn to me as if expecting a reply, so I stayed quiet. He knew I understood. Ironically, I would likely experience the same during his three days, but the past ten years were no different through my eyes.

At this moment, I knew he was
setting me free
.

Chapter Fourteen

Indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.

—William Shakespeare,
Antony and Cleopatra (1.2)

・
・
・

AFTER THE ONE-WAY CONVERSATION, UP UNTIL his Renovation procedure, in November, Michael acted pretty much the same as he always had with a few more hours of seclusion (with Fergus) in his study. I carried on with my daily routine, purposely giving him the extra space to decide what he’d do with his newfound youth.

Neither of us acknowledged the turnabout we were about to take.

He decided to take the remaining weeks off as sabbatical to recover until the start of winter term. From the side effects I had, he knew the time away from work would be needed. For him, the idea itself of standing through the symptoms was nauseating.
 

I, on the other hand, continued to work while preparing for my move to London; finding a variety of new challenges and considerations to keep my mind occupied, away from us. I was going to start school a term late and felt mildly irritated for being held back because he was slow to make his decision. But, I couldn’t be angry since the outcome was both devastating and liberating. Even being annoyed by the delay was a distracting emotion; I couldn’t quite wrap my head around being apart from him. It was an option I’d added to the list of options, but not one I truly thought through.

One of those challenges was where I was going to live. I could live in the school dorms, but tuition, as a non-resident student, was already a concern. Luckily, my Aunt Joy and cousins lived in London. They might serve as a landing pad until I found an apartment near campus. It had been a while since I was familiar with the layout of London, and I couldn’t readily picture the area around the school. Finding an apartment for rent over the internet would be hard, even if I could enlist my cousin Nina’s, help. Also, a chat with Inez and Becks might reveal some new considerations in living arrangements; an opportunity to turn their world upside down too, if they accepted the dare.