Shattered Perfection (21 page)

I slugged him in the shoulder.  “My god.  You are a bigger pervert than he is.”

“Those are the most persuasive words in man-speak, Peaches.  That’s some wisdom, right there.” 

“Thanks, Justin.”  I said with a big grin.

“Now, I think I’ve laid enough knowledge on you for one day.  I don’t expect you’re in a hurry to get home just yet, though.  You want another beer?  You can kick back, relax and watch a movie.  I have some work I need to finish up, but you’re free to make yourself at home for as long as you like.”

“I think I will, if you don’t mind.  I can’t thank you enough for listening and everything.  You really are an awesome guy.”

“Don’t let it get out, darlin’.  You’ll ruin my reputation as a badass.  Beers are in the fridge.  Help yourself,” he said as he swaggered off to his home office.

I awoke to a hand shaking my shoulder.  “Mimi, wake up, darlin’.”  You fell asleep.”

I immediately sat up, rubbing my eyes.  “I’m sorry, Justin.  I just drifted off.  What time is it?”  I asked, looking around.  It was dark outside the picture window in the living room, and I had a sudden sense of disorientation.  It could have been eight p.m. or three a.m. and I wouldn’t have known the difference. 

“It’s only about six-thirty.  I would have checked on you earlier, but I got caught up in the project I was working on.  You should be getting home though.  I’m sure Vance has cooled down by now and is probably wondering where you are,” he said.

“You’re right.  He’s probably worried, since I didn’t leave a note or anything,” I said, thinking of how he acted when I didn’t call to let him know I’d be late.  I dug my phone out my purse to check to see if he’d left me any messages, but my phone was blank.  Maybe he hadn’t cooled off yet after all.  In any case, it was time to get home.  He was sure to be hungry, and I was determined he’d have another home cooked meal.  Especially since I didn’t get to make him lunch.

I shouldered my bag, gave Justin a quick hug and dashed out to my car.  I made it home in no time, but the house was dark and Vance’s car was missing from the drive.  I went through the house, flicking on lights as I went.  I looked for a note, but didn’t find anything anywhere.  When I got to his office, I noticed the box of files was missing and my heart deflated.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he was.  He had gone to the office.  There was no telling when he’d be home now.

I went ahead with my plan to cook him a nice meal, just to make myself feel better.  I made sirloin steaks with baked potatoes and spinach on the side.  I left a plate for him in the oven, while I sat at our kitchen table all alone, eating my food and wondering how to turn things around.  I could only hope things would work out as I had hoped after my conversation with Justin.  Once this deal was over, and I got him away from all this pressure, things would be fine.

After I finished eating, I cleaned up the dishes, left a note on the refrigerator for Vance to let him know dinner was waiting for him in the oven and went to bed for the night.

I never heard Vance come home that night, but I knew he’d been there because his suit was laying across the foot of the bed when I awoke the next morning and there was still a fog across the mirror in the bathroom from his shower.  I decided I would go back to work that day as well, since it seemed our time together was over.  I went to the kitchen to make my morning cup of coffee and to my horror, I found his plate from the night before, turned over in the middle of the floor, food splattered everywhere.

Two weeks passed much as they had before “the incident” as I was coming to call it in my head.  We almost never saw each other, with Vance leaving before I woke in the morning and coming home after I went to bed at night.  Every afternoon, before I left work, I sent a text message to see if he wanted me to bring dinner like we had planned while he had been off.  He always responded that he was too busy that day, but maybe the next.  It never happened. 

One Friday evening just before Christmas, Vance came home from work early in an amazingly good mood, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other.  I was in the kitchen going over cookbooks trying to plan a menu for Christmas dinner.  I had invited both of our mothers to spend the holiday with us, and was looking forward to a picture perfect evening filled with family and love.  Very Norman Rockwell. 

Vance dropped his burdens on the table and scooped me up into his arms, twirling me around the kitchen.  I couldn’t help but laugh at his exuberance.

“What’s gotten into you?”  I exclaimed as he twirled me around a few more times.

He stopped and gave me a warm, smacking kiss.  I reached up with my fingertips and touched my lips.  It was the first time he had shown me any affection since that last day he was off work. 

I stared at him, wide eyed as he smiled down at me, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. 

“It’s over!” he exclaimed.  “We closed on the deal today!  All those weeks of hell are finally over.”

I gasped in disbelief at first, and then as the realization of what that meant soaked into my brain, I jumped into his arms.

“Finally, I get my husband back!”  I yelled at the top of my lungs.

I pulled back and beamed at him.  We could go back to our normal, happy lives.  We could take that trip to Lake Tahoe and I could convince him that this job was wrong for us and that he needed to find something that allowed us to put our marriage first. 

“You haven’t even heard the best part yet, Mimi.”  He said, grabbing my upper arms and shaking me slightly in his excitement.

“What, what?”  I cried, his enthusiasm infecting me like an airborne virus.

He paused, presumably for dramatic effect.  “I did it, Mimi.  All the hard work paid off.  I’m the newest partner at the firm!”

My stomach bottomed out and my face instantly fell.  I tried to recover as fast as I could and gave him a tight smile, but my reaction did not go unnoticed.

His hands fell away from me as if I’d burned him.  He took two swift steps away from me, his face twisting into an ugly expression I’d never seen before.

“I thought you’d be happy for me, Mimi.”  He began to pace the length of the kitchen.  “You know this is what I’ve been working toward.  Why I have put in all these long hours.  Why I work my ass off.  Instead of sharing in my joy, like someone who actually loves me would, you look like you’ve swallowed a bug.  Why on earth I thought you’d actually want this for me too, I have no idea.  You’ve always been so selfish.  I was a fool to think this situation would be any different.  I should have called Tiffany.”

I gasped in absolute shock.    “You wouldn’t…”

“No, I wouldn’t, but I should.  No one would blame me, with the way you treat me,” he spat.

I shook my head back and forth.  I felt like I had stepped into some bizarre dimension where everything was backwards.  When had I ever been anything but good and loving towards him?  How could he accuse me of these things?

“Vance, it’s not that I’m not happy for you.  I know this is what you have wanted.  It’s just that the stress of your job has taken such a toll on you, on our marriage.  Forgive me, but I’m worried about what this promotion means for us.  You’ll be under more pressure, and you’ll probably still be working long hours.  Your mood has been so erratic lately—I mean just listen to the things you’re saying to me.  You know me better than that.  You know I love you and only want good things for you, for us,” I stammered out. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mimi.  Yes, I’ve worked long hours, but that’s to be expected.  You knew I didn’t have a nine to five job when you married me.  But as far as my mood and the things I’m saying?  I’m only telling you what I see.  You’ve been a real bitch lately, totally unsupportive of my needs and understanding of my obligations.  Like when you text me trying to get me to have dinner with you when you know I have to work.  Only thinking about what you want, never about what I need.”

He hung his head then, putting his fingers to his temples and rubbing in small circles.  He blew out a long breath before speaking again.

“Now you’ve given me a headache.  I can’t even go out and celebrate my hard work on my own or with my friends.  Thanks, Mimi.  Once again, you’ve managed to ruin everything.”  He turned and walked from the kitchen, leaving me standing there with my jaw gaping, and my heart bleeding.

Of course, we never made it to Lake Tahoe, or anywhere we talked about as we cuddled that day in bed when he was off work.  In retrospect, that was the last beautiful day we had together.  The last day of our marriage as I had known it to be. 

One day bled into the next, a study of loneliness, peppered by unpleasant encounters with Vance on the few days he would come home at a decent hour.  When he did, he always let me know ahead of time, so I could have dinner waiting for him when he arrived, but he was always in a foul mood.  Whether it was from a bad day at work, or a rough commute home, he was completely unpleasant.  When he spoke to me, which wasn’t always, he always found fault with something.  It could be what I was wearing, or with what I cooked, or how it was prepared.  He grew meaner and meaner, to the point of being outright cruel.  He’d call me fat, even though I hadn’t gained an ounce of weight since the day that I’d met him.  He’d criticize the way I wore my hair, telling me Tiffany’s long length and shade of auburn was much more appealing.  He made fun of my clothes, insisting they were too boring and that I should dress sexier to “liven things up” if I wanted to keep his attention.  As if I wanted any of his attention at that point.  My goal was to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

He took to sleeping in the guest room, which was fine with me.  The less he was near me the better.  One day, on a night he was working late, I took all his clothes and moved them into that room so he had no reason to ever come into our bedroom anymore.  We were roommates as far as I was concerned, at that point. 

I thought about leaving him.  I couldn’t see things getting any better, since I didn’t know how to fix the problems we had and he certainly didn’t seem interested in doing anything other than using me for a verbal punching bag.  Still, I was holding on to how things had been between us, and I hadn’t stopped loving him.  He hurt me day after day, but some part of me still believed my Vance was somewhere deep inside him, and I only had to figure out how to find him and bring him back to me.  I knew his job was the source of all our problems, his ongoing headaches being more evidence that his job was killing not only us, but his health as well.  He just looked bad.  He looked gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes.  My handsome, happy husband was gone, and replaced with a harried-looking bitter man who did nothing but work and bring me down at every opportunity.  I felt if he could find a position in a firm that wasn’t so high profile and had a more relaxed atmosphere, he would return to his normal self.  I had to believe that, or I would give up altogether.

Then came that final night.  Vance had sent me a text message letting me know he would be home early in the afternoon, doing some work from home, specifically advising what he wanted for dinner.  He said he had news to share with me, so I should be home as early as I could be, too.

I left work at lunchtime, so I could stop by the market and pick up the ingredients for the meal he had requested.  I figured he was in good spirits for a change, since he was requesting fried chicken and mashed potatoes, a favorite of his, but not something he usually indulged in.  Since he seemed to be in a festive mood, I also picked up the ingredients for a chocolate silk pie, since I knew that was also a favorite of his.  Might as well go all out, and show him I could make the effort.  I was downtrodden at this point, but there was still that tiny spark of hope that could be fanned into something brighter with just a hint of encouragement.

When I got home, Vance was already in his office, but he didn’t come out to greet me.  I changed into a pair of soft pants and a short-sleeved blouse and began working on the pie.  By the time it was setting in the refrigerator, it was time to start preparing dinner.

As I was peeling the potatoes, Vance came in to the kitchen and got a bottle of white wine that had been chilling in the refrigerator.  He silently popped the cork and poured himself a glass.  He pulled another glass from the cabinet, and offered it to me, but I just looked at him quizzically.

“Oh, that’s right,” he said softly.  “You still don’t like wine.”

I shook my head silently and continued peeling the potatoes. 

He cleared his throat, then began speaking.  “I have news,” he said.

“You do?  About what?” I asked mildly.

“I’ve been offered a position in the New York office.” 

I nodded.  “With the ‘big boys,’” I said.  “That’s great.  It’s exactly what you’ve always wanted.”

“How do you feel about it?” he asked.

I was taken aback for a moment.  He was asking me how I felt about something?   It was a trap.  I knew it.  I responded before he could detect any change in my demeanor.

“I just told you.  I think it’s great,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could feign.

“I’m proud of you, Mimi.  I really expected you to object and complain about this.  If I had known you’d be happy for me for once, I would have suggested we go out and make a real celebration of it.”

“What’s not to celebrate?  This was always the plan from day one, right?  I think you mentioned it the day I met you, even,” I said, smiling.  “I had a feeling you had good news, based on what you requested for dinner, so I went ahead and made you a chocolate silk pie, too.  So, even though we’re not dressed up, or at a five star restaurant, we can make do with some of your favorites.”

He smiled in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time: that dazzling Pepsodent smile that used to make my heart melt every time I saw it.  Now it only made my heart ache.

“See, Mimi.  When you put the effort in, we can have a nice time together like we used to.  Maybe New York will be a new start for us.”

I just nodded.  It hurt to hear him say what we’d had was simply “a nice time.”  It had been spectacular, all consuming, beautiful and so very special.  He reduced it to merely a bland, convenient relationship between two mostly indifferent people in one sentence.  That was what we had now, when he wasn’t being cruel and awful to me.  Then to insult me on top of it all, by acting as if the demise of our relationship was my fault, it was almost more than I could bear.  Nevertheless, I kept my composure and began cutting up the potatoes and putting them in the pot for boiling.