Clearly, many of you feel that my story “In the Distance” is not finished.
I was liking where the story ended up.
So, my dear readers, take up the story line. Show me where it could go. What’s next on Brian and Jenny’s journey?
Step #8
10. Pretending not to care
As things started to go bad, after so much of my neglect, Jenny began to change. She made new friends, friends I didn’t know. I’d come home and she wouldn’t be there. She would stay out late. She wouldn’t call.
I tried to tell myself it was good. I remember thinking, Maybe she won’t be so needy. … So needy. I had lied to myself. I needed Jenny then. I needed to open my stupid mouth. I needed to show her that the distance between us was killing me. I needed to be jealous, to show everything I was feeling, to be real.
But I didn’t.
Everything I did was a lie. Though the words never came out of my mouth, I said plain and clear. “I don’t care.”
Of all the things I’d done, this was my greatest regret.
I set the pen down and looked at my yellow note pad. The clarity stared me back in the face. I had never laid a hand on Jenny. Not once had I been violent or abusive. But the image of me strangling the life out of our relationship was as real as any moment of my life. I had choked it until it was lifeless, until there was nothing left.
The emptiness of our apartment haunted me. I couldn’t even bring myself to turn on the TV or music. Everything felt lifeless without Jenny.
I fell asleep on the couch with all the lights on.
~~~~~~
When I woke, I realized it was Sunday.
I checked the clock. 8:30 a.m. I knew I needed to clear my head. Awkwardly pushing myself up off the couch, I stretched my arms up over my head. My back was stiff from sleeping on the couch.
As I headed down the hallway, I thought about climbing in a hot shower. But I couldn’t take the silence of the apartment anymore. I went to my closet and pulled out my running shoes.
Ten minutes later, I was on the street. Fifteen minutes later I had a good sweat going. I hadn’t slept well for days. It had been two weeks now since she left. I had tried to call her parents house, to see if they knew where she was. But they said Jenny had asked them not to interfere.
I didn’t know what I could say to her. But I just couldn’t imagine that it was really all over. That it had ended with her simply saying she couldn’t stay with me any more.
I turned on 7th avenue and dodged the delivery guy unloading a bundle of newspapers.
My pace began to slow. It was as if I was carrying a dead elephant on my shoulders. I tried to push through it. I needed to begin thinking clearly. What was I going to do? I couldn’t just go on forever like this. I slowed to a walk. I was having trouble breathing. I gasped for air, bending forward and resting my hands on my knees.
Breathe in, I told myself. Breathe out. In. Out. In.
Then it happened. I smelled the little German bakery. I spun around and there it was. I was at the corner of 7th and Poplar. It was almost more than I could take. It was Sunday morning and I had ended up at our favorite Sunday breakfast place.
My eyes were stinging and I felt for a moment like the whole universe was working against me.
I turned away and headed across the street. I needed to go somewhere—anywhere—else.
But when I heard the little bell on the bakery door ring, I turned.
There standing in the doorway was Jenny. She was holding a small white paper bag in her hand.
At first, I looked away. It had to be my imagination. I glanced back. Jenny tipped her head to the side. Her eyes looked swollen and tired, but she smiled.
I felt frozen.
“Hi,” Jenny called out across the nearly empty street.
“Hi,” I answered as I hesitantly started across the street.
“I was really hoping you’d come by this way,” she said as she held up the little bag. “I got your favorite.”
“You did?” I said as I reached the sidewalk.
Jenny nodded and my heart began to race.
“You remembered?”
“I’ve remembered a lot of things … a lot of things.”
I strode up to her and threw my arms around her. She threw her arms around me too.
For a moment, I was afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell. But then I thought about my list. I had let too many moments pass when I let silence speak for me. I leaned back and looked into Jenny’s beautiful eyes.
“I was so afraid that I’d never get a chance to show you. I should never have let anything come between us. I’ve been so lost, so stupid. You are everything to me. I will never let you doubt—”
Jenny gently raised her hand to my lips. She spoke softly. “I couldn’t get out of my head the look on your face when you pulled out those aquarium tickets. And I woke up this morning with the most intense craving for German pastries.”
“I do love a good German pastry,” I said with a smile.
Jenny leaned into me and her lips met mine. I slipped my hand up into her long dark hair and she pulled me tighter.
We were interrupted by the sound of the little bell on the bakery door. Embarrassed, we looked up to see a white-haired woman trying to exit the shop.
“Sorry,” I said as we stepped to the side.
“My goodness,” the old woman said with a huff as she rushed by.
Jenny and I looked at each other and laughed.
My tears stung on my cheeks as I wiped them away with the back of my hand. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. Sitting beside me in the pew was Reverend Spagnoli. He placed a strong hand on my shoulder and we sat for a moment in the silence of the empty chapel.
“Do you know where she went?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “I asked … all she would say is that she couldn’t stay with me.”
“I wish I could do something to help,” the Reverend said gently.
“You did, Reverend. You did help,” I said.
“If this is how I help …”
I leaned back and looked at his face. “You changed the way I saw the whole situation. It was getting better. What has happened now was my own fault.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Brian.” The Reverend’s voice was firm. “In the end, it was Jenny’s choice to leave.”
“But I should have told her right when it happened …”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But maybe she would have left then. Maybe you wouldn’t have had this one night, this one connection.”
“It was an aberration—it was gone in an instant. And now she’s gone.”
“I understand why you feel that way. But, Brian, you can’t give up all hope.” Reverend Spagnoli put his arm around my shoulders. “There are no accidents. Everything happens for a reason.”
I wanted to believe and understand. But it was so hard to see any light in this darkness.
“When I can’t see the reason, I just hold onto hope. Sometimes, it’s all we have.”
~~~~~~
I walked into the empty apartment. It felt like a funeral parlor and all I wanted to do was turn around and leave.
As I hesitated in the hallway, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. It was William Graham.
I pressed the button. “Mr. Graham,” I said.
“Brian, how are you?”
“I’m OK,” I lied.
“Listen, I heard about your father. Is he doing alright?”
I was stunned. “Yeah, yeah, he’s doing much better.”
“That’s good to hear. Now, tell me how’s your job search going?”
“Frankly, with the whole thing with my dad … well, I’ve barely started,” I stammered.
“Brian, I want you to call my friend Charles Burch. His firm is small, but they’re growing.”
I knew the evening would have it’s difficult moments. We had been so cold to each other for so long, that recreating our first date at the aquarium mostly served to create awkward moments of silence. I thought back to the way we laughed so hard together that first night. But I wouldn’t dare try a joke tonight. It was like holding the most fragile piece of crystal and any carelessness might shatter it into a million pieces.
Eventually, I brought up Reverend Spagnoli.
“You’ve been going to church?” Jenny asked in genuine surprise.
“Well, no, not like services or anything,” I answered.
Jenny cocked her head to the side. “So what, is it like confession?”
I smiled. “More like a twelve step program.”
“You mean like Alcoholics Anonymous?”
“Kind of …,” I said. “He’s just someone I met who seemed—I don’t know—to give me a place to start.”
Jenny nodded slowly and then was silent. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
We turned a corner and walked into a room with a tank full of spectacularly bright yellow fish. They darted back and forth in the enormous tank like a choreographed dance. We both paused for a moment and watched. I wanted to keep the conversation going, but everything I could think to say seemed so forced.
A few minutes later, she told me a story about when her elementary class had visited the aquarium on a field trip.
On the way home, I pulled the car into the parking lot of a little mom and pop drugstore. I knew they had great old-fashioned sodas and I thought it would be a good place to end the evening.
After we had received our order, I took a big swallow of my soda and then took a deep breath. “Hey, I want you to know how much I appreciate tonight.”
Jenny gave me a half smile.
“I know it’s been hard. But I promise—”
Jenny’s hand shot up in front of my face. “Don’t!” she said forcefully. “Don’t promise, Brian.”
“But I mean it. I truly mean it,” I answered trying to keep my own emotions from boiling up.
“You’ve promised too many things.” Jenny’s sarcasm made it clear just how deeply I had hurt her over the years.
“It will be different,” I said with complete confidence.
“How can you say that? How can you …”
“I know what you’re saying. I haven’t kept my word. It’s a mistake I intend to do everything I can to repair.” I tried to look in Jenny’s eyes, but she just looked away.
“Things will be different. … Things are already different,” I said softly.
Jenny turned to me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you … the day my dad had the stroke … Mr. Graham fired me.”
Jenny’s spine instantly stiffened. Her brow furrowed and her lips narrowed.
True to her word, Jenny was sitting in the living room when I arrived home. I guess I should have anticipated the skeptical look on her face. But I had been hoping to see a smile.
Jenny leaned back into the couch and crossed her arms.
I pulled out the bouquet of flowers I’d been hiding behind my back. Four carnations. Jenny’s face changed. But I didn’t get the smile I had imagined. I could not tell what she was feeling or thinking.
“Brian,” she said softly. “What are you doing?”
The whole drive back, I’d been practicing what I’d say. I knew this might be my last chance. I was so excited to deliver my first apology. But suddenly, my heart was pounding and my throat started to close off.
“Jenny.” I was embarrassed to hear my voice squeak like I was hitting puberty again. But I pressed forward. “I know I have not been there for you. I know that it seems our dreams have taken us in different directions. And I know that I’ve been the one to blame.”
I saw Jenny’s lips press together. I knew that she wanted to lash out, to take the bait and hogtie me with my own heartstrings. But she didn’t. She waited.
I took a deep breath. “There was a night, you had made big plans for us. You were so excited. But I let my work get in the way. I promised you that I’d make it up to you.” I paused, “And I realized that I never have.”
“I’m afraid that it’s too late. It’s just not ….” Jenny’s voice trailed off and she shook her head.
I had let my hope build up inside me for the whole six hour drive home. Now, I felt like I was trying to hold water in my hands. I stammered.
“It’s only too late if … we decide not to even try.”
“I tried, Brian. I tried for years.” Jenny’s eyes were turning red.
“I know you did. That’s what I’ve been realizing. That’s why I want to make it right.”
“What can you do? What can make it right?” Jenny’s voice started to rise.
“I know the time in the past is the past. I can’t bring it back. I can’t make that right.”
I could see on her face that she wanted to say it, she wanted to open her mouth and smack me right between the eyes with “Exactly!” But she didn’t. Again she waited.
“But once you had a dream of the future and I was part of that dream. All I’m asking is for a chance to show you that I want to be part of that dream again.”
She tipped her head a little to the side and studied my face. “So … what night are you talking about? Because, honestly, that has happened so many times—”
“Our first anniversary,” I interrupted as I pulled out two tickets to the Shedd Aquarium.
Finally, I got a reaction I had been hoping for. She stood up and took the tickets from my hand, like she was checking to see if they were real.
For the first time in a long time, the chasm between us seemed a little smaller. It was only one moment. But it was real. And it was a place to start.
Three days later, Dad was doing much better. He spoke a little slower than usual but his wit was plenty quick. We knew he was going to be alright when the nurse asked him where she should put his lunch and he whispered in his dry, cracking voice, “How ’bout in the … toilet … where it belongs.”
I didn’t say much during dad’s stay in the hospital. I found myself watching my mom. She was never too far from his bedside. And there was this look in her eye—especially when dad was asleep. She really loved him, which I guess shouldn’t have shocked me since they’d been married for more than 40 years.
But I’d grown up in their home. I’d been there when voices had been heated. It was usually about money or mom’s brother, Darrell. One of them would storm off. A door or two would slam. Melissa and I would almost always find some excuse to leave the house. And we knew that in the morning, we’d see mom send dad off to work with a kiss and everything would seem to be back to normal—well at least until Uncle Darrell came around again.
As a teenager, I think I convinced myself that they just kind of tolerated each other. But now sitting in dad’s hospital room, I could see how wrong I was.
~~~~~~
“So are you going to be able to make it?” I asked Jenny over the phone.
” I, um … I thought he was doing better,” she said.
“Well, yeah.”
“He’s not dying, right?” Jenny continued.
“No, he’s gonna pull through. But I, umm …”
“I just don’t think I should spend the money for the flight if he’s doing fine.”
I paused for a few seconds. There was so much I wanted to say. But the right words seemed to scatter from my mind like a flock of startled pigeons.
“Jenny?” I finally said.
“Yeah.”
“I need to tell you something,” I began.
“Brian, let’s not do this over the—”
“Jenny,” I interrupted. “I know you probably can’t believe this right now. But … I still love you.”
I waited for her to say something—anything. But the phone was silent.
“Brian, what are you doing?” Jenny finally asked softly.
“I’m not doing … I want you to know … I don’t know. Just don’t give up on … me.” I cringed at my own clumsiness.
Jenny paused again. “Give up?”
“Can we talk when I get home?” I asked tentatively.
“Sure,” Jenny answered in a whisper.
The closer I got to the hospital the bigger the pit in my stomach grew. Something about the smell of antiseptic and the way people seemed to feel the need to whisper all the time made me physically uncomfortable. And thinking about seeing my dad laying there with tubes down his throat … it seemed more than I could take right now.
But I knew mom would need me. She had a way of overreacting that had always given us a good laugh. Though nothing was funny now. And I knew mom would be a bundle of the most horrendous “what if’s.”
Melissa had called on my cell phone somewhere south of Terre Haute. I was so grateful to hear her voice because I was getting very drowsy. We talked about flights and I gave her my credit card number. I worried that I would regret it later when the bill came. But for the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. Though I did allow myself one self-indulgent thought about my slacker brother-in-law.
Before I knew it, I was pulling into the parking lot of St. Mary’s Medical Center. I took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. My back was so stiff from the long drive that I took a moment to stretch it in the cool night air before heading into the hospital.
The lobby was virtually empty. A friendly looking lady sat behind the reception counter. I asked her for my father’s room number. She tapped quietly on her computer keyboard for a moment or two, then told me how to get to the intensive care unit. “You’ll have to ask the nurse at the desk in ICU for his specific room.”
I thanked her and headed for the elevators.
When I reached the ICU floor, the elevator doors slid open. I could see my mom directly down the hall at the nurse’s station. She turned and our eyes immediately met. I hurried down the hall toward her. She almost collapsed into my arms. I held her for a long time.
“Mom,” I finally said, “how is he doing?”
“We don’t know yet,” she sobbed.
“Have they told you anything?” I asked.
“They say they’re ‘hopeful’—but I don’t know what that means.”
I held mom for a few more minutes and then she walked me to his room. Mom was holding my arm and I could feel her grip tighten as we pushed the door open.
I looked at my dad. His eyes were closed and a tube was taped to the corner of his mouth. I swallowed and felt the tightness of my own throat. I stepped to his bedside. Dad’s hand was laying motionless on top of the blankets. I took his hand in mine. It was surprisingly warm. For a reason I could not explain, the warmth of his hand gave me a sudden reassurance.
I turned to Mom. “He’s gonna be OK. He’s a tough old bird, Mom. He’ll be alright.”
She gave me a half smile and stepped closer to the bed.
As I turned back to look at Dad, his hand gently squeezed mine.
I tapped my pen on the notepad. Jenny had been precisely right. That weekend at Ben and Stacy’s had terrified me. Jenny never came right out with it. But I felt an uneasiness that shot up my spine and felt like an icy grip on the back of my neck.
The grip tightened on the ride home.
“Can we stop talking about your nephews?” I snapped.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jenny shot back.
“Ahhg, it’s just that they wear me out and now the whole way home it’s like it’s all you want to talk about.”
“They wear you out! How? You didn’t spend more than five minutes with them the whole weekend.” Jenny’s voice quivered. I could see her eyes welling up.
“Hey, this weekend was your deal, remember? I wasn’t even supposed to come,” I responded smugly.
Jenny turned her face away from me. I could see her shoulders begin to shake.
“Jenny,” I said trying my best to be sympathetic, “I just wanted to talk about something else. That’s all.”
“You don’t get it,” Jenny said after a long pause.
“Don’t get what?”
It was well after midnight when I pulled into a rest stop. I had been thinking a lot about my dad. Especially about being a young boy. And in the middle of my memories of home came another memory. I pulled out my notepad.
#2. Listening but not hearing
“Hey, good news,” I said into my phone as I walked out of the office. “The Altius deal fell through which means we won’t have to hold all those meetings this weekend.”
“Is that OK? That the deal fell through?” Jenny asked.
“It was a mess. I’d been trying to show the partners that the whole company was way overvalued. But you know how it is when one partner gets too excited about a deal—there’s no talking them out of it.”
“Well, that just goes to show that you are the best analyst in the house,” Jenny quipped.
I remember thinking how great it was that Jenny understood enough about my job that she could appreciate what I do.
But while I was reveling in her pat on the back, she added, “Oh, Brian, that means you can come with me to Stacy and Ben’s for the weekend!”
Stacy is Jenny’s sister. She had two small boys at the time. Jenny utterly adores her nephews. But they always made me so uncomfortable. Snotty noses, loud, whining, screaming, crying. The thought of spending the weekend with them made my skin crawl.
“Um, yeah,” I said. “That’ll be fun.”
~~~~~~
Sunday afternoon, Jenny insisted that Stacy and Ben take off for a while. “You guys need some time alone. The boys will be fine.”
I plopped down in front of the TV and tried to find the Bears game.
Jenny sat on the floor in the other room playing a board game with the terrible two. I worried that she might call me to come join them. But thankfully, she seemed content without me.
During halftime of the football game, I went to the kitchen for a snack. I glanced in to see Jenny on the couch reading a picture book to both boys.
It was not too much later that Jenny came into the family room to join me. The younger boy was in her arms sound asleep. Carefully, she sat down on the couch next to me.
“Look at him, Brian,” she whispered. “Isn’t he angelic?”
I glanced down at him and was simply grateful for his silence. “Yeah, he’s great,” I said.
Jenny’s elbow gently prodded my ribs. “I can’t believe how terrified you are of kids,” she chided, seeing right through me.
“I’m not terrified of kids,” I said. “They’re just so … messy.”
Jenny laughed at me. “Oh, yeah,” she said sarcastically, “Mr. Neat Freak.”
“What do you mean? I am a neat freak,” I insisted.
Again, Jenny laughed at me. “Well, some messes are worth it,” she said as she leaned down and kissed her nephew’s forehead.
I felt the blood drain out of my head. I stumbled to the couch and