Coffee. That was the only place to start. Ella would figure out the rest later. Today was her day off and she would clean up the mess of her apartment and then go find her own lawyer. She would go get a hellcat lawyer, and maybe even move into the house. Or … she flopped back into bed … or “take to the bed” as her mom used to say.
Downstairs a door slammed and Bruiser began his frenzied barking. It faded slowly as, Ella knew, Mimi was trying to take him outside, seeing if a walk would calm him down. Ella did nothing but stare at her surroundings as if taking them into account, solidifying her place in the world. Outside her window, ivy crawled and tangled its way across the bottom of the window frame, as if trying to peek into her apartment. A crack, thin as hair, maneuvered its way from the top of her wall down to the floorboards, spawning new cracks before moving on.
Even coffee seemed too big an effort, but she rose and went to the sink. Nothing would change if she didn’t change. She’d read that in one of the many books stacked on the side of her bed. She needed to return them to the library before she got a late fine. When she’d checked them out, a pyramid of self-help I’ve-been-ditched books, the librarian had given her that look, the one Ella hated: I’m so sorry. Poor, poor you.
The coffee was too hot and it singed the roof of her mouth, a scorched feeling that didn’t improve her mood. All her good intentions for the day faded into gray. She lifted the remote from the chair and sank into the cushions, clicked on for the TV and off for her mind.
The TV droned on, and beautiful people flashed on and off the screen, a montage of life so perfect that it seemed like science fiction. Get up, she told herself. Do something.
Now E! News was on and her cell phone was buzzing across the room and finally, with her coffee cold and only half drunk, she rose from the chair to answer it: Amber.
She pushed decline and looked at the missed messages. Sims had called twice. Her eyes opened wider, like someone had pulled up on her eyelids, quivering. All those times she’d frantically checked her phone every five minutes and here he was calling and she’d been ignoring him for the TV. Well, good, let him worry why she wasn’t answering.
He answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Amber and I have both been trying to call you and you’re never without your phone and…”
“I’m super busy,” she said. “What do you need?”
“I … want to talk. Can you talk?”
“Talk?”
“Yes. Like see you and talk. Try to have a real conversation about all of this mess.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ve told me everything I need to know. You’re in love. You want a divorce. What else is there to talk about?”
“Ella. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Can I come over?”
“Here? You sure you want to lower yourself to my level?” She wanted him back. She loved him, so she took a long moment and then said, “Sims, I’m sorry. It’s coming out wrong. If you want to come here to talk, that’s fine.”
“Well, I’m outside so I’ll be up in a minute.”
“You’re outside?”
“Yes,” he said. “Outside.”
“Give me ten,” she said. “I’ve been … Stuff is everywhere.”
“I don’t care about that.”
Ella saw herself through Sims’s eyes. Messy hair. Dark circles under her eyes. Yesterday’s clothes. Hell, yesterday’s makeup. There wasn’t time for the whole routine—cleanse, tone, moisturize, and tint. A quick swipe of mascara and a brush through her hair would have to do.
He stood there in the hallway, her husband of seven years. He held his hands behind his back and waited to be invited in. She didn’t say a word.
“Oh, Ella,” he said.
She stepped aside to let him in. Her throat held the tears she wanted to cry.
“Yes?” she asked, hiding her need.
“I can’t believe you’re living here. Why—”
“Because you’ve locked me out.”
“I just thought you’d go to your dad’s while we worked things out. Why didn’t you?”
“I can’t. I can’t go there.”
Below their feet the barking started. “What the hell?”
“That’s Bruiser. He’s my neighbor’s dog. He’s kind of cute.”
“That is not cute.” He pointed to the floor. “That is hell.”
“Sometimes,” she said as a smile moved across her face. “But if you knew Mimi you would have some sympathy.”
He laughed. God, how she missed that laugh. “Figures you’d make friends,” he said.
“Actually I went there to tell her what a nuisance the dog was and then…”
“And then you were friends. That’s so you.”
“Is it?” she asked.
“Yes,” Sims said with affection. “You’re the kindest person I know.” He smiled at her and motioned to the kitchen. “Do you have any coffee?”
“Sure.” She stopped. “Wait.” She spun around. “Why are you here?”
“I miss you,” he said.
“You miss me?” she repeated. He might as well have been talking in another language.
“I know. It’s confusing. I’ve spent the past weeks so mad at you. I mean, what you did—”
“What I did?”
“The baseball cards. It was like you turned into a crazy person.”
“Can we go back to why I did that? From what I remember, you told me that you were in love with my best friend’s sister and you wanted—”
“I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to find a way to get through it. But you went crazy.”
“Yes. Crazy.” Ella rolled her eyes. “Sims, you broke my heart. I didn’t know what to do. I came undone. Who wouldn’t? But you can’t say we aren’t together because I threw a few baseball cards in the Dumpster.”
“A few baseball cards?”
“I know. I know. John Smoltz. I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“I don’t think you get it,” Ella said, and took two steps away from the kitchen, away from getting him the coffee he asked for. “I don’t think you get it at all.”
Sims’s eyes welled up. Was he crying?
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I messed up, Ella. I don’t know how to fix this. I hurt you. I am so sorry. And now it’s like you aren’t even you. You hate me. I’ve never seen you like this.” He reached to hug her. She let him.
His arms were strong around her. She closed her eyes and allowed his warmth to soak into all the lonely places. Finally she stepped back. “Tell me, Sims. What is it? What do you need?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused, Ella.”
“Confused about what?”
“I think I made a mistake.”
“A mistake? In like you don’t really love Betsy? That she isn’t the love of your life?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“That’s how I heard it, Sims. Love of your life. I’m only repeating.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not like that. She’s not. I do love her, or it feels like it. But you—”
“Me?”
“I still love you, Ella. I do. I’m such a mess. We’re a family. You’ve always been my home.”
“Listen, Sims. Why don’t you go get your head together and then tell me what you want? I can’t be with you if you’re in love with Betsy. I can’t.”
“I know. But can we slow down on the divorce proceedings though? Don’t go to the lawyer today.”
“No. I’m going today.” Why didn’t she agree to the one thing she wanted—to slow it all down? She had no idea.
“I’ll pay for a nicer apartment if you want one. I can’t stand to think of you living here.”
“No.” She felt outside her body now, watching all of this unfold. “I want to move back home. That’s all I want.”
“I guess we could do something like week on, week off while we try to figure out what we’re … what we’re doing.”
“You mean, whether we are getting divorced or not?”
“I hate that word. I can’t stand to think of us as that.”
“Sims, you are acting like I left you. Like I was the one who ran away. And you’re telling me that you’re confused.”
“I know.” He sat in the sole chair and dropped his head into his hands. “Who is the guy I saw you with at the Patio? Same guy Billy saw you with at Sunset?”
“Seriously?”
“Amber said his name was Hunter Adderman and that he was from California, writing a history book or some shit like that. But I looked him up, Ella. There is no such person or such writer.”
“That’s what this is about? Hunter?”
He looked up and in the dim light she saw how tired he was, the way his eyes were half-lidded, the stubble on his chin, the dry lips. “No, it’s not just about that. It’s about how I’ve ruined everything.”
Suddenly she was exhausted. She didn’t want to placate him. How on earth could he expect her to make him feel better when she didn’t even know how to make herself feel better? How could he think that he even deserved to feel better? “Sims, it’s probably best if you leave now. I have so much work to do.”
“I thought today was your day off.”
“It is, but I’m doing other … things.”
He stood and looked at the pile of sketches on the warped table. “These are really good, Ella. But I’ve always told you that.”
Now she wanted to tell him everything. All there was to know about her life and how she’d missed him, how she’d fantasized about his return, how she needed him back. But she didn’t. She had to bide her time, make him want it. Don’t give in too early or too easily.
He looked up at her. “So, you won’t go see a lawyer today?”
She saw the gap in time, the slim moment she had. “No, but I want to move back in today.”
He stared at her and she trembled inside with the need to fill the silence, to drop words and explanations in the space where he decided what to do. “Is tomorrow okay? Starting tomorrow we will do week on, week off while we try to figure out what to do.”
“Okay,” she said. “But what does ‘figure out what to do’ mean?”
“I don’t know. But I know I’m not ready to start dividing things and signing forms. Are you?”
“No,” she said quietly. “No, I’m not.”
“Okay…”
“Wait!” She looked up. “Are you still with Betsy? I mean, are you still together? Like when I’m not at the house, will she be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I just don’t. I’m confused and I’m trying to work it out so we can find a way to fix this.”
Ella held up her hand. “Stop. You’re serious, aren’t you? You want me to stand here and wait while you try to decide whom you love best? Do you have a scale you’re using to weigh us?”
“It’s nothing like that, Ella.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“What do you want, Sims?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Ella. Can’t you see that?”
She stepped toward the door. “This is absurd. You come here to tell me you love me and miss me but you’re going back to Betsy also? You’re not just confused, you’re ridiculous.”
“You are twisting my words. I’m here to say I love you, and I’m sorry.”
“And you’re confused. I heard that part loud and clear, too, Sims. I’m learning, slowly, I guess, that I can’t just hear the parts I want to hear.”
“I guess I should go.” He glanced toward the bed and she knew what he wanted. She knew what she wanted. But she would deny them both for the long run. For the good, for later. For the real reconciliation.
“Yes,” she said, “you should go.” She opened the front door.
He walked toward it and then turned to her. “I never got that coffee.”
“No, I guess you didn’t.”
She shut the door quickly, before she made him that cup of coffee, before she took him to the bed and reminded him of all they were together.
If she’d known all it would take was seeing her with another man, she would have hired someone a month ago. Her heart picked up its pace. She stood to the side of her window and looked out to watch him walk away. He pulled out his cell phone to call someone. Probably Betsy. Would she ever, even if she could reconcile, would she ever not think about every phone call he made? Every moment he couldn’t account for his whereabouts? Was trust destroyed for good?
Sims stood there outside her window, alone. It took everything in her not to run down and beg him back, tell him she loved him and only him and to please leave Betsy. Hope, it was a powerful thing.