Sixteen

Virtue sat in the corner booth nervously rubbing her hands together and wondering how she’d allowed herself to be suckered into such a thing. Even when she was a child, she had never succumbed to dares in order to prove herself. But someway, somehow, she had been scammed into doing it today.

“This is stupid,” she said, suddenly standing.

“Sit down, Virtue!” Beverly whispered harshly. It was the second time in less than half an hour that she had had to take on the tone of a chastising mother in order to prevent Virtue from abandoning her at Piatto Ristorante, one of Houston’s contemporary Italian restaurants. “You have come this far, and I’m not going to let you throw your progress away. He’ll be here anytime now, and you’re not going to have him come all this way only to find that you’ve bailed out.”

“I didn’t have him come anywhere, Beverly; you did. You never should have called him.”

“Don’t you even try to pin this on me,” Beverly scolded. “It’s not like I didn’t clear it with you first.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight, and you know it,” Virtue defended. “Now that I am, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Sit!”

This time the order came from between clenched teeth, and with reluctance, Virtue complied. Tears welled in the backs of her eyes, and she fought with everything inside of her not to let them overflow.

“I know this isn’t easy for you, honey, but you’re doing the right thing.” Beverly’s tone had softened, and she reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Virtue’s. “That’s why we got here so early, so you could have the extra time to get yourself together. I told you I would help you through this, and I will. Okay?”

Virtue nodded, but she didn’t feel the confidence that she needed. Two days ago she’d been sitting right beside Beverly when she made the call to Mitchell’s office and set up the Saturday meeting. It was obvious that Mitchell had been surprised to get the call, but it was even more apparent that Beverly had been happy to make it. Virtue had sat quietly and listened while all the plans were made. Flights were more expensive during the Christmas season, but he’d said that he’d rather pay the elevated ticket price than make the long drive.

The meeting among the three of them had been set for eleven thirty. Virtue glanced at her watch and noted that there were at least ten minutes of agonizing waiting left. And if he was the same Mitchell she’d married, they could easily add fifteen more minutes to that. She remembered Mitchell as being a man who ran late for everything. The only time he’d been early for any important appointment was on the day of their wedding. Mitchell had gotten to the church an hour before the scheduled time. He’d told Virtue that the day was too important for him not to have been there. He said the knowledge that he’d be walking away from the wedding with her on his arm was all the incentive he needed.

“Good morning.”

Both Virtue and Beverly flinched in their seats. Neither one of them had noticed Mitchell’s approach, and both of them were unprepared for his early arrival. Virtue turned her head away and used her unrestricted hand to dab at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to erase the tears that had begun pooling. Beverly pulled her hand from on top of Virtue’s and slowly stood. Virtue heard the exchange between the two as they made their initial introductions, but she couldn’t get herself to look directly at them.

“Hi.” Mitchell’s voice was softer than Virtue remembered. He almost sounded apprehensive as he spoke. “Mitchell Andrews.”

“Nice to meet you, Mitchell,” Beverly responded. “I’m Beverly Oliver.”

“The pleasure is mine. Thank you for calling and setting this up. I mean that.”

“I hope your plane ride was good.”

“It was uneventful,” Mitchell said. “That’s always a good thing.”

“I agree.”

As the talking subsided, Virtue’s insides quivered. It had been traumatic enough seeing Mitchell for that brief moment in Dallas. Now he stood within arm’s reach of her, making small talk with her closest friend as if all were right with the world. The moisture inside Virtue’s mouth evaporated, and her tongue adhered to the top of it. Her lips began to feel as though they were becoming parched and cracked. It was a feeling like none she’d ever experienced before.

“Excuse me,” Beverly said.

Mitchell took a step back and gave Beverly the additional space she needed to move from the side of the booth where she’d been sitting and to relocate so that she would be sitting beside Virtue. She literally had to force Virtue over in the seat to make room for her wide hips.

“Please sit,” Beverly offered, pointing to the opposite side that she’d just vacated.

“Virtue . . . thank you for meeting me.” Mitchell said the words to her as soon as he sat, but Virtue had no words for him.

The first few moments were awkward, to say the least. Nobody spoke, and any noise that could be heard came from the tables nearest them. The thick layer of tension was only cracked when the waitress approached to take their orders. Beverly gave her order, but when it was Virtue’s turn, she sat in the same position she’d been in since Mitchell’s arrival—her eyes glued to the menu. She didn’t even acknowledge the server’s presence. Beverly nudged her, but Virtue’s only response was the release of a soft gasp accompanied by a lone tear.

“Bring her the Piatto Chicken,” Mitchell said, drawing the waitress’s baffled stare away from his ex-wife. “As a matter of fact, make that two orders of Piatto Chicken with the lemon butter sauce on the side, please. Also, bring the lady a cup of hot chocolate, with marshmallows if you have it. A cup of hot water will be fine for me. Thank you.”

“I’ll bring those out for you in a moment.” The waitress tossed Virtue one last look of bewilderment and then left the three of them alone once more.

Mitchell still knew her well, and Virtue was uneasy with having to admit that truth to herself. Seafood had always been her favorite, but when they’d been together, they had dined Italian often. Mitchell couldn’t have known that the specialized grilled chicken dish was what she’d had her mind set on ordering, yet he’d ordered it on her behalf without even being given a hint. Virtue was left a bit confused by his request for hot water, but she hadn’t overlooked the fact that he remembered her favorite hot beverage. With all of that, she still never took her eyes from the table in front of her.

“It’s okay, Virtue,” Beverly said as she placed a comforting arm around her friend.

Virtue wanted to look in her mentor’s eyes for additional confirmation, but she couldn’t. If she brought her eyes up from the table, she’d not only see Beverly, but she’d be forced to look at Mitchell as well. She wasn’t ready to do that. The persistent quiet was getting to be too much to suffer, though. Virtue was just about to pick up her purse and demand that Beverly let her out of the booth when Mitchell spoke.

“I’m sorry, Virtue.”

Her body tensed at the words that Beverly had presumed he’d say. Those were the words, Virtue had been told on more than one occasion, that would give her closure and at the same time allow Mitchell the reprieve he needed in order to move forward. They were the words that would set him free, the words that would allow her to release him. Another tear dropped from her eyes onto the table.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mitchell told her. “Just let me talk. Let me get this off of my chest, and I promise I’ll never impose on you again.”

Virtue shifted her eyes for the first time since Mitchell had taken the seat across from her. Her stare traveled from the table to Beverly’s hand, which rested a few inches from Virtue’s original focus point. Her own hands were locked together in her lap, and Virtue squeezed her fingers together, hurting her hands as she tightened her hold. Mitchell spoke again.

“I don’t deserve anything from you, but there are some things that I need to say, things that I desperately need you to hear, so I thank you for being here. I know it wasn’t an easy decision.”

Virtue’s body felt cemented in its position. She was grateful for the napkin that Beverly used to absorb the tears that continued to stream from her eyes. More would be spilling soon, but for the moment Virtue was able to see the table more clearly.

“I made a mistake,” Mitchell said and then quickly corrected himself. “Two mistakes. When I finally owned up to my problems, I sought help for both my drinking and my anger. During my therapy, I was told that many times the victims in situations like ours blame themselves in some way for what happened. I’m not saying that you blamed yourself for anything, but if you do or if you ever did, I need you to know that none of what happened was your fault.”

Oh, I know it wasn’t my fault. If you think I’ve blamed myself in any of this, you couldn’t be more wrong! That was what her insides screamed, but Virtue knew that she couldn’t voice it. Not with Beverly, the woman who had been her counselor for a year, sitting right beside her. Virtue had told Beverly everything; and even now, as her former therapist nodded her head at Mitchell’s words, she’d already given Virtue’s one-time sense of guilt away.

Their waitress returned, bringing with her three plates of food that teased the nostrils. As delicious as it smelled and as hungry as she was, Virtue knew that she wouldn’t be able to eat hers. Her stomach had begun tying itself in knots the moment Mitchell joined them at the table, and it hadn’t stopped since.

Carefully balancing the large round tray in one hand, the waitress used the other to distribute the dinners and beverages to their owners. After she’d successfully dispersed the meals, the waitress tucked the tray under her arm and looked at each of them.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“You can go ahead and bring us a couple of carryout boxes,” Mitchell said. “I doubt we’ll be able to eat all of this.”

Virtue blinked. He’d read her thoughts again.

“So, three carryout boxes, then?” the waitress offered.

“Oh, uh-uh, honey,” Beverly said, shaking her head for emphasis. “Just bring boxes for the two of them. There won’t be nothing left on my plate to carry nowhere.”

Virtue didn’t look up, but she heard Mitchell release a soft laugh. Imagining the expression on Beverly’s face as she spoke to the server, Virtue probably would have laughed too. But just like the knots in her stomach wouldn’t allow anything in, they also wouldn’t allow anything out. She continued her silence while Mitchell reached across the table and beckoned for Beverly’s hand. Beverly didn’t hesitate, and in turn, she placed her unoccupied hand on top of Virtue’s.

In the entire three years that they’d been married, Virtue couldn’t recall one time when Mitchell had graced his food. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever seen him pray in any form. She was astonished that he so freely did it in an open place such as this. When the blessing ended, Beverly wasted little time cutting into her steak. In a way, Virtue felt betrayed. The comforting arm that had been around her for the duration of Mitchell’s spiel had now left her to help feed its owner a ribeye. Virtue made no attempt to eat, and neither did Mitchell. But Beverly didn’t seem affected by their decisions.

“You never deserved it, Virtue,” Mitchell said while retrieving a packet of apple cider mix from his pocket and emptying it in his cup. “All you ever were to me was good. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife, and I certainly couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful one.”

His latest words caused Beverly to pause from her meal but not for long. The words had a different effect on Virtue. The skipping of her heart irritated her. As far as she was concerned, nothing Mitchell said should affect her in a positive manner. She knew she had been good to him. She didn’t need him to validate what kind of wife she’d been.

“I know none of what I say means much to you now,” he said. “But it means a lot to me that you’ll allow me say it. I loved you, Virtue. I still . . .”

Everything seemed to be placed on pause. Mitchell stopped his sentence. Beverly stopped in the middle of her newest cut. Virtue’s heart stopped . . . but ironically she could still feel it pounding in her ears. When Mitchell spoke again, he’d chosen to leave his last thought dangling.

“Seven years is a long time. Every Christmas I think of another year that my stupidity cost me. Now here it is again. Christmas is just days away. Our tenth anniversary, or what would have been, is just days away. And instead of being able to celebrate it the way I should have, I’m forced to once again look the man I used to be right in the eye and see what a fool he was.”

Beverly finally began eating again, but her movements had become slower. She had managed to keep her feelings to herself, but Virtue knew that as soon as they were alone, Beverly would have a lot to say. Probably more than she wanted to hear.

“I need you to know that I’m not that man anymore, Virtue,” Mitchell continued. “I’m sorry for everything he did to you. For those two years of having to hear him rant and rave about things that didn’t make sense. For the curses that he yelled at you and for the times that he told you that you would never succeed as a dancer. For the day he even thought in his drunken mind to draw back his hand to hit you . . .”

The steadiness in Mitchell’s voice broke, and for the first time Virtue was tempted to look up at him. Maybe she just wanted to see if the genuineness that saturated his voice showed any signs of itself in his eyes. She didn’t know the reason, but she now struggled to keep her eyes staring at the table. Mitchell cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his emotions in check, and then he spoke again.

“I’m sorry for everything he did to you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “For what it’s worth, I’ve been clean for quite a while—three years, actually. Betty Ford opened my eyes, but it was God who gave me the sight to see.”

Virtue looked out the corner of her eye and saw Beverly place her knife and fork on her plate. She’d lost interest in her food just as the waitress brought the requested carry-out boxes. Noting that neither Mitchell nor Virtue had touched their food, the woman became concerned.

“Was everything all right with your meals?”

“The meals are fine,” Mitchell answered, tossing her a look of appreciation. “We just decided to take them with us, that’s all.”

“All right then,” she replied with a satisfied smile. “Will these be on separate checks?”

“No,” Mitchell said, overriding Beverly’s nod. “A single check is fine.”

Once the waitress was gone again, Mitchell slid his plate to the side and used the empty space in front of him as a prop for his elbows. “As much as I know that God has forgiven me, I wanted to ask your forgiveness too, Virtue. You don’t have to answer me now. You don’t have to answer me ever. But I needed you to know that I am sorry and that I’d take it all back if I could. If you don’t find it in your heart to forgive me, I can’t exactly say that I blame you. But I hope that you can see beyond the man who hurt you and see the sincerity in the man sitting across from you now. I promise you, they’re not the same people.”