The apartment was in great condition, a renter’s dream. The stove and fridge were immaculate. Jan had seen to that, I’m sure. Her charging me only $70 for the pair was a true act of generosity. But this was a new beginning for me, so I decided to have a painting party, to make everything really fresh. All the decisions I was making at that time had to do with moving on with my life. I desperately needed a diversion from the past four weeks’ fallout from my one–day marriage. Deep down, I was still reeling from the shock of my discovery and then the wrench of my decision.
I bumped into Betty Sykes in Target the other day, and she made a point of cornering me in the housewares department. She’s a simple soul, brimming with curiosity, and I’m sure she wanted me to fill her in on the details that went into my breakup with David.
She didn’t use an ounce of diplomacy when she blurted out, “Gosh, that sure was a beautiful wedding you had! And that reception was so elegant! I had a great time. Of course it wasn’t the same kind of wedding that our people have, but it sure was a classy one. I know David’s mother didn’t like it. But that couldn’t have been why you left him the next day. Was it?”
I didn’t think it was any of her business, but this was the kind of conversation I had been exposed to for the past month.
I gave my standard response. “I guess David and I should have spent a little more time together before we got married.”
“Well, you know, Frannie, none of us even knew the two of you weren’t together anymore until about two weeks ago. Ted said that he bumped into David, who told him that he and Tina Sokol just got back from Las Vegas. I was shocked when I heard that. David and Tina were high school sweethearts, you know. She was even at your reception. And when Ted asked David what happened to you, he told him he dumped you the day after the wedding. When Ted asked him why, he told him you were as boring as your reception. And I told Ted that he couldn’t have found a nicer girl than you were. And do you know what Ted said?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Ted told me that if you two had stayed together, you would have lived to regret it. I know you didn’t know this, but David was seeing Tina and also another girl named Phyllis from his office while he was engaged to you. He wasn’t serious about Phyllis. She was an easy lay. That’s what Ted said. So, Ted was right, you are so much better off. Anyway, Fran, it’s been good talking to you. Stay in touch, you hear?” And Betty left the housewares department without waiting for a word of response from me.
I had been dealing with hurtful nonsense for the past four weeks, and I wondered if it would ever end. But I knew that yes, it would end eventually. If I had remained with David, there would have been no end to the pain.
Since I had requested extra work at the hospital to help pay off my abused credit card, I was assigned to the afternoon shift in the Emergency Room. Unfortunately, working Saturdays meant that I had only Sundays free to do any serious work on the apartment. But I did want the extra work at the hospital because I needed the extra money. There were no more perks of living at home to be enjoyed.
Yet here I was, stopping at Lowe’s after work, to buy paint, wallpaper, and all the supplies needed for my painting party. They were also having a great sale on their summer patio furniture. Fifty percent off. What a bargain! I’d be silly not to buy that table and four chairs and the beautiful coral–striped umbrella. I wanted something to sit on when I would go to that wonderful pond to have a drink and watch the ducks. There were also two black, wrought–iron benches there, but the umbrella table made much more sense to me. In the end, my shopping trip resulted in a pretty hefty bill, paid for with my already anemic credit card.
Preparing to move into the apartment was a godsend. It was the balm I needed to sooth my very hurt heart. My first order of business was the painting party. We had a blast: Dad, Jim Murray, Pat, Pat’s buddy Wanda, her fella Greg, and me. When we were done, the apartment looked fantastic. At the end of the day, Mom brought us a terrific spaghetti dinner, and everyone went home exhausted but full.
After the crew left, I poured myself a glass of milk, took my piece of the coconut cream pie Mom had made, and went down to the pond to sit, relax, and enjoy eating at my new umbrella table. The last bite of pie was as delicious as the first. I sat back and breathed in the cool evening air with a sigh of contentment. I was ready to enjoy the twilight. The remnants of the setting sun still lingered. I realized that these evenings would be getting shorter, and my time at the pond would be limited.
The back of the property was filled with trees that blended into the woods beyond, and the leaves were turning to glorious shades of gold and scarlet. As I sat there, I could not actually see or hear them as they drifted to the ground, but something in me sensed them falling as the earth was slowing down, preparing to sleep.
The ducks would soon be gone to a warmer climate. But that night, they were still out there, which I thought was unusual. I thought ducks went to bed when the other birds did. I watched them as they glided over to the bank in front of me, all lined up, just looking at me. It was as if they sensed something was going on in that place up there.
I had a thought and started to giggle. I don’t think this is what they meant when they said I should get all my ducks in a row, I said to myself, but there they are—nine of them, all lined up. But I wasn’t the one who had done that. How many ducks do I have to have in a row, I wondered, before I can say that now my life is in order? Because I have a feeling it’s going to take quite a while for me to make that happen.
I realized that was the first day I had felt any real happiness since leaving David. Maybe there was hope for me after all. Maybe I really did have my first few ducks in a row.
I do know happiness is very fleeting. But wasn’t it just a little over four weeks before that I had felt I was completely happy? How fickle happiness is! But I knew that this new place to call home and moving into it would be the new beginning I so desperately needed. The ducks on the pond seemed to be a good omen. For the first time in a month, I felt that life was going to be good again. I was going to move in the following Tuesday evening. Jim Murray and Dad would move me in. For the past week, I had been coming here to fill the cupboards and drawers with linens and my clothes. I had fully equipped the kitchen, and with the exception of my clothes, every item was one of my family’s wedding presents.
Exhausted as I was, I got up and went in to clean up the dessert mess and lock up.
The moving was done in the evening. Pat’s friend, Jim, came down from Cleveland in his pickup truck, and the first thing that arrived at the apartment was a Duncan Phyfe–style dining room set. It was gorgeous and a total surprise to me. Pat and Mom were at the apartment with me when Jim and Dad delivered it, and I was so excited and shocked. I said, “Wow, where did this come from?
Pat smiled. “Jim and I bought it for you for a house warming gift. We know how much you like to entertain.”
I hugged them both. “Oh my gosh, guys, I’m overwhelmed. Thank you, thank you! This must have cost a fortune.”
Jim said, “That is not for you to know. It’s for you to enjoy, Squirt.”
Jim Murray had been calling me Squirt since I was in high school, and I hated it. Today I didn’t even flinch.
Wanda and her fella with the pickup truck helped with the moving, and within two hours, the job was done. It was probably going to take me another month to get the boxes unpacked and the pictures hung. But for now, my bed was made, and that was all that mattered. I bid goodbye to another very exhausted group and once again headed for the pond. I seemed to be drawn there.
That night, I was really alone. I had never been alone before, and it felt strange. I guess I was supposed to feel like a grownup, but I didn’t. David was supposed to be sitting here with me. Not the one on my wedding day, but the one I had dreamed of living here with me.
I was overcome with deep sadness. All the activities that had led me to this day were diversions to keep me focused on moving forward. My mind has been filled with minute details to keep me from thinking about why I was moving into this apartment in the first place. It was supposed to be the first home for David and me after we married. For months before our wedding day, I had dreamed of living here with him. Now I was alone and exhausted. I finally had to put the exclamation point on. It’s all over! I shed a few tears and went to bed.
The following night I returned from work, fixed a light supper, and went to the pond. After I had eaten, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. Not just yet. I don’t know why I remained even after darkness moved in. There was no cloud cover, so the sky acted as a dim night light. I could feel a slight chill in the air, but my sweatshirt kept me warm enough to stay. I was on my own, but not really. The ducks were still out there, and I could feel them watching me. Perhaps they were waiting for me to go in before they left, but it puzzled me that they were staying out there so late.
It hit me all of a sudden that I had actually cut the apron strings and was now completely in charge of my own life. Oh, I was going to be just fine. Wasn’t I? Isn’t this what I had opted for when I left David? Wasn’t the alternative of having him as a husband far worse?
The ducks were how leaving for the night. They climbed up to dry land on the other side of the pond and trailed one after the other, quietly quacking, then disappeared into the woods. I wondered where they lived. Then I wondered if they were staying up because of me. I went to bed.
The following Monday on the way to work, I had a brainstorm and began planning a housewarming party. No gifts. I didn’t need or want anything else. I especially wanted Jan and her husband, Pat and her date (whoever that might be at the moment), Wanda and Greg, Vera, Kenny, and my friend Billy. I wanted to fill my apartment with all my friends. But then Mom reminded me that the apartment had been practically furnished with gifts that relatives had given, so the first party should be for them. She was right; I could always have another party for my friends later.
The invitations went out via word of mouth. With my family, that’s how it’s done. That meant I should expect sixty–five or more to show up. At least half of them were wondering if they could come in the afternoon because of previous commitments, but they were really were looking forward to seeing this beautiful apartment they had been hearing so much about. Those kinds of plans pleased me a lot. I loved my big family and was quite appreciative of the role they played after I left David. I was sure two weeks was enough time to empty those boxes and hang those pictures. I knew I had to hustle, but with the goal of a party in mind, I knew I could get the place in order.
The day of the party, Dad followed me over after Sunday church, and we started setting up card tables, folding chairs, and insect–repelling torches on the patio and down by the pond. The weather had been unusually warm for October, and I hoped it would stay that way for the day and evening. It did. Mom had sent all kinds of things to make the house look festive, but she wouldn’t be arriving until around 5:00. She was cooking two large pans of lasagna. Dinner would be at 6:00.
The finger food would be put out at 2:00 for the early arrivals. There were plenty of chips and dips, veggies, cheeses and crackers, nuts and chocolates. There was plenty of coffee and iced tea, and a big tub full of beer and soft drinks on ice was on the patio. Mom’s dinner menu was great. Along with her lasagna, she was bringing a large antipasto salad and garlic bread. I had made two Texas sheet cakes; each sheet served forty. That food with fixings would be set out at 6:00, self–serve, and one of the advantages of lasagna is that it stays hot for a long time. I knew my family and made sure there were playing cards set out for them to park themselves and begin playing.
More people came than we had expected; I counted seventy–two. But they arrived in shifts, and it all worked out. My mind had been consumed with these plans for two weeks, and I couldn’t have been happier with the results. Everyone seemed to enjoy the day and evening, and when it was finally over at about midnight, Mom, Dad, and Pat stayed to help me clean up. Before they left, I hugged them all and thanked them profusely.
Dad commented, “You do know your mom and I are just a phone call away if you ever need anything, sweetie.”
I knew they were missing me. Pat told me that the day we painted. I don’t know how I was so blessed as to have such parents. And I also knew I had not completely severed those apron strings.
Once they were gone, I collapsed into bed. I think I had only $100 left on my credit card, but it had been worth it. I didn’t know it then, but down the road, I would find there were to be no more parties for a very long time to come.
It was the following Tuesday evening after work that the shit hit the fan. I had just thrown together my dinner, such as it was, and headed for the pond. It was something I was in the habit of doing even if the weather was a little chilly. It didn’t matter. I would put on a sweater or light jacket, then head for the pond to eat and relax. Who knows? Maybe I was just trying to get my money’s worth out of the umbrella table. But this was all so new to me, still, and I enjoyed those ducks. Just being by the water, watching the sunset, filled me with such a sense of well–being. It was something I truly needed. I didn’t talk to the ducks as of yet, but there would come a time when they would become my closest companions and confidants. I knew the weather would soon interfere with my newfound pleasure, and the ducks would be gone. I was taking advantage of all of it for as long as possible.
On this particular Tuesday, after my house party, I had just finished eating my dinner when a car pulled around back. The woman who got out of the car made me shudder. It was Mrs. Kuspin, her formidable body barreling toward me. My kneejerk reaction was to stand up. She had a menacing look on her face, which ended about two feet from mine when she began her tirade. I could see a couple of hairs on her chin as I watched that mouth of hers go into action.
“Well, look at you, Miss Priss, sitting here like the Queen of the Fairies. Whatever made you think you had a right to be here in the first place? This is the apartment my son paid for when he thought the two of you would be living together. And when he brought the horrible news home after your honeymoon a few weeks ago, telling me you left him because you didn’t want to be married anymore, it broke my heart to see him hurting like that. It was lucky I found that letter from your landlady on the coffee table, telling him she was releasing him from any financial responsibilities because his ex–wife was taking over the lease. If I hadn’t found it, I wouldn’t know you were here. That was something he paid for, you little bitch. You’re nothing but a spoiled brat.
“David doesn’t know I’m here on his behalf, but I am. I want to collect what you owe him, and that’s not all. I want the money I paid for the stove you’re probably using in that apartment. And the last thing I have to say to you is this. It gives me great pleasure to call you a good–for–nothing, spoiled bitch. I would just love to push you in that water and hold—”
Mrs. K. had been so intent on spewing her venom at me that she hadn’t heard the other car pull in right after her. Dad quietly walked over to the pond just as she said she would like to push me in the water. Mom and Dad had been listening to her with the windows down the entire time. When Dad walked up to her, she was startled in mid–sentence.
His voice was very controlled and commanding. “Leave this property right now.”
She held her ground. “You have no right to talk to me like that. I am more entitled to be here than she is.” She jabbed her finger toward me, and the look on her face was one of pure hatred. “And when I do leave here, I am going to speak to the owner of this place and have her thrown out. You should be ashamed to have a daughter that has a wedding like she did, then decides she doesn’t want to be married. She is a disg—”
This time it wasn’t Dad that spoke. It was Mom. “Stop right there, you pompous ass. It isn’t my daughter you’re describing. It’s your son.”
I had never seen my mother confront anyone like that. I was standing there trembling, wanting to speak, but couldn’t find the courage for the words that were wanting to get out. But Mom’s voice was controlled and very commanding.
“In the first place, Mrs. Kuspin, even though your lying son led you to think he put the money down on this place, you are mistaken. Go to the landlady and humiliate yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Anne Kuspin jumped in. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I do. David brought me here to look at the place, asking for my approval before the wedding. The landlady was surprised that he was aware she was about to list the apartment, and he told her that his fiancée was a very close friend of her niece, Jan, who lived in the apartment. The landlady said her niece had told her about that connection, and since no one was home, she showed us the apartment. David liked it right away and told her he would take it. He said he would be in to sign the lease with his fiancée the next day. So that’s how I know he paid for it. I was there when he said he would take it and he promised to sign the lease. Also, before we left, she told my son he was charming and very handsome.” She said that with pride in her voice. “Then the next day, he said he was so happy to tell me he got that apartment, because it was such a great deal. So don’t tell me he didn’t pay for it.”
Mom went on. “Sorry to tell you that your son lied to you again, but here’s the biggest lie he told you. He wasn’t on a two–week honeymoon with my daughter; he was a two–week orgy with another woman. My daughter left him the day after the wedding, and lady, anything your son is feeling doesn’t come close to the broken heart my daughter has suffered.
“The very day Fran came home, the day after the wedding, she returned your stinking gift of a stove. She sent you not only the money for the stove, but her engagement ring and wedding band as well. Now I don’t know which one of your upstanding children got hold of that envelope with the money order and rings in it. Perhaps your precious David conspired with one of them to confiscate it as soon as it arrived in your mailbox. What I do know is, Fran told me David knew she was going to return that money. She told him in the note she left him the day she returned home.
“I will also remind you that all the money given as gifts by your family was in David’s possession. You’re the one who gave it to him. Fran had no idea how much that was. He didn’t bother to telI her. I don’t know, and I really don’t care, but if they were as miserly as you were, I’m sure it wasn’t much. My daughter has kept all the receipts from this rental. And by the way, your son was never present at the time Fran signed the lease. She loved your son and signed it in good faith for the two of them. She paid the security deposit and the first month’s rent.
“The stove was returned the day after her wedding when she came home, just as she told David she would do. And there’s a receipt for a money order with your name on it. Sue her if you are dumb enough to think it won’t end up costing you money. But before I ask you politely to leave, I just want you to know that you did get one thing right. Your son is handsome and charming.”
As Mom said that, I could see Mrs. K.’s lips puff up with pride.
Mom wasn’t done. “But if he thinks those two qualities will get him through life without problems, he is going to be sadly disappointed. Unfortunately, my daughter had to become one of the victims of that charm. Now get out of here, as my husband so nicely asked you to. And if there is any more harassment from you or your son, we will slap a restraining order on both of you so fast that you’ll think twice about ever doing anything like this again.”
Anne Kuspin spun on her heel and left.
I had to sit down. My legs would no longer support me.
“Mom, I’ve never seen you like this before! I had no idea you were capable of confronting someone like you just did. You never raised your voice before or even used any real cuss words. Wow!”
“Well, honey, when a mama bear sees her baby being threatened, she goes into action. That’s all I have to say. I think I’d better sit down now myself.”
Now that it was all over, the scene that had just taken place hit me in the gut, and I began to cry. It was an act of providence that Mom and Dad had come over to pick up all the items Dad had brought for my party, knowing I would have no place to store them. I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t shown up.
When my tears subsided, Dad said, “Look, sweetie, those ducks are all lined up, right here at the water’s edge!” Just as he said that, a few of them let out a few long, soft quacks and glided away. They had been witnesses to something they had probably never heard before: unkindness.
Before I moved in, I had been living with the ramifications of a very serious decision. Now all of that was supposed to be behind me. I had been trying hard to replace my anger and sense of injustice with a positive attitude. I could blame David for many things, but there was nothing he had done to me that I hadn’t allowed. I couldn’t play the blame game without pointing a finger at myself as well.
Unfortunately, after Mrs. Kuspin’s visit, my defenses were down. Her poison was powerful, and today, it had followed me here, to this beautiful apartment. I was devastated.
In the weeks and months to follow, the words, anger, and hatred that Mrs. Kuspin had spewed were going to become my purpose for living. I found that I could not just forgive and forget. The hours I spent at work offered me some distraction and respite, but anger and hatred were beginning to consume me. Before she had shown up, my reason for living had been to try to find new joy in my life, to leave the old hurts and injustices behind. But she had not only incited those other, negative feelings; she had added fuel to them. She had made it perfectly clear that my actions the day after my wedding could not be fixed by just returning gifts and overcoming gossip.
For as long as I could, I continued to take advantage of the umbrella table and the pond. The ducks and I acknowledged each other every day, and then one day they were gone. Thanksgiving was celebrated with family. It had been a most beautiful Indian summer and fall, but in November and December, bitterly cold winter took hold. Darkness came very early, and the pond froze over.
Without being cognizant of my changing, I slowly began to drift into a darkness of my own. I went through the motions of Christmas without the usual enthusiasm I had always had for the holidays. I didn’t attempt to decorate or entertain. I looked to my parents for providing all the festivities. I did go to Froggy’s on a Saturday evening with Wanda and Vera, and we exchanged gifts. There was no real spirit in me, but I tried my best to fake it.
Christmas had always been a joyful time for me, but now my heart was filled with self–recrimination. I could not forgive myself for having been so blind and naïve. Eventually, the dull ache in my heart was with me every waking moment. I prayed that God would take away the memories that haunted me day and night—especially at night. Still, along with all that I wanted to forget, I was left with deep love for David. I couldn’t seem to cut away that part of my memory. It had been so very real to me! The joy I had experienced when I’d first moved into this jewel of an apartment was now gone. David’s mother had taken that away from me by reminding me of the part I had played in a marriage that should never have taken place.
All these negative thoughts and feelings did not just descend on me overnight. They crept into my thoughts slowly and insidiously until they consumed me. Yet I still went to church with my parents every Sunday and stayed for dinner and pinochle later. When Wanda or any of my other friends called or stopped by, I talked to them endlessly, as though nothing was wrong. But looking back, I’m sure they must have suspected something was amiss. When they asked me to go to Froggy’s on Fridays, I always had the excuse that I had to work the next day.
When I came home from work, I was so tired I would eat, doze through the news or a TV show, and then drag myself off to bed. But I can’t say that all my sleep was restful. Mom recognized my fatigue, and she started doing my laundry when I went there on Sundays. When I was at work, I functioned well, because I was focused on my job. I liked what I was doing and felt proud of the extra money I was earning. It was when I went home that my thoughts overtook me. Basically, I functioned as though I were two people.
My reason for working that extra day every week was to pay down my credit card, especially since I had continued to add to the debt right after moving in. That part of my life was working. It seemed to be the only success I had managed to eke out of the past months. I was being really strict with myself. I spent no money on clothing or entertainment. My gasoline bill had been cut in half, and I no longer bought a lot of snack food when I went grocery shopping. If I could keep this up, my credit card would be paid off completely by the end of the year, 2009. This was now February. All I can say is, my credit card balance was healthier than I was.
When I knew Mom and Dad were coming over, I would rush around, trying to make the place look decent. They really didn’t come by that often, but that didn’t stop them from keeping close tabs on me. I could never complain about that. I knew I was blessed to have them, even though there were times I did feel a bit smothered. They urged me to go out with my friends more and have fun. Their urging me to cut back on my work hours was never–ending. Those pleas all fell on deaf ears, of course. My reasoning was totally irrational as far as they were concerned, but I thought it was quite sound. I felt guilty enough about all the heartache and financial loss I had caused them. I didn’t need to compound that guilt by adding runaway debt to my credit card.
My visit from Mrs. K. had been anything but pleasant, but there was one thing she did manage to get right. I had been quite spoiled by very well–meaning and loving parents. It was bad enough to carry guilt, but added to that was a laundry list of offenses I felt had been done me. I can say with certainty that those offenses had taken root in my soul, and they were beginning to fester.
Pat came by one Friday after work and insisted I take the next day off, so we could go out for lunch and do some shopping. I refused, telling her I had to work, that I always worked on Saturday.
She looked at me with great concern. “Frannie, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I think you need to seek help. I love you, honey, but lately, I don’t even know you.”
I dismissed what she said because I felt she just didn’t understand my situation, and I told her so.
After she left, I had a flash of insight. Pat had once told me that David was selfish, and I had responded to that comment by saying she didn’t understand. But here I was again, telling her the very same thing. Back then, I had even gotten angry at her for a few days. Unfortunately, she’d been right. Was she right again? Did I need help?
Even if I did, I could not admit that. Once again, her caring, insightful words had fallen on deaf ears. Talk about a willfully closed mind! Once again, I could not recognize the frantically waving red flags, just as I had ignored the ones that had waved time and again when I was going with David. This time, the flags were warning me not to bury anger and resentment in the graveyard of regret and allow them to take me with them. They were telling me to to bring everything into the sunlight of acknowledgement, so my resentment and anger could heal. Had I heeded my sister’s advice, I would have done that. Why did I always think I knew better?
I’m sure my change in behavior did not go unnoticed, but those at work, knowing my work ethic wasn’t suffering, felt I would snap out of this change of personality.
It was now late winter. March was a week away. I had gone to work completely exhausted when I experienced another emotional setback. I don’t why I call it a setback; at this point, I couldn’t get back much further. At least I didn’t think so. And I can’t say I didn’t ask for it when I went seeking answers to an incident that had occurred while I was dating David—answers which, according to David, I had accepted as true at the time.
It was a Wednesday, and I entered the hospital elevator to go to the fourth floor. It stopped at the second floor to pick up Doctor Raymond Raupple. We had been on a first–name basis since I had been in training and he was an intern.
He said, “Hi, Fran. Keeping all those hearts beating up there on Four?”
I laughed. “Well, I sure am trying. How about you, Ray? You doing your duty keeping the world populated?”
“Oh, I should say so. I delivered triplets at 5:00 this morning. I just came from breakfast, and I’m on my way to the fifth floor to check on my three little roosters and their mama.”
“All boys. Oh my gosh, are you going to pass out cigars with the daddy? Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Nora Wasco. A very pretty lady, I might add. Her husband is a good friend of mine, and I just might do that with him. My wife, Maggie, and I are going to be the godparents. I think I’m as proud as he is, so why shouldn’t I pass out cigars?”
As soon as he said that name, Wasco, he had my complete attention. “And just what is the father’s first name?” I asked.
“Alex, Alex Wasco. I’ve known Alex for years. We went through school together.”
The elevator doors opened and closed at the fourth floor. Ray said, “Isn’t this your floor?”
I nodded, “Yes, but I think I want to go up to see those triplets. By the way, do the Wascos by any chance happen to have a daughter, Elizabeth?”
“No way. Alex and Nora have only been married a little over a year, and this is his first wife. But they’ve been going together about three years. Alex and I go way back.”
“Do you know a guy by the name of David Kuspin?”
“Heck, yeah. I don’t know him as well as Alex, but we were all in the same class. I remember him as an arrogant ass. Why do you ask?” He stopped. “Uh–oh. Did I say something out of line?”
“Heavens, no. I am very curious about something, though.” The elevator doors opened again. We were now on Five. I persisted. “I know you’re busy, Ray, but before you go, there is one more question. Did you by any chance happen to go to the Orenick wedding about six or eight months ago?”
“I sure did. Both Alex and I are friends of theirs. Great wedding. Why do you ask?”
“Look, Ray, this is going to require a bit of your time. I know you’re anxious to get to those triplets, and I have to go to work. I’ll make an appointment with your receptionist, and then we’ll talk. There are some things I’d like to sort out, and I think you may have the answers. Would that be okay with you?”
“Absolutely. Just call Lucy; she’ll see you get in. Gotta run. See you soon, Fran.”
I made the appointment and got the answers. Not the answers I expected, but que sera, sera.
Ray said, “I remember that wedding very well. Alex and Nora, I, and my wife, Maggie, were at the bar celebrating their coming wedding in June. David came in and joined us. He sat down next to another friend of ours, a very sexy blonde named Tina. This was a wedding, so we knew at least half the people there. All six of us knew each other from school. I had ordered a round of drinks, and when David found out that Alex and Nora had just named the date for their wedding, he and Tina joined in a toast to their happiness. David had ordered a vodka on the rocks for himself, and I remember him saying he always drank vodka so no one could smell the alcohol on his breath—which was important, because he had to talk to clients all the time.
“The group talked back and forth, and I remember telling them about a patient I had seen that day, a little girl three years old. I was just heartsick, because we had given her parents a diagnosis of a brain tumor. The overwrought father had said that if anything happened to her, he would kill himself; life wouldn’t be worth living. When I was telling them that story, I mentioned no names, of course. I should probably never have said anything at all, but it was just such a heartbreaking scene at the hospital that afternoon that it was still sitting in the pit of my stomach. After that, the four of us went in to join the wedding. We all love to dance.” Ray’s final comment was, “David stayed with Tina. There was no question he was making out big time, and it was obvious that they already knew each other very, very well.”
Ray said he hoped he had answered all my questions. Then it was as though a light bulb went on in his head. He asked, “Fran, you aren’t by chance the woman who married David and left him the next day, are you?”
“One and the same, Ray. I was also at the Orenick wedding. I’m surprised I didn’t see you out on the dance floor. I won’t begin to tell you the fairy tale he told me after he left me sitting for over two hours, waiting for him to come back with our drinks. And guess what? I believed that fairy tale because I loved him and trusted him. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that love can be blind.”
“I’m so sorry he put you through that, Fran. You’re too good for that. What can I say? The guy’s a bastard! I heard the gossip, but I never heard who the woman was, only that she was a bitch. Of course, that gossip came from my side of town, not yours. And I also remember thinking, smart lady.”
Well, at least I had found true closure to what had been a very unsettling incident. I thanked Ray for being so forthcoming. He wished me well and said I deserved the best, and we parted.
That meeting with Ray was the catalyst that threw me into a river of torment. There were the things Betty Sykes had told me, then the venom Mrs. K. had spewed on me. Now Ray had revealed the complete betrayal of the man I had thought I loved. Blood–red rage was now washing all over me, and I felt I was going to explode.
Then one day I couldn’t get out of bed. It was all I could do to call my supervisor, Mary Walsh, to tell her I was sick. I asked to use all the sick leave I had accumulated for the past two and a half years. Since I had never missed a day’s work, I had ten days coming for the first two years. It was only February, but I wanted to use my five days for that year, too. She would give them all to me, but made it clear that I would have no sick days left for the rest of the year.
That would give me fifteen days of sick leave. I knew I would need more time than that to recover, and said, “I’m really sick. I’m sorry. I can’t go into the details now, but I’m going to need my vacation time as well. What I have is not going to go away in fifteen days.”
“With over forty days, what are you planning to do, go around the world looking for a cure?”
As weak and exhausted as I was, I laughed. “Heck no, Mary. That takes eighty days. I just feel overworked and physically exhausted. After I talk to you, I have to call Emergency and tell them to take me off their list, too.”
“Fran, don’t bother calling them. I’ll do that for you. I know exactly how you feel. I went down that road about nine years ago. I bet you couldn’t get out of bed, right?”
“Actually, Mary, I’m still in bed. The phone is right next to it.”
“Well, listen, Fran. Take care of yourself, and call if you have to have more time.” She wished me well and said she would look forward to seeing me in May.
I fell back on my pillow and fell asleep. I awoke that evening with a headache. Two aspirin tablets helped somewhat. I made myself a ham sandwich, then went back to bed.
In considering what to do, I followed the rule of first things first. With all the things I had on my plate right then, I didn’t need to worry about my credit card debt. It was probably much healthier than I was. I had eliminated that worry and no longer needed a Saturday job. As a nurse, I knew what was happening to me. I was suffering from physical and mental exhaustion, and my body was telling me that if I didn’t do something very soon, I would very likely have to deal with a complete breakdown of the nervous system.
For the first three days, I had difficulty getting out of bed and functioning. When I did get up, it was only for an hour or so, but on the fourth day of this malaise, I pushed myself and went grocery shopping to stockpile enough Ensure for a month, along with various staples, healthy fruits, vegetables, and juices. I went to the health food store and bought vitamins and other supplements. When I got home, I put the things needing refrigeration away and went to bed. I slept all night.
The next morning, I finished what I had begun the day before. I fixed myself a good breakfast, put the dishes in the sink, and sat down to draw up a regimen. I was to eat three nourishing meals a day, drink two Ensures each day, and exercise for one half hour every morning, either inside or outside the apartment—preferably walking in the woods, weather permitting. After lunch, I was to take a two–hour nap, then eat a hearty dinner sitting at the pond—again, weather permitting, because March was soon approaching. If I was at the pond, I would watch the sunset. I had to be in bed by 9:00. It was going to be first things first, and I had taken the first step toward building my physical strength and stamina back up. That morning, after I wrote down that regimen, I went back to bed. The plan was great, but it didn’t work like a charm.
There was no way I would be able to go to church with my parents the following Sunday. After my first week of hit and miss efforts toward following the regimen, I was looking at a sink filled with dirty dishes and no clean linens with which to change my dirty, sweaty bed. I knew I needed help. I finally called and told my folks about my condition. Of course, both parents wanted me to come home. Weak as I was, I absolutely put my foot down.
Mom said she would come to my apartment every day. It took all the energy I had to stand my ground. I told her that I appreciated her offer, but that I would only accept it one day a week. The rest of the time, I would fend for myself and stick to my regimen.
Mom relented. The best thing she did for me each day she came was to bring me enough of her own great frozen dinners for the week. She knew that fixing dinner would be a very difficult part of my regimen to keep up. Bouncing back was a slow process, but I was making progress. I was living in a clean house, eating a nourishing diet, and walking every day. My bed was changed regularly, and my laundry was done. My energy level grew day by day. I wanted to surprise Mom with all the things I was managing on my own.
Each week I was walking farther and doing more around the apartment. Mom was still coming and bringing those wonderful dinners of hers. I figured she liked what she saw but still wanted to help, so she was taking my laundry, which I was now picking up on Sundays. I was certainly appreciative of everything my mother did for me. I give her credit for nursing me back to health. But in all the time we were together, I never understood why I didn’t confide in her about my real problem.
After the fourth week of my physical breakdown, we were now in the third week of March. Mom was still coming on Fridays, then, but every day, I spent hours at the pond. That’s when the ducks came back. I had gone out for my daily walk and one day, there they were. As soon as they saw me, they immediately glided over to the shore, and I walked down to greet them. I was sorry to see there were only six, and I told them so. They listened very quietly and then swam to the middle of the pond.
This spring there were three pairs. All of them remained together as a group, but they were always paired off. I thought that was quite interesting and wondered if those other three ducks had found mates wherever they had been and had followed those mates.
I was at the pond every day, and the ducks always acknowledged my presence. I certainly acknowledged theirs. I talked to them constantly. They were great companions and my most trusted confidantes. I just loved those ducks. I remember looking up the diet of mallard ducks and was surprised to find that they really loved vegetables. They also liked birdseed and nuts. They seemed to keep the mosquito population down, so I gathered that they also liked bugs.
Another thing that truly gave me a thrill while I was surfing the net was learning that we were going to have some little ducklings very soon. After my discovery, I began to bring food for them down to the pond with me. I wanted all those new mamas to have healthy babies. I knew what nourishing food did for me.
Now, every time they saw me, not only did they swim over to me, but they ended up by my chair. They all vied for my attention, and some of them actually put their heads in my lap. Within the following three weeks, we ended up with seven little ducklings. Unfortunately, one must have died, because there were now only six following their mamas into the water. The ducklings had arrived right before Mom felt she could leave me on my own. I believe she enjoyed them as much as I did. Those fluffy little cuties were such a delight!
It was now the first of April, and I had three more weeks to gather my strength. In the past four weeks I had made tremendous progress, and I told Mom I felt I was strong enough to do things on my own. I promised her I would come on Sundays for church and dinner but couldn’t commit to playing cards. I felt that time would take care of that. She had relented shortly after the ducklings came, but she still stopped by with those frozen dinners. I felt so fortunate to have her in my life, and yet I still hadn’t confided in her. She thought my problem was the result of working too many hours for so long.
From the first day I couldn’t get out of bed, my goal had been to strengthen my body and build the stamina it would take to deal with those debilitating thoughts and emotions that were literally sucking the life out of me, the real culprits that had caused this state of exhaustion in the first place. Overwork had nothing to do with my state of mind.
The first day I stepped outside and smelled the fresh, nostalgic scent of a warm spring day, I felt a stirring and a longing in me that I hadn’t experienced for a very long time. I had been so lost, and I wanted my life back. I spent practically the entire day at the pond, because I knew that on Monday, I would be going back to work. Actually, work would be good for me. I loved my job as a nurse, and it kept me so busy that I didn’t have time to think about anything else.
I had spent the past eleven weeks getting my body back in excellent condition. I was excited to be seeing all my coworkers again, especially Jan. She had been the only one to come visit me while I was recovering, because she was the only one who knew why I was gone. But she, too, thought I only suffered from physical exhaustion.
I knew I was ready to face the world again, but I was not yet ready to become a part of it. Before I could do that, I was going to have to face my demons and find out what Francine Louise Carter was all about.
When I got home from work after that first day back, I fixed a plate of good food for myself and the ducks and went out to sit at the umbrella table. I took in deep gulps of spring air. Everything smelled so fresh and clean. I was desperately looking for some sort of relief. I watched the tiny, bright green leaves on their long, slender branches brush across the water. I listened to the rustling of the leaves; they seemed to be singing a soft, sweet melody just for me.
As the days passed, I began to savor that air and take in slower, deeper breaths. I could feel the rhythm of all nature surrounding me. I actually smelled the fresh water of a spring– fed pond mingling with the many other fragrances that drifted with the breezes and caressed my senses. It was all so delectable that I could almost taste it. I listened to the birdsong for hours, sometimes until the birds grew still, just before sunset. If I remained, I could hear the mating calls of frogs as the crickets fiddled away. The healing effect nature had on my nervous system was amazing. I found such peace there. Soon my sleep became deeper, and I awoke completely rested.
As fall progressed, I continued my evening retreat, but now I wore a sweater. The days became shorter and the breezes crisper. The birdsong lessened. The duck families were no longer there, and the sound of locusts penetrated the air. I sat at that table soaking it all up, letting the earth’s changes wash over me and through me. And, as I listened to the mantra of those locusts reaching to the heavens, I felt God’s presence. It was everywhere and almost palpable. Although I am not a Buddhist, I called this place my Nirvana. It brought me the peace and contentment I so desperately needed.
If the spring, summer, and fall had taught me anything, it was to establish roots, deep roots—not much different than all the nature that surrounded me. These roots anchored me to a purpose in life. They seemed to wash the negative thoughts and resentments away, although not completely. I was planted, but I still had a lot of growing to do.
The long winter months taught me how I was to grow so I could bloom. I spent long, cold evenings by a crackling fire, reading books that could inspire me and instruct me in the art of introspection.
I thought a lot about my relationship with my parents. I love them deeply, but now I realized that they had tried too hard to protect me from the harsh realities of life. They’d always wanted to see me happy. Who could find fault with that? But I needed to face life head on. I needed to be able to speak up for myself.
Now I was learning the art of real communication—not just how to relay information to others, but how to be up front about how I feel, what I want, what I think, and what I need. I have always been a good listener, but I would never confront anyone to demand the respect I deserved for my input, needs, and feelings. I had always been able to express an opinion as long as no one opposed it. If someone did, I always caved. I always made excuses or found reasons for why other people did what they did. I guess I thought I had the gift of understanding, but I discovered that I was actually an enabler. Understanding is one thing, but excusing bad behavior is another. I also realized that I was an emotional coward. I wanted no backlash from anything I did or said.
Through those long walks in the woods when the earth slept peacefully under a blanket of dead leaves and snow, I was beginning to discover who Fran Carter really was. On those long winter nights when the fire burned slowly down to embers, it was hard to learn just how little I did know about myself. Introspection can be very daunting. It’s easier to find fault with another than to discover the faults in oneself.
In the beginning, I took the baby steps needed to slowly draw myself out of my deep depression. Then, by the end of what had been almost two years, I felt I had made real headway. I felt that I now knew how to “bloom where I was planted.” I had found forgiveness for David and his mother because I now had dominion over my own life. I forgave myself for allowing others to have power over me. Best of all, I discovered that when a problem is addressed immediately, no confrontation is needed in most cases. Still, there may be an occasion when real confrontation is necessary. Differences must be addressed head on, with honesty and without malice. I must add it took a heck of a lot of gardening for me to bloom, and I know it will take constant care to keep that bloom vibrant.
Not quite two years have passed since my marriage to David. It’s now June 2010. Hard to believe. I think I’ve paid my dues for the decision I made. I have no idea what kind of life David has had, although I have been told a few things from time to time. But other than the revelation Doc Ray gave me, I prefer not to be told. It’s too painful.
I’ve decided to get back into the mainstream of life; I’ve been burying myself in work and self–discovery long enough. I no longer spend my days feeling out of sync with everything. And the really good part is, I no longer think of David every day. There’s still an occasional night when I dream of him, but fortunately, those dreams are very rare, now. David was my first love. I don’t suppose that memory will ever go away, but that is all I can ever allow it to be: a memory that will sometimes leave me with a sort of David hangover, which causes me to think of him all day. When that happens, I’m always happy to see the next day.
Toward the end of that winter, I told Wanda what had been going on in my life. She couldn’t have been more understanding, and I knew that anything she repeated to the rest of our crowd would be tactfully said.
We kept in touch this entire past winter, and now, on the brink of summer, I’ve told her I’m ready to face the world again. We made a date to go out on Friday with Vera. They both suggested Froggy’s, and I couldn’t be happier.
It’s always bothered me, though, that I never could confide in my mother about all the miserable details leading up to my breakdown. I’m not really sure why, as we’ve always been so close. But knowing my mother, if I told her that everything leading up to the breakdown was caused by my inability to confront situations, she would feel she had failed me as a parent. I love my mother so much! I have created enough chaos, and she is now at peace with the fact that I have overcome my trials. I think it best to leave it at that.