Suzanne’s face was void of emotion—as if she was being told the sun was the moon and the moon was Mars. Then she started to laugh. And laugh.
“Oh, Charlie, that is so funny. I’m sure Mark didn’t find it funny, but—oh, my God! You really did it?”
My laugh was slow to come. My smile grew only because I thought she was overreacting. “Mark doesn’t know yet.”
Then she laughed even harder, almost choking.
She wiped at the corners of her eyes, her laughter slowing and then speeding back up. “I can’t, I can’t stop laughing. I’m sorry. I know it’s not that funny.”
“I didn’t intend to quit. I just wanted to take some additional time off to go work the events for the next two months.”
“You couldn’t have possibly imagined that Richard would be okay with that. You’re a vice president.”
I looked into my iced tea and stirred the spoon around and around, making little vortices. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
When I looked up, Suzanne was looking at me in wonder. Softly she said, “That took a lot of courage, Charlie.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Or I’m really stupid.”
“You can do anything now. And you’re talented. Who knows, you could start your own marketing firm. Be a consultant.”
Our lunch was delivered, and we both took a few bites before continuing our conversation.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.” I waited until she put her fork down. My heart was racing like a jackrabbit.
She looked at me with concern. “Are you dying? Is that what this is about?”
I chuckled. “No.” Her seriousness helped me relax, so I jumped in. “I’m leaving Mark.”
Her eyes bored into mine, assessing whether I was serious or not. Calmly, she asked, “Have you told him?”
“No.”
We stared at each other. I fidgeted with the napkin on my lap, and she spun her wine glass between her fingers.
“Are you sure about this, Charlie?”
“Yes.”
A few more moments of silence stretched between us.
Then she said softly (her laughter gone), “I was always kind of jealous of you.”
My eyes opened wider in surprise. “Why?”
“You were always so calm, so focused, so… content.”
I reached across the table. “Suzanne, you have been my best friend since college. Why did you never say anything?”
“There was nothing to say. You’re my best friend, too, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t kind of wish I had what you had.”
Her eyes didn’t waver from my face.
“Mark? But you said… you said that day in Mexico that you were fine with it.”
“And I was. We were friends. I didn’t think anything of it until you moved to Houston and your relationship with each other got really serious. I felt like I was losing two best friends. And now you’re moving back, and I’m left here.”
She swiped at a tear.
I reached out to take her hand. “Oh, Suzanne, I thought you were so happy.”
“I am happy. You’re just upsetting the apple cart, and now what I thought was seemingly perfect no longer exists.”
“No one is perfect, Suzanne.”
She snapped herself out of her melancholy. “Well, after the shit-storm that I expect to happen tonight, you are welcome to stay with me if you need a place. Who knows, maybe I’ll pack up and leave too.”
“Don’t rush that decision. I may not stay. It’s only for two months.”
She raised her glass to me. “Here’s to new beginnings.”
“And old friends.”
I clinked my glass to hers, and we finished our meal in a stereotypically girlish way: loudly and with lots of laughter. She walked me to my car and told me (again) that I could stay with her tonight if I needed a place to stay.
The drive back to my house was short. Not nearly enough time for me to gather my thoughts and my courage. I’d left most of it back in Richard’s office.
Sitting in my car in my driveway, I thought through what this meant for the house. Then I laughed because I didn’t really want the house. Then I panicked because I thought, Do I need to buy him out? Wait, no, I don’t think so. We aren’t married yet—but my name was on the loan. My stomach dropped; it was possible I was going to throw up. What a debacle.
The house was so quiet. I had a few hours before Mark was home from work, so I went to my closet to start packing for Denver and Phoenix.
I changed into leggings and an oversized T-shirt, pulled the pins from my hair, and let it hang loose. The twist had made my scalp hurt. I rubbed my head to ease away the tension.
I started pulling out most of my comfortable clothes, athletic wear, and casual outfits. Taking everything into the guest room down the hall, I laid all the clothes out neatly on the queen-size bed so I could see what I had.
Back and forth, I went with my clothes. Back and forth, I went with my shoes, luggage, and toiletries.
Hours had passed when the beep of the house alarm alerted me to a door being opened. It echoed through the house—Mark was home.
Shoeless, I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to meet him. He had just put his bag down on the kitchen counter and was rubbing his hands up and down his face.
When he stopped, he opened his eyes and saw me standing in the doorway. “Hey, you look cozy.”
He walked toward me and enveloped me in a hug. My heart squeezed, and I steeled myself against the tears that were forming in my eyes.
“How was your day?” I asked him as I went to the wine cooler and pulled out a Chardonnay.
“Long. Exhausting. I’m glad we’re staying in tonight.” He took the glass I poured him and went to sit on the couch in the attached family room.
A container of cashews sat on the counter, and I put some in a small dish. I poured myself a glass of wine, took a long drink of it, filled it back up, and went to join him on the couch.
His legs were stretched out in front of him, feet on the coffee table. I placed the nuts on the table and curled up fawnlike at the end of the couch with my feet under me.
I rested my glass on the side of my knee and waited for him to talk.
He started talking about a new project and a new team member, and his words all just rolled together—noise in my head.
“Charlie, did you?”
Oh, crap! “I’m sorry, did I what?”
He rolled his head over on the back of the couch to look at me. “Did you talk to Richard today?”
“I did.”
Mark put his feet down and reached out to get some cashews from the snack dish on the table. “And? When did he say you can come back?”
I shifted uncomfortably. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Um, I resigned.”
“That’s funny, Charlie. Really, when are you going back?”
Nothing I could say would make this any better, so I just waited until he realized I was serious.
He leaped up from the couch and erupted. “What the fuck, Charlie? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
I flinched. That word coming out of his mouth was so harsh and offensive. He rarely said it, and I cringed.
“Please sit down, Mark. There’s more, and I need you to be calm.”
He was pacing in front of the unlit fireplace. Stopping, he put his hands on his hips and shook his head at me. “What else could there possibly be?”
“I took a job in Arizona; I’ll be gone for a few months.”
He was shaking his head from side to side and pacing again. “I don’t understand, Charlie. I don’t understand.”
“It’s an operations job. I’ll be traveling most of the time to different cities.”
I was embarrassed that I couldn’t tell him exactly what I’d be doing. I was ashamed that I wouldn’t take ownership of it. I was no better than him for judging, but I also knew it would just make things worse.
He stopped pacing. “Who are you? What happened to our plans?”
His words sliced me open, and the tears I’d been holding back all day let loose. “What plans? We didn’t have plans. You had plans, and I followed along.”
“I thought you wanted the same things. We fit so perfectly. We never fought—until recently. We like the same foods and movies. What happened, Charlie?”
“I don’t know, Mark. What I do know is that I’m not happy anymore.” I reached for the hem of my T-shirt and wiped the tears from my eyes.
Mark walked away and went to the half bath, returning with a tissue box. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
I blew my nose, and he sat down next to me.
“Are you coming back?”
“I think so. I don’t know.”
“Are we pushing out the wedding date?
My tears formed again, and my lip quivered.
He nodded tersely. “I see.”
I started to sob. “I’m so sorry, Mark. I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t comfort me. He didn’t say anything. Just sat there staring at the fireplace while I cried.
His voice was cold when he said, “We’re hosting the fundraising gala in a few months. Will you be here for that?
The lack of emotion in his words was like a deluge of ice water, and my tears abruptly stopped. I responded that I would.
“When do you leave?”
“Wednesday.”
He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. Turning to me, he said, “I love you, Charlie. I would like for you to give us some thought while you’re away. I can’t pretend to understand what’s happened to you, but I know I love you.”
These were the words I’d needed to hear weeks ago. I was already emotionally out the door, so his thought that something had happened to me made me bristle.
He continued. “I want us to be together. I want us to build a life together. And if it looks different than what I imagined, then I can work with that.
I was emotionally exhausted, so I just nodded.
As he stood, he said he was going back to his office. “I’ll sleep there tonight. Do you need a ride to the airport Wednesday morning?”
This cold, monotone Mark scared me a little bit. I don’t think he fully understood what I’d told him.
“No, I’ll Uber.”
He nodded gravely at me and then took off down the hall.
Sitting numbly on the couch, I waited for him to return. A few minutes later, he came back through the family room with an overnight bag.
“Please text me when you land.” He looked so sad and heartbroken. But I couldn’t change things, and I couldn’t go back. I was numb.
I simply nodded and watched as he went out the back door, locking it behind him. The engine’s soft purr grew quieter as he left the driveway, and then it was silent.
This had been the longest day ever!
When I knew he was gone, I sat back down on the couch and wept—not the racking sobs from earlier, but tears of loss and grief. I don’t know how long I lay there and cried. My tears turned to shallow breaths and then shudders as I wore myself out.
My phone pinged with an incoming text from Suzanne: You okay?
I texted back: No, but I will be.
The phone rang, startling me. I answered, “Hi.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No, I need to be alone.”
We were silent. I knew she wanted to ask about what had happened.
“Charlotte, honey, are you sure this is what you want?”
My heart was so heavy, my eyes swollen and sore. I lay back down on the couch, closing my eyes and holding the phone to my ear. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Everything happened so fast, and yet it didn’t really. It’s been building for months, maybe even the past year. I just—” I started to cry again. “I just didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
“I’m coming over.”
I sat up. “No!” Then, less emphatically, “No, I’m fine. I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“How about if I stay tomorrow night and take you to the airport in the morning?”
I cried again and tried to speak. My throat had closed, and I had to swallow so I could get the words out. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll be there around six? I’ll bring Chinese.”
“Thank you, Suzanne.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
I fell asleep on the couch, waking a little after two in the morning. I trudged slowly up the stairs to my bed—my beautiful king-size bed with 1200 thread count, Egyptian cotton sheets. I cried all over again.
Tuesday was a whirlwind day. I ran errands, finished my packing, and arranged for the cleaning lady to be paid while I was gone.
Solara had emailed me a huge file of paperwork to fill out for employment, as well as instructions for the event. She wrote in her email: Text me when you land, and we’ll ride together to the hotel.
I printed everything out and put it in my carry-on bag to review on the plane. I could have downloaded it all to my phone or a tablet, but I was old-fashioned in some ways and still liked holding paper in my hands sometimes.
Suzanne arrived right on time. We took our dinner out onto the back deck to enjoy by the pool.
“You really want to give all this up?”
She was laughing at me, I knew, but still, I responded, “This doesn’t mean anything to me, Suzanne.”
“I know it doesn’t. But it sure is a beautiful house.”
“Maybe Mark will let you move in.”
She chortled, “Oh, please no.”
After a moment of silence, I told her I was tired and ready for bed. “The guest room is all made for you.”
“I want to sleep with you. Like when we were in college.”
That made me laugh. “All right.”
“You go up. I’ll clean up here and be there in a minute.”
When I reached my room, I saw it for what it was: just a room. My suitcases were packed and set at the top of the stairs. My carry-on bag sat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. My purse was on the vanity chair.
The only room I’d ever loved in this house was my room, but I would have another room. Another house. Another life. Somewhere.
For now, with fresh, rested eyes, I knew I was making the right decision. I was all cried out, and I was free.
Suzanne took me to the airport in the morning. She cried.
“Stop! No crying. Come visit me if you want or go visit your parents, for goodness sake.”
“Will you text me and tell me where you are, what city you’re in, and when you’re back in Phoenix?”
She pulled up to the curb and hugged me tightly. I’d hardly had time to breathe in the last seventy-two hours.
“Yes, I will. And I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. You always are.”
I hugged her back, squeezing her one last time. “I’m really happy, Suzanne. This is the right thing for me.”
She got back in her car and waited until I was inside before driving away. My grin grew bigger, my steps were lighter, and my heart was less heavy the closer I got to security.
I was doing the right thing.