Eleven
Judith
I zip my coat all the way up as Meena and I walk out to the parking lot, calling out our goodbyes, in plumy breaths. It takes a few tries to open the Uber app on my phone and set home as my destination. I’m fairly certain it’s because my hands are frozen and not because I had too much to drink. Or it could be the small print.
“Forget Uber,” Meena says. “It’s freezing out here. I’ll run you home.”
“Don’t be silly. You live in the opposite direction.”
“I think I can go a little out of my way for a friend. And you won’t even have to plug in an address.”
“No, I really don’t think . . .”
“Stop arguing and come on.” She links her elbow with mine and leads me toward her car.
“All right. But you really don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
In the car, I fumble with the seat belt until she reaches across me and clicks it together.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I blow on my hands while the heater blasts on and begins to defrost the windshield.
“I know you. You didn’t drive. You drank like you were screwing up your courage for something.” Meena starts the car and backs out of the parking space.
I stare straight ahead as we drive the two-lane street that leads to Johnson Ferry Road, which will wind into East Cobb, where River Forge is.
“Fine,” I say finally. “I had an appointment with your divorce attorney yesterday. Thanks for getting me in, by the way. I had no idea that the busiest time of year for divorce filings was immediately after the holidays.”
“There are lots of suicides right after the holidays, too,” Meena says quietly. “Clearly, it’s not always the holly, jolly time it’s cracked up to be.”
“Yeah.”
“How did it go?” Streetlights illuminate Meena’s face, then cast it back into shadow.
“I liked her. She laid everything out, what would happen, the retainer, gathering financial information. How she’d position me.”
The scenery flies by. The suburbs are quiet at ten p.m. on a Tuesday night. Some stores and restaurants are still open, but the parking lots are mostly empty. There are very few cars on the road.
“What made you decide to see her?” Meena asks.
“Nate didn’t invite me to Europe. And then he butt-dialed me from Italy, and I was forced to hear him tell a total stranger that our spark died a long time ago and that he’s just ‘going through the motions.’ And FYI—none of those motions include sex. I almost wish he’d been screwing around.”
“No, you don’t,” Meena says.
“You’re right. Sorry. It’s just . . . the kids aren’t really kids anymore, but I don’t think either of them is ready for their family to cease to exist. And . . . I mean it all feels so . . . final.”
“It is.” Tonight, Meena is my confessor and advisor.
“Have your kids forgiven you?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
“More or less. I think they’ve come to understand that the divorce has made things better. At least for me. Now I have my own relationship with them, and I have to remind myself I’m not responsible for making sure they have a relationship with Stan. I’m not his spokesperson. Or his promoter.
“I’m polite when we’re all together, but Stan likes to pretend that everything was fine and I just got bored.” She shrugs. “I’m happier than I was in a marriage that wasn’t working, but nothing’s perfect. Sometimes I feel lonely. I even miss Stan now and then. But I know I did the right thing. For me.”
We turn onto Upper Roswell as she continues. “The way I see it you have three choices: Suck it up, stay married, and make the best of the situation. You can spend more time with friends, take trips he’s not interested in on your own, live as separate a life as you need to without actually leaving.
“Or you work on your marriage and try to make it better. Of course, that takes cooperation on both sides.” Meena’s gaze lands on my face. “Maybe if Nate knew he was going to lose you, he’d try harder. Stan didn’t, but Nate could be different.”
She stops for a last red light. “Or you file for divorce and commit yourself to creating the life you want.”
“I’m fifty-five years old.” At the moment it sounds like one hundred.
“I know,” Meena replies. “Fortunately, there’s no age limit on happiness. You could live another forty years, Jude. Are you willing to settle for four more decades?”
My mind swims with visions of what forty years of settling might feel like. What it would do to me. Could I even survive it?
We turn into River Forge, driving past the clubhouse and pool and the perfectly flat street where Ansley and Ethan learned to ride their bikes.
As we drive down the neighborhood’s main street, our former lives are everywhere. Meena’s mouth tightens when we enter the cul-de-sac we shared and cruise past her former house, on our way to mine. The Parkers’ house was always part of the view from our master bedroom. Any trip to the mailbox included a quick glance to see whether Meena’s Volvo was parked in their garage. When the kids were still in school, no one ever closed their garage door until the entire family was in for the night. Nowadays, I pull in and close the garage door behind me as soon as the car is off.
“God, it seems like a lifetime ago that we moved into the neighborhood,” Meena muses. “I remember you coming over with homemade brownies the day we moved in.”
“Yeah. Me, too. There are new versions of us moving in every day.” I look at my old friend. “I wish Nate had been open to moving. Maybe we would have had a better chance at adapting somewhere new.”
She’s kind enough not to remind me that a new home didn’t save her marriage. When we reach my house, she pulls into the driveway and stops, leaving her engine running. “So. What now?”
“Well, this afternoon I shaved body parts I didn’t even know I still had. I’m going to go inside, put on my sexiest negligee, which would be my only remaining negligee, and seduce my husband.” I don’t add that one of my biggest fears is whether I’m still desirable enough to pull this off. “I think that falls under your marital option number two. I’m hoping that it will remind us both who we are and what we once had.”
“And then?”
“Then, once he’s completely relaxed, I’m going to explain that I’m tired of being taken for granted and that things have to change if we’re going to stay married. I don’t actually know what he’ll choose, but either way, things are going to change.”