“What I have to tell you is going to be very difficult for me to say,” Rachel began in a solemn and sad tone, “so, before you say anything I ask that you patiently listen to everything I have to say.”
Desmond, though sensing she had some bad news, was quite pleased that they were finally sitting down to have a conversation. Rachel had said very little to Desmond in the three weeks which had followed the Bells’ second visit to church. The house during this time had been very quiet and often vacant with Rachel spending an increasing amount of time at Rebecca’s.
“I know I’ve been out a lot and I appreciate the fact that you haven’t complained about my absence,” Rachel said as she stood up and began to pace, “but Rebecca has needed someone to talk to.”
“She’s not ready to speak to you and I don’t know when she will be,” Rachel looked at Desmond for a brief moment and then paced on as she talked.
“When a tragedy hits a family is supposed to be drawn together, not fall apart. I’m not saying I hold you totally responsible for what has happened between you and Rebecca, but I completely understand why she can’t find it in her heart to talk to you just yet.”
Rachel’s words started to take on a stiff cadence and Desmond could easily tell that she had been rehearsing this speech for quite awhile. As he listened to Rachel, Desmond reflected on how quiet his life had been lately.
Even when Rachel had been home, she had not felt much like talking lately. Desmond handled most of his weekly chores and duties in complete silence, and for whatever reason, hadn’t had any visitors or phone calls for over two weeks. For the first time that he could recall he had two weeks of no confessions, counseling sessions or spontaneous visits by friends. No one called with wedding or baptism plans and no one called for advice or assistance regarding a sick family member. No one came up to him and talked to him as he tended to the grounds, or even beeped their horn as they passed by the church.
The biggest silence in his life, though, came from Rebecca and Rachel. Each and every hour of each and every day Desmond missed talking to his wife and daughter. A little over a week ago he sent flowers to Rebecca. With the flowers he attached a note telling her how she was in his every thought and he wanted to speak to her. Rebecca made no reply either directly or through Rachel who made no mention of the flowers to Desmond.
Desmond sat motionless as he listened to Rachel stiffly walking through her presentation. He hoped that whatever she had to say would end the tension which had wedged itself between them over these past several weeks. He was willing to sit there and endure whatever it took to get it all out of her system. Even if she yelled and threw things it would be much better than the silent hell they had been living together. No matter what she broke it would not be as expensive as the cost her silence had been having on their marriage.
He wanted to hold her, cradle her and tell her how much he loved her, just as he had tried so many times over the past weeks. Yet, until she somehow felt better, he knew she would once again reject him, and refuse to be comforted by his words.
Each time he felt a need to interrupt, help her get to the point or defend himself, he gripped the arm on his chair a little tighter. He knew she needed her time to speak and that she would not feel better until she said everything she had intended to say.
Rachel explained that much of her recent silence wasn’t so much born out of anger, as a reluctance to be put in the middle. She confided that she found it almost impossible to talk to Desmond without talking to him about her conversations with Rebecca. Her solution, therefore, was to just stay quiet and not talk to Desmond.
“Rebecca’s needs to have someone to talk to are growing each day. She feels very alone, especially with Mark working all these extra hours before the long winter layoff. When in the house all by herself she feels tortured by all the memories of Andrew. She says that being able to talk about Andrew helps but sitting alone thinking about him doesn’t.”
Rachel’s pacing quickened as she seemed to be pressing towards her major point. “Rebecca needs to talk a lot, and she needs me to be around a lot. She needs me, and even if she were to have someone else to talk to, I couldn’t bear the thought of her working through Andrew’s death with someone other than her mother. I’m Andrew’s grandmother and I, too, need to talk about his death.”
Clutching her hands into fists Rachel’s movement became frantic. Desmond had not seen anyone so harried since the time he helped a young woman get over her addiction to prescription medication.
“If she’s to get through this, she needs to talk and to feel comfortable talking. The way things are between you and her she can’t come here and talk. My only choice is to go see her and speak to her at her house. I, too, can’t talk about Andrew here with you. You’re like from a different planet or something,” Rachel said wavering between righteous anger and embarrassment.
“I know you loved Andrew and you were great with him, but I don’t understand your reaction to his death. You seem so distant, so cold. I feel us growing apart over Andrew’s death, and each day I spend in this house the less in love I am with you.”
Rachel stopped pacing and with her back turned to Desmond braced herself for what she was about to say. “I’ve thought about this for a long time, and I’ve come to a decision. In order to help Rebecca and myself, and save our marriage, I’ve decided to go live with Rebecca and Mark.”
Her last words were like a deep blow to Desmond’s chest. He sat there angry, afraid and struggling to breathe. He knew he should say something, but nothing short of a pained scream seemed possible. Yelling would only push her farther away and he could not think of a single rational reply to her announcement.
Rachel kept her back turned and waited nervously for Desmond’s response. When none came, her anxiety grew as she tried to understand his silence. Was he about to explode? Was he crying? Was he okay? For whatever reason she could imagine him staying quiet, Rachel was too frightened to turn around and look at him.
Desmond’s first recognizable emotion was one of sadness. She had been moving away from him for the last few weeks, and now she was leaving, maybe for good. At this moment he had a hard time imagining her leaving, but an even tougher time believing she would ever return.
He stared at Rachel’s back and thought of how petite and frail she looked. He realized that her strength and determination often clouded his view of her. Underneath her bravado she was a small and vulnerable person. For a brief moment Desmond pictured his arms stroking her tapered back as he had many times before, and longed to hold on to her and not let her go.
“Rache?” Desmond rasped breaking the painfully long silence.
“Yes, Desi,” Rachel replied in a surprisingly warm and compassionate tone.
“Could you please turn around and look at me?”
“I’d rather not,” Rachel said tenderly, “if I do I’m afraid I’ll stay. I want to leave…I mean I need to leave. If I were to look at you right now I’d see your pain and I’d stay.”
Rachel paused a moment to sniff away some tears before adding, “The longer I’m here, the more I will resent you. I don’t like being angry with you…and that’s why I need to go….Do you understand?”
“I only understand that after twenty years of marriage you have decided to leave me,” Desmond said regretting the sharpness with which he said these words.
“Please Desmond!” she cried out. “It’s not like that…at least I don’t think so. I just need some time to myself, and some time with Rebecca.”
“Are you going to come see me?” Desmond asked, his voice beginning to quiver.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to call?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I call?” Desmond asked sounding hurt and defeated.
“Oh Desmond, I don’t know,” Rachel timidly confided. “I haven’t thought any of this through…I mean how could I? I don’t know what I’ll feel tomorrow. I only know what I’ve been feeling lately and today…and that is that I need to get out of here for awhile.”
Rachel still not turning around folded her arms tightly and bent forward to comfort herself as she cried. After a few more moments she added, “I guess it would be best if you didn’t call. If you called before I wanted to talk, I would only get angrier with you.”
“What should we do now?”
“I would like you to leave the house so I can pack up my things…”
“Just like that!” Desmond shot back nervously. “But, there is still so much to say. I listened to you, don’t I get a chance to speak.”
“Please, no!” Rachel shouted. “It wouldn’t do any good, Desi. My mind is made up and I wouldn’t listen to you.”
“So, how long am I to leave for?” Desmond said curtly with a voice full of hurt.
“I’ll be gone in little over an hour. I’ll call Rebecca as soon as I’m done packing and Mark will come pick me up.”
Desmond sat frozen in his chair staring at Rachel’s back. “Even in a totally unjust world,” he thought to himself, “this couldn’t be happening.”
“Before I leave could you at least have the courtesy to turn around,” Desmond said in an angry plea.
“Could you please go so that I can pack?” Rachel asked as she twisted her body in a half turn towards his. Her eyes came up and then darted down after she snuck a quick glance at Desmond.
Desmond stood and made a slight move in Rachel’s direction. Seeing his feet approaching her Rachel moaned, “Please Desi, no! Don’t come any closer! I really need you to respect my wishes and to leave this instant.”
Alarmed by the terror in her voice, Desmond stopped dead in his tracks. He considered for a moment telling her what he thought of all her wishes, but decided to let it go. He turned slowly away and in a voice slightly louder than a whisper observed, “Sometimes when I try my hardest to follow your rules, it seems like everybody loses.”
Rachel remained stiff until she heard Desmond exit out the front door. Once she was sure she was safely out of his hearing range she dropped herself on the bed and began to cry. Taking in a deep breath she could smell Desmond’s body lingering sweetly in the bedspread. A smell she knew better than her own, and which had often been a source of great comfort. A smell she wasn’t sure if she’d ever smell again. Lovingly she stroked the bedspread a few times before raising herself up to begin packing.
Rachel was leaving home and all that home had represented for the last twenty years of her life. She was not sure even why she was leaving, but she just knew she had to go. Her life with Desmond had now become as empty as her life had become without Andrew. She was going to Rebecca’s for Rebecca was the last thing she had which made her feel alive.
Desmond marched out the front door and stopped as soon as he reached the bottom step of the front stoop. The long hot summer was completely gone and a chill now filled the late afternoon air. Desmond walked back in and grabbed his jacket off the coat rack near the door, before quickly exiting the house once again.
When he got to the car Desmond once again paused, and decided to stay on foot and walk in the crisp autumn air. She could get rid of him, he reasoned, but she wasn’t going to be able to leave without seeing their car. He didn’t want Rachel’s escape to be clean and antiseptic. He wanted their car to be a visual reminder of his presence, and of her leaving him.
Desmond looked up at the grey and cloudy skies. A premature darkness was now ushering in the evening, and Rachel’s departure would surely be in darkness.
After walking down the block Desmond turned and looked at their bedroom window. Rachel had turned on the bedroom light as she gathered together her things. Desmond’s eyes stayed locked on the window for quite awhile even though he never once saw Rachel or even her shadow. With the closet and her dresser so close to the window Desmond could not understand why he wasn’t able to see her. Yet, he finally conceded before walking away, there wasn’t much happening in his life of late that he was able to understand.
Desmond wanted to go see someone like Pat or Carl who would listen to his problems. Yet, even if they were home they were too far away to reach by foot. Actually there weren’t too many places Desmond could get to by foot. So, with little else to do, Desmond walked in the general direction of the church. If nothing else he could stop in there and do a little work.
The air was brisk and Desmond found it necessary to walk quite fast in order to stay warm. His attempt to beat the chill was temporarily side tracked when he had to stop to wipe off his clouded glasses. His body was tense and he could feel a headache coming on as he rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose.
He found no incentive to move on, to even take another step. He was cold, frustrated, angry, shocked, frightened and above all confused. Where was he going? What was he doing? Why did he let Rachel order him to leave? Was he being kind or just weak?
Desmond found no answer to these questions he posed to himself. He was cold and exhausted and could not move in any way. He was too tired to yell, or scream or even cry. Finally the knot growing in his stomach told him to move or he would become sick right there on the street.
Once again Desmond walked quickly and took deep breaths. He moved steadily forward not so much to keep warm but to stay a step ahead of the nausea nipping at his throat. With total concentration on his queasiness Desmond was able to block out any distressing thoughts regarding Rachel, Rebecca or Andrew. His goal now was not to get his life in order but to make it to the church before throwing up or passing out.
Light headed and dizzy Desmond walked, sometimes stumbling in the direction of the church. Taking deep breaths and with his head down Desmond dared not stop to wipe off his glasses which had clouded up once more. In almost complete blindness Desmond approached the church.
Collapsing into a back pew Desmond gave into his spinning head and stomach. His racing heart slowed down and with it so did his nausea. Somewhere near sleep Desmond laid in the pew in the darkened church for some time.
Though still weak and slightly disoriented Desmond felt much better when he regained consciousness. No longer wishing to do any work, he sat up and drifted deep into his numb body. His quiet meditation was long and empty, devoid of any pain or anxiety. When he finally rose once again he decided that it was safe for him to go home.
He walked home slowly letting his entire body be engulfed in the bitter cold of the evening. He entertained few thoughts as he braved the cold and most of these were hopeful. He felt there was a good chance Rachel had changed her mind. He pictured her sitting at home worrying about him and eager to leap into his arms the moment he arrived. He imagined them embraced and crying together beginning the healing process they both needed.
As the house came into view Desmond was excited to see that both the porch and bedroom lights were both aglow. These beacons in the night quickened his pace and fortified his heart. Sure, he thought to himself, they had rough times, but they always came through them closer and more in love than ever.
Desmond anxiously threw open the unlocked front door to cry out, “Rache, I’m home!…Rache, are you there?” A question that hung heavy in the air, finding no reply then or in the nightmares Desmond would soon have each and every night.