The first few nights Rachel was gone Desmond could not bring himself to sleep in the bedroom. Each night he’d come home late and spend all of his time in the kitchen and living room before falling asleep on the couch while reading a book.
Word regarding his separation from Rachel spread swiftly not only throughout town but much of the county. Desmond soon tired of all the gossip hounds and curiosity seekers who visited and called him. Though this helped keep him busy and away from home, it also forced him to talk about Rachel and her departure. A subject both painful and almost impossible for him to explain.
Never one to talk about personal matters, Desmond tried desperately to avoid discussing his current family situation. He felt everything he could say was a violation of the privacy of Rachel and Rebecca. Visitors constantly pressed Desmond for details and were visibly disappointed with his answers.
Almost every person who talked to Desmond left feeling as if he was not telling the whole story, that he was hiding something. Desmond was aware of their reactions but could not bring himself to utter a single negative word about Rachel or Rebecca. Though he wanted to tell everyone it wasn’t any of their business, Desmond patiently endured their endless questions and intrusions with remarkable calm and ease.
When not being besieged by visitors or accepting the veiled invitations of nosey parishioners Desmond busied himself at church. When left alone Desmond spent most of his time working at church devising huge, elaborate projects to occupy his time. In one project Desmond was attempting to build two new comfortable chairs for his counseling room behind the alter, and another project involved the stuffing and sewing of new cushions for the kneelers in every pew. The cushions proved to be a particularly difficult task for Desmond, necessitating his starting over and making alternations numerous times.
Though Desmond kept himself busy it wasn’t busy enough. His time at home was fairly painful and lonely. He had always enjoyed quiet times, but now found them eerie and frustrating. Desmond even began to listen to the kitchen radio, a habit he hadn’t engaged in since his teens.
The pervasiveness of the quiet in the house only made the anticipation of its being disturbed much more prominent. Desmond found his attention drawn to the telephone hoping Rachel would call. Each time the phone did ring, Desmond’s heart would speed up and with shaking hands he would pick up the phone expecting to hear Rachel’s voice.
Desmond’s visits to Carl and Pat’s were now very frequent but rather short. He wasn’t ready yet to talk to either of them about Rachel’s departure, or any other family matter. When at their houses Desmond soon found his desire to stay away from home inferior to his fear of missing a call from Rachel. Each evening Desmond would endure the unnerving silence to stay faithful to his vigil for the call.
Desmond missed the routine of married life and all the joys it provided. He missed dropping Rachel off at school each morning and, with Andrew gone, particularly missed the funny little conversations he had with her students. Desmond loved talking to and being around young children and now felt so cut off from life.
He missed calling home every afternoon to talk to Rachel after she returned from work. He missed the comfort of her voice as she relayed the daily happenings from school. He missed the smell of dinner as he walked up to the front door, and the simple warmth of sitting across from Rachel while they read.
The most lonely time for Desmond was Sunday afternoons. He’d sit in the house and fondly remember funny and warm moments of previous Sundays. Desmond surprised himself with how vividly he could remember the events of almost every Sunday afternoon since Rebecca was born. The smiles, the laughter and the contentment of those times had become an indelible part of his life. He had trouble remembering the title of the movie he saw last week, but he had no trouble remembering the dress Rebecca wore on her third birthday or the tinker toy soldier named Freddie she made on one otherwise insignificant afternoon.
Though he always found his interchanges with Mark to be rather trite and even empty, Desmond was shocked to find how many fond memories he had of their Sunday conversations. Mark was not only a polite man, but Desmond began to appreciate how attentive and kind he was to everyone, especially Rebecca.
Life without Rebecca and Rachel was difficult and empty for Desmond. He found the thought of them at Rebecca’s house more devastating than the loss of Andrew. Andrew was no longer there to hug or play with, but Rachel and Rebecca were just a few miles away. They still had joy and sadness and interesting lives, but they were no longer sharing it with him.
Just when Desmond thought the house could not feel any more cold and desolate, he came home one day to find it even more haunted and empty. Rachel was never one to wear much perfume, make-up, or any obvious scent. Yet, when Desmond came in one evening he was certain he smelled her. The aroma was faint, maybe from a lotion or creme, but it was definitely a familiar one.
His heart anxiously raced as he instantly recognized Rachel as the source of the aroma. Yet, within a moment or two he decided it was a remnant of a visit from earlier in the day. Though convinced she was gone, he still felt obliged to look for her in each room of the house.
After his initial search he sat down to calm his frantic heart. Not able to detect the aroma any longer, Desmond became concerned that his nose had deceived him and he had hallucinated the familiar scent. If she had come over, Desmond wondered to himself, then why hadn’t stayed or left a note?
Deciding Rachel’s only motive for such a surreptitious visit would be to collect more of her things, Desmond stood up and searched the house. When he looked into her closet he noticed a few more of her dresses appeared to be missing.
Over the next few weeks, the moment he entered the house, Desmond’s nose sought remnants of a visit from Rachel. When he did sense she visited, he would conduct an immediate inventory of her belongings to discern what she had repossessed. Desmond was not able to detect a visiting pattern on Rachel’s part, but only that she was dropping by about twice a week.
At first Desmond was angered and felt violated by the thought of her sneaking in when he was out. Yet, after awhile, discovering what she had taken became one of his favorite games. It wasn’t much but it was, after all, the only communication he had with Rachel.
Desmond derived a certain satisfaction from figuring out what she had taken. He also enjoyed imagining why she needed the things she was taking and tried to anticipate what she would take next. Desmond always had enjoyed jigsaw puzzles and a good who-done-it, and this was a detective story he really cared about.
Hour after hour Desmond spent sifting through every clue he could find. After determining what she had taken he would play out one scenario after another trying to ascertain the motives behind her selections. Desmond had become an archaeologist of sorts trying to piece together Rachel’s life by the few scraps of evidence he placed together from her visits.
Desmond’s diligence in this game finally paid off for him. One day he noticed she had taken a creme colored dress from the closet but had left the beige shoes she usually wore with the it. Desmond, confident she would soon realize her error, wrote a small note which simply read “Hi! How are you doing?”, and placed it deep in the toe of one of the shoes.
A sense of pride filled Desmond when two days later he found she had come and taken the beige shoes. It was a small victory for sure, but he hoped it was a cute way for her to learn he was aware of her visits. He also hoped that finding the note would show her how much he knew and paid attention to her. “Not every husband,” he had thought to himself, “would know what shoes went with which dress”.
Desmond’s emotional victory was short lived and soon he experienced a devastating defeat. The next time he came home and found Rachel had visited he became terribly excited. He was sure, just as sure as he had been about the shoes, that Rachel would have left him a note. She loved detective games just as much as he did, and no matter how confused or angry she was, he was sure she couldn’t resist playing it with him
He looked for over three hours for a note, or some clue she had purposely left behind. He searched and thought, and searched and thought, racking his brain until he could no more. The following morning he had no choice but to conclude that she had not found his note at all amusing or touching.
How could she not write back? What could she have lost by a simple response? It wasn’t like he was trying to force her to come back, or confess she still cared for him. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge his existence. Was that, he sadly asked himself, too much to ask?
She wasn’t just gone, Desmond concluded, she was changing. She was losing her heart, and the little things which made their relationship special. The moment Rachel said she was leaving, Desmond was hurt and somewhat embarrassed. Yet, the pain he felt now after she ignored his note was far more severe.
Desmond had never been ambitious. He never desired money or power, only to be a good person deserving of the love of his family. Rachel’s departure was a personal defeat for Desmond, the first one he had suffered his entire adult life. It told him he had failed at the only thing he had cared about, fulfilling the needs of his wife and daughter.
He knew she had to leave that day. Just as a matter of principle and personal pride, she had to leave. He didn’t expect her to come back the first week or so, she was too proud and too confused to admit such a mistake. Sure he had fears she would never come back, but every logical thought he had said she would return. Her life, her entire adult history, was in that house and with Desmond. Underneath it all, he was confident she would return to him.
Desmond’s confidence was erased by Rachel’s refusal to play detective with him. She was no longer just angry and confused, but was now completely refusing to communicate to him. Leaving him, Desmond realized, had now become a cause. Her lack of a response to his note was not because of anger, but a sign of open revolt. He, more than anyone, knew the only thing stronger than love in Rachel, was her beliefs and her crusades. Staying away, Desmond was all but certain, had now become a matter of principle.
In the month she had been gone Desmond had been anxious but hopeful that Rachel would return. He always told himself that after she had a chance to calm down, to think things over, she would find her way back to him. He knew Rachel was proud and strong and if he approached her before she was ready, he would only scare her away.
The image of Rachel backing away from his approach was structured in some of his fondest childhood memories. A few times a year Desmond would visit his uncle who lived in the country. They had a lot of land and a stable full of horses. Desmond was fascinated by the horses and played with them almost from the moment he arrived at his uncle’s with his family. He rode them, cleaned, groomed and fed them, and was even allowed to help train some of the young ones.
At an early age Desmond learned to be patient with a horse who was loose and not to try to retrieve it by rushing after it. Through the years he developed quite a gift for subtly enticing a horse back who had bolted off the property. He learned that, though every horse would run when you came towards it, there was no one way to get it back. Some would approach you if you held out a treat like an apple or sugar, others would come to you if you played hide and seek with them, still others would not come back until you completely ignored them.
Desmond had “the way”, as his uncle used to say, with horses. Rachel always reminded Desmond of a spirited filly. She was sleek, powerful, stubborn, sensitive and beautiful. Rachel, like a filly, was free and would not let just anyone ride her. She was generally calm and patient but when motivated, could take Desmond out for the ride of his life.
He used much of his knowledge regarding how to handle a horse when courting Rachel. Even when they first dated he always gave her space and let her make her own decisions. Early on in their relationship he told her how she reminded him of a free and unbroken filly, and she, too, took pride in the image of being a free spirited and strong filly.
Desmond spent many depressed hours thinking about his runaway filly. He wondered why she was staying away and why his patience wasn’t being rewarded with her return. Desmond was very worried for he had never dealt with a horse who stayed away so long or had shown absolutely no interest in returning.
Compared to their twenty years of marriage the month she had been away was no big deal. Desmond was a patient man and six months even a year away would not be too much for him to handle. What was scary and frustrating for Desmond was the fact she showed no signs of wanting to return.
Rachel and Rebecca were drifting further and further away and with them, so was everything he valued in life. In a moment of desperation Desmond picked up the phone and began to dial Rebecca’s number. He needed to hear their voices and wanted them to know how much he missed them.
“Hello,” Rachel said softly. Her warm voice the sweetest thing he had heard in weeks.
Desmond pictured her standing in Rebecca’s kitchen, gracefully and with perfect posture waiting for him to speak. What could he say? He was quite sure she would hang up the moment she heard his voice. Maybe he could make a quick plea, or maybe he could just say, “I love you”. “Yes,” Desmond said to himself, “How could she hang up if I started by telling her how much I love her?”
“Hello,” Rachel said with a lilt in her voice trying to hide her irritation at hearing no response.
Unable to breathe, let alone speak, Desmond hung up the phone. Overwhelmed by fear and panic Desmond collapsed into his living room chair. He wondered how he could have considered even making such a call, and hoped Rachel would not figure out it had been him on the phone.
Desmond reprimanded himself for being so stupid. Where in the world could he have gotten the idea that being so direct would work? Even distant friends of the family knew better than to put Rachel on the spot, or confront her. Maybe, Desmond acknowledged, he needed to do more than just wait. Yet, running straight at her would never work.
Closing his eyes Desmond focused on his breathing. He knew he needed to calm down, to slow down. When his heart was quiet and calm, Desmond was always more prepared to face adversity. Desmond remained slumped in his chair for hours. He felt no hunger or thirst, and right up to the moment he fell asleep, did not feel tired. He only had one desire, and that was to find a way to heal his family.
When Desmond thought of Rachel, Rebecca, himself and even Mark, all he saw was pain. No one was happy with the way things were, how could they be? Even if the family were to stay split up, they still needed to resolve things. No matter how angry and stubborn Rachel and Rebecca could get, they could never accept leaving things the way they were.
Desmond decided he needed to stay patient, but not stand still. He needed to make himself available, but not appear pushy or desperate. Though he decided these things within the first ten minutes of being in the chair, he spent the next several hours trying to figure out how he could accomplish these goals. When he fell asleep he still had no answers, but felt better just knowing he was asking the right questions.