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Gretchen had recently talked me into attending a divorce support group, and I’d found that it was nice to talk to other people about the stages of grief involved in a divorce. Grief about losing holidays. Grief about your family changing. Now that my grief had subsided, I was just angry. All the old anger had bubbled up.
I climbed the back stairs to the apartment, which admittedly wasn’t very roomy. You could walk right from the kitchen into a small living room, then down the short hallway to a bathroom and two bedrooms.
I walked into my bedroom and quickly undressed, changing into running clothes. Running had been a saving grace. I put on my tennis shoes, grabbed my Air Pods, pulled on a blackrain slicker that was tight and formfitting, slipped a headband on, and moved down the stairs. Once I’d picked up my phone, I headed out the back door, pressing in the code and making sure it locked behind me.
I took off down the alleyway, heading away from the park where I could hear the movie playing. I traveled down the streets I’d known my whole life. There was comfort in that, especially since the home I’d built for twenty years was gone. The home I’d raised my son in, the home where we’d celebrated Christmas … all of that had vanished.
I moved down to Second Street, alongside the walkway on the beach. It was getting dark, and there was no one in sight as I made my way down a running path. I turned on a playlist of classic rock from the nineties, and the music blasted inside my ears.
It was funny that I was a runner now. I used to make fun of people who ran. I used to think they were horrible mothers, leaving their families so often for these insane races. That it was idiotic to sleep in a van and take turns running all night. Yet now, running was the only time that my mind seemed to calm. Getting my body in motion made the feelings disappear, at least for a while.
I ran for about thirty minutes and then turned around. A new song came on, one that made me think of Charles. Maybe it was because I’d just seen him, or maybe it was because Will had told me he wasn’t coming, but I was transported back to what my life might’ve looked like with Charles. All kinds of scenarios danced through my head as I jogged back into town.
I wasn’t ready to go back to the apartment, so I wandered toward the public park. The movie screen was easily visible from outside the gathering.It’s a Wonderful Life.Classic.
I scoffed. Wasn’t I just thinking about what my life would’ve been like if I’d gone down a different path? Except that instead of not being born, I’d chosen another man to marry.
I watched the movie for a few minutes and then scanned the crowd, observing the happy Christmas families. Children cuddling with parents. Couples cuddling together.
Grief and anger bubbled inside me. How had Peter fooled me for so long? I’d thought we were okay. Sure, we hadn’t connected well for a few months. My mother had been sick, and I’d wanted to take care of her before she passed away. I thought we’d had a tight bond before that.
How had he been lying to me for nineteen years?
I yanked off my shoes and socks and carried them down to the beach, letting them drop to the sand as I moved to the edge of the water and waded out into the cold, endless ocean. The truth was, I didn’t even feel the cold. I didn’t feel anything right now. Maybe I could just jump in and never look back. The thought appealed to me. Did my life matter as much as George Bailey’s inIt’s a Wonderful Life?
Chapter Six
Charles
We were halfway through the movie, and my grandmother and Hazel were laughing about something. They were all cozied up under the electric blankets I had plugged into some Goal Zero solar equipment. I was satisfied that they were warm enough. My brothers and I were huddled together, trying not to talk too loudly, but we weren’t the quietest bunch. Several people shushed us, which only made us laugh.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” I said, standing, then added to my grandmother and Hazel, “Ladies, don’t have too much fun.”
My grandmother smiled. “Okay.”
I made my way around the crowd and toward the bathroom. When I came out, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the sound of the ocean. I hadn’t been to the beach since coming home three days ago. Usually, I took a day to spend time at the beach, but it had been cold.
As I stared at the beach line, I noticed someone standing out in the water. It was clearly a woman, and she was almost up to her knees.
Was it her? Melody?
Unable to stop myself, I headed down the little path to the beach. I bent and took off my loafers and socks at the end of the boardwalk. My shoulders automatically relaxed when I felt the sand between my toes. Why had I ever left this place?
As I grew closer to the figure in the water, I doubted myself. Maybe it wasn’t Melody after all. Then I saw her blonde hair coming out of the headband.
She turned and looked at me. I stopped walking. Between the distance and the darkness, I couldn’t see her eyes, but I could feel the intensity of her gaze. Something was wrong. I hurried toward her.
With a jolt, she grabbed her shoes and socks and darted along the waterline, going the opposite way.
I started running, feeling like a stalker. “Melody? Melody!”
She didn’t stop, and I picked up my pace. I ran on the treadmill a couple times every morning, and it was finally paying off.
Melody reached the end of the beach where the water met rocks. She made her way toward the trail that would allow her to enter the park farthest from where the movie was being played. She bent at the beach sprayer and sprayed off her feet.
I caught up to her and approached cautiously. “Melody?”
She looked up and scowled. “What do you want?”
