Ghost on the Wind Pt. 02

Ghost on the Wind, part 2

It may not seem like it initially, but this is a love story. Some time ago I wrote a story called Ghost on the Wind about a man who suspected that his wife of twenty-five years was cheating, got the evidence that she was, and simply disappeared from her life. He moved six hundred miles away and started his life anew with no discussion, no lies, and no redemption. The story was all about the discovery of her treachery and his transition to a new beginning. To fully understand this story, you might want to read that story first. I began to wonder what that new life might be like and how he could find his way to being whole again. This is that story.

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My name is Andrew Baker, but everyone calls me "AB". Please don't call me Andy. I had one elderly aunt who always called me Andy and she would pinch my cheek when she did it. That went on until she died, and I was in college by then. I hate being called Andy. I was married to a woman named Karen until the day came when I wasn't. I've already told you how that happened. This is the story of how I made a new life for myself and eventually found love again.

My wife was cheating on me with a nothing-of-a-man, a man who was married in his own right with two kids, and yet he cheated on his own wife as he bedded mine. She had tried to hide her affair, but she couldn't hide her growing disrespect for me. My wife was a frustrated writer and once our two girls were off to college her attention slowly shifted from our marriage to her writing and then to this other adventure. I spent twenty-five years dedicating myself to her, our girls, and our life together, but once the girls were away it seems I grew largely irrelevant to her. I think she came to view me as an impediment to her writing success as if I were to blame for the fact that no publisher was interested in her work. I suppose every failed artist needs someone to blame so long as the fault is not with them, but I think the truth has more to do with the fact that I was successful and happy in my career and she never was. I don't know when the affair actually started, but I do know that for six weeks she shared a bed with Frank. I know that nothing I tried could dissuade her from her betrayal, and that once done I could never put it behind me.

So, I ghosted my marriage. While she was away enjoying the fantasy of being a great, if budding, writer, and sharing her bed with Frank, I arranged to have my possessions packed and shipped ahead to my new destination. I got a transfer from my company's office in Raleigh, North Carolina to their office in Portland, Maine and spent a week driving the highways and back roads on the way to my new life. I sampled the regional cuisine, spoke with the people, and soaked in the sites along the way. I thought that with enough time and distraction I could wash her memory from my mind. I was wrong. I also spent two days with my lovely and amazing daughters, who were in college at Brown and Boston University, as I tried to explain to them what had happened and why I could never remain with their mother. They understood and supported me. I finally found my way to Portland where I met the other engineers and technicians in my new office and rented a two-bedroom walk up apartment close to work.

Well, that should bring you up to speed on my life at that point in time. Eventually, it got better.

It didn't take me long to realize that I was going to enjoy living in Portland. It was mid-August by the time I got settled, so it was still summer. There were some sailors in my office and they quickly introduced me to other sailors, so before long I was plugged into the sailing scene. Any skipper is usually looking for able crew and I quickly got my sea legs back. Sailing is like riding a bike: when you've been off it for a long time you may be a bit ragged at first, but it all comes back quickly. By September I was a regular member of the crew on a J-24 racing in Casco Bay and we did fairly well until the autumn season closed and the boat was put away for the season.

I admit that I threw myself into my work, and I know the admonition about "All work and no play...", but that's the life of a single man over fifty who lives alone. I'm not a big drinker, so I find the bars to be a bit tedious if I'm out alone. One or two nights each week I'd meet up with someone from work or from the sailing community and we'd grab dinner and a beer or two. Other nights I cooked for myself and those nights I would work at home as much for something to do as anything else. I know it sounds boring, but I had a lot to think about as my lawyer worked on my divorce and a man can think too much when it comes to things like that. It was better that I had something to occupy my mind.

My wife, Karen, called way more often than I wanted considering that what I wanted was zero calls. Every call only served to reopen a wound that was slowly healing. She tried everything I expected and a few things I never imagined. She made promises, but what are promises when vows are broken? She made threats, but she no longer had any leverage over me. She missed and loved me and in some twisted way I actually thought she did, but not enough to be faithful. She begged, but every time she did, I remembered those images of her in bed with Frank and my sympathies for her evaporated. She even threatened to come up to Portland and win me back, but I convinced her that she would not be warmly received. I didn't want to threaten her, or treat her with hatred for what she'd done, but I would if that was required. Love is slow to die even when trust is destroyed, but I could never return to her now.

The summer passed and I'd always heard about fall in New England, but until you live through one you think it's just pretty leaves. It's pick-your-own apples, outdoor concerts, and county fairs, and I had a growing legion of friends to share it with. I became addicted to fresh squeezed apple cider, pleasantly warm sunny days with cool nights, and that palpable sense that something big was just around the corner. Winter in Maine is definitely something big! I tried to prepare for it with warm clothes and heavy boots, but I had a lot to learn.

All the while and with every call, Karen was keeping a secret from me. When Frank's wife kicked him out of their house, he moved in with Karen. This little nugget of deception was shared with me by my loving daughters who I had convinced to keep in contact with their mother. She wasn't much of a wife, but she had been a good mother to the girls and even at their age a girl sometimes needs her mother.

The girls learned about Frank from their grandmother. For that first week I was gone, Karen had called just about everyone we knew in an effort to find me. The only people she didn't call were my parents, her parents, and our siblings. I suppose that would have raised too many questions. Word soon got out, probably from our mutual friends, that I was gone, and her mother came to comfort her daughter. You can imagine her surprise to find a strange man living with her daughter in what had shortly before been my home. As usual, my wife's explanation was less than truthful and after 5 decades of knowing her daughter, my mother-in-law found Karen's lies to be transparent. Karen's mother told my daughters with some alarm and my daughters patiently, if tactfully, recounted the story of my betrayal. Their grandmother reportedly referred to her daughter using a word that I had never heard her use before and that her husband would have busted me in the mouth for had I ever used it to refer to his daughter. Funny how quickly life can change.

October was passing and Halloween was fast approaching. My girls were visiting me at least one weekend every month, but Halloween isn't a school holiday and they were stuck at school. Still, I know they went to class in their costumes and they sent me selfies for my amusement, but I wish I'd been there to see them. There were young families around me and answering the door that night to greet all those young ghouls and pretty ballerinas lifted my spirits to their highest point since I left Raleigh.

Karen's calls grew less frequent, but their tone never changed. She was fighting the divorce. My lawyer finally threatened to release the most damaging and embarrassing evidence my P.I. had gathered and with that Karen folded. She stopped fighting the divorce and began negotiating to get as much of our assets as she could. In time, she had no more cards to play, but it would still take months to get to that point.

No matter how painful the betrayal, after twenty-five years of marriage you greet the knowledge that it is about to be well and truly over with some genuine regret and a terrible sense of loss. It didn't make me change my mind, but like a death in the family I mourned.

My life went on and got steadily better. Thanksgiving was approaching and my daughters decided to spend it with me. As with every trip, they brought some friends. On this trip it was mainly friends who could not get home for the holiday, and since both daughters were there at the same time, we had a full house. Those who didn't sleep in the spare bedroom brought sleeping bags and stretched out on the floor. It was a coed group, so I just went to bed in my own room and said a silent prayer while reminding myself that they had every day on campus to do what I hoped they wouldn't be doing in my apartment.

I tried to cook a traditional Thanksgiving meal, but the women wouldn't let me. "Dad, we've got this. Go enjoy the game." Two smiling young women who were not my daughters took me by the shoulders, spun me around, and escorted me out. With that, I was dismissed and left the cooking in their able hands. Every so often I'd peek into the kitchen and what I saw can only be described as orchestrated chaos. It was a joyful sight. Dinner was both delicious and delightful and I soon realized that my only job was to ask questions that spurred everyone to tell me stories about school and their lives and homes. The conversation at the table was lively. I heard about boyfriends who had been disappointments and girlfriends who had not. Some of the conversation took place in code, but I wasn't so old that I couldn't understand.

After dinner I tried to organize a long walk in the cold November air, but only the women joined me. The game on TV held far too much attraction for the young men and I must confess the young women held far more interest for me. I enjoyed their company and with the young men back at the apartment the girls told me a few more details about their boyfriends, both past and present. That was when Jenny dropped a dime on my daughter. "How are you and Ben getting along?"

"Who's Ben?" I asked in that almost singing fashion a parent probes a daughter's secrets.

You know that look young women give when they're busted, but still confident and having fun? That was the look every one of them was showing except for my daughter who was clearly doing a calculation in her head. She was still thinking she could bluff her way out. "Oh, he's just a boy at school."

"Just a boy? Are you getting along with all the boys?"

"I try... I mean, not like that... I mean... Dad!"

"Yes?" Boy, was she busted!

"Okay, Ben is just someone I met in my digital circuits class last semester. He's a serious student and I think you'd like him."

"Claire says he's a good dancer, too, Mr. Baker." That made them break out in giggles.

"Okay, so this Ben is a serious student, a good dancer, and you think I'd like him. So why haven't I met him?" I was starting to think it was six against one and for once I was with the six.

"It's too soon, dad. Besides, he had to go home to be with his family."

"And where would that be?" Okay, I was busting her chops just a little, but a father has certain responsibilities and I was enjoying it.

"Pennsylvania."

"And what are his parents like?"

"Oh, they're really nice!" And then the look of shock on her face told me she knew she was more than busted.

"So, you've met them?"

"Yes."

"And they're nice?"

"Yes."

"But it's too soon?"

"I'll work on it." I knew at that point her friends were going to bust her chops far better than I ever could, so I dropped the subject for now. I had come to have a good opinion of my daughters' friends and they seemed to like this young man. Plus, I knew my daughters both had a good head on their shoulders, so I felt confident that I needn't worry too much.

The holiday passed and my traveling band of gypsies headed south to their respective schools leaving my batteries recharged and my heart full. Life continued to look better all the time. I would need every bit of that joy and the full support of my daughters for what was ahead: Christmas.

Before my girls left for school, we had a long heart-to-heart over what to do about the Christmas holiday. Karen was already fuming that Claire and Denise had come to Maine for Thanksgiving instead of going to North Carolina to be with her. Forget that Maine was a three-hour drive and Raleigh was a full day; it was all about Karen. We decided that I would buy the tickets and we would all fly back to Raleigh for Christmas. I would stay with my parents, who are now in their early- to mid-seventies and there's no telling how many more years we will have together, and I left it up to my girls to stay wherever they felt was right. They chose to stay with their mother and would visit friends and both sets of grandparents as much as possible. For my part, I agreed to make nice with my soon-to-be ex-wife and socialize with her parents who always liked me.

Can I just say it was the trip to hell and back? No, I guess that isn't enough.

The family decided that each set of grandparents would hold their own Christmas Eve. I would be with my family, the girls would spend time with both, and I would visit my in-laws later in the evening. I agreed to spend Christmas morning with Karen and the girls, and then I would speak privately with her before I left. It sounded more like a gauntlet than a holiday, but it all needed to be done. I needed closure with Karen, and I needed to see what sort of relationship I might have with her family in the future. There was no escaping it. Karen and I shared daughters and we would someday share sons-in-law and grandchildren. All our paths would cross year after year, and I was determined not to ruin every festive family occasion by fighting with my soon-to-be ex.

My daughters and I flew into Raleigh separately and arrived late in the morning two days before Christmas, each leaving from airports close to schools and home, and I rented two cars. I took one rental and the girls shared the other. They were staying longer than me, and I figured they would want their independence to visit with friends and may need to escape their mother's rants at some point. Before leaving the airport, we sat down at the coffee shop and made certain we had our plans straight. Just those few minutes with these two lovely and vibrant young women put my mind in a better place. I decided right there that I would enjoy the holiday as best I could and not let Karen ruin it for any of us. After signing the rental papers, loading our suitcases, and getting one last pair of hugs, I quietly watched these two lovely and very mature gems drive off. I know they have a lot of independence at school, but there is nothing like a car to make a young person feel fully independent and free. Watching them leave, I had the feeling they would enjoy these days no matter what else might happen.

I drove to my parents' home and settled in for a quiet day of conversation. They wanted to know about my new life in Maine, made a few mildly disparaging remarks about northerners, and I assured them that I was surviving the Maine winter. Dad is a retired engineer, so we talked shop for a time. Mom wanted to know if I was eating properly. What can I say? Once you are a child in my mother's home, you remain a child for life. I guess that's how she shows her love. In time, we got around to the elephant in the room.

"So, we had a long and very painful talk with Karen's parents. Apparently, her mother met the man she's currently living with. I assume you know something about that?"

"Yes, mom. That's Frank, the man she was cheating with."

"Well, Betty didn't like him at all. She said he gave her the creeps trying to be all charming and sweet. She said he looked the type that would steal her purse if he got the chance."

"Well, he stole my wife, so a purse doesn't seem like such a reach."

"You know your mother and I were very worried about you that first week you were gone. We had no idea where you were or if you were even alive. Please don't do that to us again, son."

"I won't dad. I'm sorry I did that. I wanted to disappear so Karen would never find me and I'm afraid I took an all-or-nothing approach. It was nuts. I should have known I couldn't really disappear, and I never wanted you to worry. I promise I'll never do that again."

"I assume you're done with her? There's no going back?"

"Never. I'm done. I know I didn't tell you enough about what happened, but I got wind that she might be planning to cheat on me about a month and a half before she left town for that Illinois Writer's Workshop. I still have no idea if she was cheating before that, but she spent those six weeks at the workshop sleeping in Frank's bed and acting like they were newlyweds. I tried everything I could do to keep her from going or to let me go along, but I couldn't stop her. I never really knew for sure that she was going to cheat until she did, but I had a bad feeling those last six weeks before the workshop. I even begged her not to do anything that would destroy our marriage, but all she did was berate me for my suspicions. Once she did it, the marriage was done as far as I was concerned. Even if I could forgive her, and she's never actually asked me to forgive her in all this time, I don't know how I could ever trust her again. Sorry, dad, but the marriage is over."

My father took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well, I'll say this in front of your mother so she can't accuse me of saying it behind her back. If I were in your shoes, I'd do the same thing."

"You old goat, if I were in his shoes, I'd do it faster and I'd cut your balls off in the process." Mom has a way with words.

Dad looked at my mom and smiled. "It's good to feel wanted." Mom just snickered and slapped dad's knee.

"Are you going to see her this trip?"

"I figure I can't avoid it. Maybe we can clear the air and start building a new relationship, so we won't be a burden to the girls. I promised to spend Christmas morning there with Claire and Denise and after the girls go off to see their friends, I'll have a talk with Karen. Maybe she can see her way clear to letting us both get on with our lives."

"Geez, is that it? Merry freakin' Christmas!" I think dad saw the kind of Christmas holiday I had in front of me.

"I promised to see her family Christmas Eve after we have dinner. The girls promised to have dinner with us first and then to go there with me, so it won't get too intense."

"I wouldn't worry about it getting bad. Karen's mother is still fuming over her behavior. Once she learned what Karen did, she practically disowned her. Right now, she thinks you're some kind of saint to be as forgiving as you have been."

"I'm forgiving? I took off before she got home and moved six hundred miles to get away from her!"

"AB, you left her the damn house! And with what she makes on a teacher's salary, it's the only house she'll ever own."