Room with a View

"Doc, everyone makes mistakes. Why do you ask?"

"Steve, over the months I've read your little story at least a dozen time. It is very well written, and even though you said it was, as you put it, a blueprint to reconciliation, I think you were kidding yourself."

I was going to tell him he was full of shit, but I decided to hear him out.

"The way I read it, Mandy was a hundred percent at fault, am I right?" I nodded yes. "So you, in other words, had no effect or input on how or what she did?" I again nodded yes, a little slower this time. "In other words, she wrecked a perfectly good marriage single-handedly? Is that what you're telling me, even though you wrote in your story there were cracks in the marriage you were too blind to see at the time?" I didn't like where he was headed with this.

"Doc, I didn't start an affair. She was the one that did."

"And why would Mandy have done what she did if your marriage was so perfect? Maybe, just maybe, she was asking you for help? Maybe she got in over her head, and was asking you to throw her a life preserver to bring her back into the fold, did you ever consider that?" I was confused.

"She formed a bond with him. She had feelings for him."

"Steve, what kind of feelings? She already told you it wasn't love, more like the infatuation of a young girl. And didn't your daughter tell you that Mandy's hormones were a big part of the problem at that time, and she is now on medication?"

"She never should have let it get that far. I told her..."

"Steve, no you didn't. You never talked to her, remember? How many times did she call, text, or e-mail you, saying she wanted to talk? Did you ever respond? Didn't you avoid her at all costs? Why were you feeling so threatened?"

"She shouldn't have done what she did." I quickly replied again, starting to get annoyed with his accusations that I was somehow partially to blame.

"I'm not saying what she did was right. You laid out these eloquently written rules and steps, and put them out there for the world to see but you never sent it to her. She had to read it in the magazine like everyone else."

"You told me to!" I belligerently shot back at him.

"Steve, I told you to write her a letter and sent it to her so she could understand where you were at, not tell every living soul all the problems in your marriage. Weren't you the one who got angry when you said Mandy blindsided you?"

"Hell, yes! I thought she was sick or something the night she told me."

"Well, how do you think she felt after reading your little story? That night Mandy confided in you, no one else. Your little grandstand included the whole world. How do you think that made her feel? Lovie dovie towards you? How about humiliated, angry, resentful? And finally, did your little ploy work? Are the two of you back together?" I shook my head slowly, no. "Steve, I think that pilot light went out the day you walked out of that session with her." My stomach tightened up

I reread my story that night. Everything I'd written was set in concrete. Dr. Cohen was right, I took no blame for anything that went wrong in our marriage. As he said, I was perfect and Mandy was flawed. It wasn't a blueprint to reconciliation—it was demands and conditions culminating with her kowtowing to my every wish. I gave her no wiggle room. It became apparent I should have looked at what I put out there and what I said a little closer. I sent her an e-mail that night saying I wanted to talk to her but she never responded back, just like I hadn't a hundred times earlier.

Every other Sunday Dawn, Ronnie, and I had dinner together somewhere. We used the time to catch up with each other's lives. The evening Ronnie brought his girlfriend Carrie I knew something was up. He had finally popped the question, and she had said yes. There was a wedding to help plan for.

They made sure never to bring up Mandy unless I asked them a specific question. Looking back, I guess it had become some stupid unwritten rule between us.

"Have you seen your mother lately?" I asked one Sunday evening while we were all at dinner, hoping to get a little insight into what she was doing.

"Once in a while," was Dawn's short response.

"How does she look? I haven't seen her in God knows how long."

"She looks good," was another quick and short answer. I felt like I was playing twenty questions, so I let it drop as Ronnie, Dawn, and Carrie watched me.

"What?" I finally had to say. I felt like I was being stared down for the tenth time tonight.

"You know Mom will, of course, be at the wedding," Ronnie reminded me.

"I would certainly hope so. You are her son, after all. What are you trying to say?"

What was said next hurt more than I could possibly imagine. "I think she's bringing a date

"Just don't tell me it's that prick, Rick?" I said too loudly. They were quiet. "Son of a bitch! Jesus fucking Christ!" This time I didn't care who heard me. "If she brings that cocksucker one of two things will happen, I will personally put him in the fucking grave, or he will me. Do you understand?" All three watched me going nuts in the middle of the restaurant.

"That asshole trashes my fucking marriage, and now she wants to bring him to my son's fucking wedding? If he comes, I won't be there. I'm not going to jail because of that fucking prick." I was so angry I was shaking. "Look, I need to go." When I stopped yelling they tried to say something. I simply could not listen to another word. I angrily threw down enough money to cover dinner and was out of there too quickly for them to say a thing.

If I had any wine in the house, I would have consumed it all and gotten falling down drunk. Instead I punched a couple walls bruising my hands in the process. At least I now knew what Mandy had been up to.

I tried to tell myself I didn't know why it had upset me so much, but I knew I wasn't fooling anyone except myself. I still cared for Mandy and my anger was just an outlet for the pain I was feeling inside. We were still legally married, but it was on paper only. We were living separate lives. I didn't even have a clue as to where she was living. I wondered if Rick had dumped his wife, or if he was just seeing Mandy on the side. Then I got angry all over again. I felt my dad's old anger rushing back.

"Mom said that if you can bring one of your new whores to Ronnie's wedding, she can bring whomever she wants," Dawn informed me over the phone Monday evening.

"Honey, who said I was bringing anyone? Sweetheart, I don't have anyone to bring. I'm not dating anyone at the moment and even if I was, I wouldn't be bringing her to Ronnie's wedding, this is supposed to be 'our' family time."

"Dad, why don't you just call her and straighten this out. I've never seen two such pig-headed people in all my life." I could tell from her voice she was pretty frustrated with the both of us.

"I told you before, if he comes I won't be there and that's that." I had gotten my back up and given everyone concerned an ultimatum.

"You would miss your only son's wedding?" Dawn asked, not really believing what she just heard.

"In a fucking heartbeat. If she hadn't gone out and cheated on me, we'd be going to the wedding of our son together. Next she's going to want that prick to sit at the fucking head table and toast the bride and groom. God damn, I hate that woman."

"Easy Dad, don't get yourself all worked up again. You don't have a clue what Mom is doing and with whom, anymore. And If I'm not mistaken, Mom was the one that wanted to get back together and you basically told her to go to hell. And just how long has it been, eleven months? You'd think that after all that time you would have let all your anger go and would have learned to relax a bit when her name is brought up."

"When you have given almost thirty years to your husband and he steps out on you, only then can you tell me to relax."

"God, it almost sounds like you're jealous and still in love with her." I didn't have anything more to say to her, so I kept my mouth shut. "Oh my God, you still are! Does Mom know? Why in hell haven't you talked with her? Holly shit, now I know why you are always so damn angry."

"Dawn, I've got to go. I'll call you later in the week." I had ruefully avoided answering her question and beat a hasty retreat, leaving, I know, a wide-eyed Dawn in my wake.

The week sucked after that phone call. Dawn and Ronnie both said I was to be at the wedding, no questions asked. Like hell I was! That mile wide, stubborn streak of mine was showing it's ugly head again. Fuck them all. Let Rick pay for my share of the wedding.

By Friday night I'd worked myself into another real tizzy, and worst of all, I had a date. I almost canceled, but figured I'd go nuts bouncing off the walls at home, and my hands had finally healed from my last tirade. I should have canceled.

It was Mandy this, or Mandy that, and that fucking prick Rick, all night. Thankfully my date put an end to it just after eight o'clock. That's when she threw her napkin down on the table in disgust.

"When you want to see me, without the ghosts of your not even ex-wife and her new boyfriend, give me a call, but not until then. And don't worry about driving me home I'll catch a cab." Can you say dumb ass?

It was a month before the wedding, and I still hadn't gotten fitted for my tux. Ronnie wasn't happy with me. He again told me to quit being so damned pig-headed. Did I mention that stubborn streak? I wrote Ronnie a big check and gave it to him the following Sunday at dinner.

"This should cover my share of the wedding," I said, handing it to him.

"You're coming, right?"

"Nope, but I'll be there in spirit." I can't even print what he told me after that. He stormed out of the restaurant in disgust shortly after ripping up the check and throwing it in my face. "That went well," I said. Dawn shook her head in indignation.

I could tell she was totally was disgusted with my attitude and behavior and she let me know it. "You're going to screw up your own son's wedding, you know that, don't you? All you have to do is come, have a good time, and keep your mouth shut for a change. You know how to do that, don't you?"

"I can't honey, I just can't."

"Dad, Mom said that she's coming alone, do you hear me? She's not bringing anyone. Why don't you just call her and tell her how you truly feel? I know for a fact that she'd like to hear from you."

"It doesn't make a difference any longer. Look, I haven't seen your mother since that final session we had in Dr. Cohen's office. I thought we had a chance, but between the two of us we killed what was left of our marriage. I loved that woman more than life itself, and I think it would kill me to see her again knowing she was with the guy that broke us up."

What I said next surprised even me. I guess it had been slowly growing inside me. "And even if he isn't there, she's not mine any longer. Instead of helping to solve our problems, all I did was push her away. I can see that now. I should have been the one to say I'm sorry, but now I can't. Again, I seem to be stuck and can't figure out how to get out of my self-created hole. So have a wonderful time, and please tell Ronnie not to be mad at me. I love him, I really do, but I just can't do it." After my admission, I saw the tears in Dawn's eyes. I know there were tears in mine.

"Dad, please?" She pleaded, but I had no more fight left in me.

I mailed another check to Ronnie. He could rip it up, but at least I wouldn't be there to see it. I then proceeded to make plans for that Saturday. I wanted to be as far away from Minneapolis as possible. I took Friday off, filled up my truck with gas, and headed north Thursday night. It was late, dark, and cold, when I got in some time around midnight. There were no lights on in Art's cabin and mine looked more like an unfriendly tomb. By one o'clock I was unpacked, a lot warmer, and had a glass of wine in my hand.

"To the dumbest son of a bitch in all of Minnesota," I said, toasting myself. I could see it clearly now, as if for the first time. If I hadn't come up here the last time, and had instead gone straight home and worked it out with Mandy, I wouldn't have to be up here again, hiding from myself and everyone else. Two more glasses of wine and I hit the bed. I couldn't sleep. All I could do was replay the last year over and over again in my mind. I wasn't right, I wasn't wrong, but sometimes being right doesn't solve your problems. It didn't make any difference anymore. I was all alone and fucking hated it.

Art waved to me the following morning probably wondering what the hell that son of a bitch doing up here again. At least there wasn't ten feet of snow this time. I'd brought up my new laptop, and though I had three unfinished stories I could have been working on, I just sat on the porch looking out the window. It was peaceful, but sad at the same time.

On the weekends, I had made it a ritual not to wear a watch anymore. It was my time, and since I didn't have any specific place to go, I really didn't want to know what time it was. So I sat, with a bottle of my favorite wine as my only companion, looking out the windows at the birds stuffing themselves with birdseed.

I could never retire up here like Art had. Yet it had been too long since we had been here as a family, and I missed those days. Oh well, just another one of those memories I could sock away with the old black and white photographs my dad left me.

I think I must have dozed off. My chin hitting my chest woke me up. It was starting to get dark and my legs were cramping up.

"It's about time you woke up," a voice from behind me said. "You still can sleep anywhere in any position, can't you?" I recognized the voice and thought I must still be dreaming, but after sitting up I realized I wasn't. She was leaning up against the kitchen counter, still dressed in her jacket. "I could have made off with everything in here and you probably still wouldn't have woken up." She smiled at me.

I looked at her, shook my head to clear it, thinking I was having a dream while being fully awake. Finally, I turned totally around to face her. We were probably twenty-five feet away from each other but it seemed like a mile.

"I see nothing has changed, you're still the same chatterbox you've become over the last year." She bridged the distance. "I understand you're not going to our sons wedding—any particular reason?"

I couldn't talk. I just sat there looking at her. God damn, was I pathetic or what?

"I also heard a rumor I need to substantiate," she said, walking even closer towards me as I finally got off my ass. "Someone said you still had feelings for me, hate, love, or something in between, is that true?" She never stopped moving towards me, bridging the distance. I finally willed my legs to move.

Two Farmers matches, that's all I can say. After our lips met, we exploded into a ball of fire. I don't think it would have made much difference, even if the space heaters weren't lit, because the cabin temperature must have gone up thirty degrees.

I had my bride, my wife, in my arms. Everything was a blur, something snapped inside me. Our clothes must have ignited and the ashes fallen to the ground, as we thrashed around on that king-size bed, switching positions maybe ten times over the next two hours. Neither one of us said a word, letting our lips do most of the talking while our bodies got reacquainted. God, I was in heaven, praying that this wasn't some sick dream from deep inside my subconscious, or perhaps the wine giving me a good time.

Drained, exhausted, and starting to get cold, we went deeper under the quilt. It wasn't a dream.

Mandy moved in a little tighter. "I thought this is where you would have headed, and Art confirmed it when I called him this morning. I'm glad my car has front wheel drive, or I never would have made it back in here."

"You could have called, I would have picked you up."

"Steve, you haven't picked up one of my calls in months. I couldn't take that chance, not this time, anyway." She was right—I probably wouldn't have picked up even this time. "Okay, now that I've got you where you can't run away, I want to talk." My stomach began to tighten.

"Can't we go back to what we were doing and talk later?" I gave her another deep kiss.

"We can do that later, if you still want after we get a few things straightened out." My palms started sweating and my mouth went dry.

"What do you want to drink, I think this is going to take us a while?" I asked.

I grabbed the bottle of wine from the porch, water from the refrigerator, two glasses from the kitchen, and hopped back into bed. Mandy had already put her tee shirt on. I took a long drink of water before handing the bottle to her. I poured a glass of wine for us, put the bottle on the nightstand, and got ready for whatever she was going to throw at me.

"All right, I'm ready," I said, taking a swallow of wine expecting her to rip into me.

When she propped up her pillow to face me I felt like Gary Cooper standing in the street in the movie High Noon. But then she smiled.

"First things first. You're going to your son's wedding, whether you like it or not, and that's that. I rented you a tux, and although it might be a little big on you, you're going. I don't want you to have regrets five years down the road that you missed it. I know Ronnie would be crushed if you weren't there on his special day."

"Okay, I'll go. Are we done now?" I said, putting my glass down and reaching for her.

"Mister, we're just starting," and she was right.

We had the talk that we should have had ten years earlier.

"Steve, I was wrong for what I did. I crossed the line and I'm very sorry. However, if it hadn't been Rick, it probably would have been someone else. My body was out of whack, and I was feeling like an old, dried up woman no one wanted, including you." I started to protest but she stopped me. "I already know what you're going to say. Please, just listen for a change. I know it isn't true in your eyes, but in mine that's what I saw. We became our parents. We stayed home most of the time doing what old people do. We vegetated and it wasn't just you."

"When Rick took an interest, I got excited for the first time in ages. My creative juices started flowing again and I felt re-energized. I never saw where it was going. I just went with the flow and was enjoying the ride. When it went beyond the classroom, I should have stopped it dead. I wasn't going to let it get out of hand, so what was the problem?" She took a long drink of wine, kissed me, and took a deep breath.

"The first night we danced, I knew I had crossed over the line. This wasn't just about schoolwork anymore. The second time we danced he kissed me. I didn't stop it because he caught me off guard, and it was over before I realized it. When Rick drove me back to my car at the college, he kissed me again, and again I didn't stop him. When I realized my blouse was partially opened and he was trying to get his hands under my bra, my brain kicked in. I told him it would never happen again. My emotions were on a roller coaster that wasn't stopping. I felt so bad about what I'd done, I cried all the way home. It was never going to happen again, I'd see to that. The following week after class we talked and it wasn't about any damn paper. He told me that he had feelings for me, and he wanted to pursue them."

My stomach tightened even more into one solid ball. Mandy had been looking directly into my eyes while she told me what had transpired, and now had this look of worry on her face.

"Mandy," I started to say, but she stopped me.

"Steve, please let me finish, because if I don't, I may never have the nerve again." I nodded, watching her dig deep for just the right words.