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eighty f

A New World

O n Sunday morning, I headed to my regular AA meeting. I’d gotten no sleep the night before, but I needed the group support. I can’t say the meeting lessened my pain, but I left with new resolve, which lasted until I came home to an empty house. Most of Nick’s things still coexisted with mine, reminding me of yet another failed relationship.

Although Warren and I were still close, we saw less of each other since I’d moved. Distance wasn’t all that was keeping us apart. He’d found a girlfriend, who was now his fiancée.

I needed to hear his voice, so I called him.

“Hi, Warren.”

“Ava! How’s it goin’?”

“Terrible.” I broke into a wave of tears.

He waited patiently for me to regain control. I told him about Nick. Although he gave me words of support, I sensed an “I told you so” in the background.

“Do ya want me to come down and sit with ya?”

“No, just hearing your voice makes me feel better.” I didn’t want to take him away from his new life, nor did I want him making the long drive by himself.

We talked until I was spent.

I’d stayed alone many nights, but this time felt different. I wanted to wall off Nick’s side of the bed and pretend it didn’t exist. I fell into a difficult sleep, filled with images of my past.

It was dark when I awoke. I checked the time—four in the morning. I’d slept eight hours but was still exhausted. While my coffee brewed, I pulled out a notebook and made two columns. The first I titled, “What I’ve Done Wrong,” the second, “What I’ve Done Right.”

Column one went on for three pages, starting with my marriage to Tom and ending with my marriage to Nick. I had two entries in column two: career and sobriety.

Through all my sadness, I never craved a drink or any kind of drug. And I never thought about changing careers.

For the moment, my depression lifted, but it returned full force when I arrived at work. Suzi immediately knew something was wrong. She comforted me as only a true friend could.

“That bastard doesn’t deserve you,” Suzi said. “You’ve always been there for him. When was he there for you?”

I knew she was right. “But why didn’t I see it coming?”

“You’re in love with the idea of him. That clouded your vision.”

“How’d you get so wise?”

“Been there, done that,” she replied. “C’mon, we’ve got a busy day.”

I immersed myself in work and pushed Nick to the back of my mind.

When I got home that evening, Nick’s personal things were gone. He’d left me with everything but our large-screen TV. I searched for a note but found none.

Sadness overwhelmed me. I imagined myself a lonely old woman living out her days in a New Jersey suburb.

Reality hit two weeks later when I sat down to pay our monthly bills. I called Nick at the paper to ask for his share of the expenses.

“I can’t help you, Ava. I’ve got bills of my own to pay.”

“I can’t do this alone!”

“Your name’s on everything. The bills are yours.”

I nearly threw the phone across the room.

“And I’ve got a divorce to pay for. Don’t call me again.”

And with that, Nick Ravelli was out of my life.

Money was tight but I managed to keep up the mortgage payments. I bought nothing but a second-hand TV. I lived on frozen dinners and went out only to work and AA meetings. By October, I’d resigned myself to my new life.

Then I received the divorce papers.

Nick asked for nothing. The condo and everything it contained belonged to me. If I could hold on until the real estate market picked up, I could sell and move to an apartment. But day by day, my finances dwindled, and my depression flourished.

It was another lonely evening—just a TV dinner and me—when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s Lee.”

“Lee! It’s wonderful to hear your voice.” Was my son calling to reconcile with me?

“I’m calling to tell you Tommy’s getting married.”

My boy is getting married!

“His fiancée’s parents have no money. I asked Dad for help, but he can’t pay for the entire wedding. I’m asking you to chip in.”

“I’m so sorry. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. My husband left me with nothing except bills.”

“Another husband? How many is that?”

I ignored his question and asked, “How are you doing?”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about doing what’s right for my brother, your son.”

“I just can’t. When is the wedding?” Why wasn’t I invited? Why hadn’t Tommy called?

Lee’s voice took on a bitter note. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Lee, I—”

My son interrupted. “Don’t misconstrue my call. I want nothing to do with you. This is only about Tommy.”

His bitterness drove a knife into my heart. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I want to make things right with you.”

A hollow dial tone was his response.

If I thought my depression couldn’t go deeper, I was mistaken. Lee’s words broke my heart into more jagged pieces. I knew I’d lost him ten years ago, but I thought Tommy and I had a chance. How could he leave me out of his wedding?

I left him out of my weddings. Guess he learned by example.