“I’ll read it tonight.” I won’t, but I pick up the papers and give them a good shake to show Terence I’m serious. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
He rises slowly from one of the chairs that sits in front of my desk. He looks at me doubtfully but finally nods and makes his way to my office door. With his hand on the knob, he turns and looks at me. It’s not a smile on his face or a frown but a look of confusion. I stand there, with my wool coat resting over my arm, waiting for him to say something, and when he decides to leave instead of confronting me, my shoulders sag in relief. Without any hesitation, I pick up the dark yellow packet and drop it into the bin destined for the shredder.
Outside, the sights, scents, and sounds of Christmas are all around me. The town recreation department spent most of the afternoon putting up the park’s Christmas tree in preparation for the lighting ceremony. Carolers are on the street corner, singing their hearts out, and the coffee shop has a line out the door, likely to get hot cocoa or a warm cup of apple cider.
There were many times after I’d leave work that I’d find Gwen and Ruby waiting in line. I look now, hoping to catch them, but I know I won’t. It’s too early, and Ruby’s still in school. That thought pulls me to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. People smile, call my name, and wish me a merry Christmas as they walk by, but I’m focused on my thoughts. My daughter should be out of school right now, and I should be at work. It’s rare that I ever leave early, and according to Gwen, when I do, I’m angry, resentful, and often complaining about the work I’ve left behind. Yet, because of Jerry, I’m on my way to my one-room apartment at the Cozy Cottage with my college-size refrigerator and portable hot plate to get ready for his party instead of being a father and following through with my promise to my daughter. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
Instead of heading to my apartment, I cross the road and walk toward the church, hoping to catch Gwen before she takes Ruby inside. People stop, wanting to talk, telling me how sorry they are for what I’m going through and inviting me to their home for the holidays. I hadn’t even thought about where I’d spend Christmas, because I honestly thought Gwen and I would make up. But how can we, if I’m not willing to make the changes needed to keep my family together?
By the time I reach the church, the parking lot is full. I walk around back, stopping to look into one of the windows. Years ago, Reverend John asked us all to come together to create steps and install larger windows so the basement could meet the fire code and be used for functions. I’ve never been more thankful than I am n
ow that I helped, because it’s giving me a chance to watch my family.
My wife has her hair up in one of those buns that she rarely leaves the house wearing. I put her in that position when I told her I couldn’t take Ruby. My daughter’s sitting at one of the tables, by herself, slowly decorating a cookie while all the other children are laughing and happily putting the packages together that they’ll deliver to all the local businesses. Their unhappiness is because of me.
I stand there until I start to shiver, but I don’t leave. I sit on the bench outside, waiting for them to come out. I don’t know what I’ll say to them, because telling them I’m sorry doesn’t seem like it’ll be enough.
Gabe sits down next to me and hands me a foam cup. “You look sad.”
“That obvious?”
“I know sadness,” he says, taking a sip of his own cup. Undoubtedly, he has a story to tell. Maybe he’s a war veteran who suffers from PTSD and left his family behind, or maybe he’s like me, a workaholic who didn’t spend enough time with his family. For all I know, he gave everything up and never looked back. Maybe life’s easier this way.
“Are you a member of this fine establishment?” Gabe nods toward the white church.
“I used to be but haven’t been in a long time.”
“So you sit outside and wait for an invitation?”
“My family is in the basement. I was supposed to be there, but I let work get in the way.”
“And you can’t go see them?”
I shake my head. “My wife … we’re separated, and I haven’t done a decent enough job to show her how much she means to me.”
“Am I to understand that you don’t want this separation?”
I shake my head. “Not in a million years, but I’ve been a bad husband and my wife and daughter deserve better.”
“I’m sure you don’t want my advice.”
I look over at the disheveled man. “I’d happily take advice from you.”
He turns and smiles. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. Corinthians, chapter thirteen, verse four.”
The way Gabe speaks, so eloquently and full of truth, I have no choice but to get lost in his words he speaks. I let them all sink in and repeat them in my head, over and over again until he stands. “Wait.” I reach for him, grabbing his hand so he doesn’t leave me. “It can’t be that simple. Gwen knows I love her.”
“Does she?” he asks. I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. I let go of his hand and watch him walk away until I can no longer see him. The alarm on my phone goes off. It’s the reminder I set for Jerry’s party. I silence it and turn back toward the church to wait for my family.
Chapter Four
Gwen
The phone in the kitchen rings. In my heart, I know it’s Rory. It’s too early to deal with him, so I ignore it, hoping he leaves a voice mail or sends me a text message. When the ringing stops, I sigh, only to have my heart pound out of my chest at the sound of Ruby squealing in delight. I rush downstairs with my robe flowing behind me as if I’m a superhero. Only I’m not. I’m a wreck who can’t be bothered to do her hair, put makeup on, or even take a shower most days.
“Ruby, who’s on the phone?” I know the answer, so I’m not sure why I’d ask her. I’m tempted to take the receiver away from her, to hang it up and shoo her upstairs to get ready for her concert, but I don’t. I can’t even bring myself to get ready for tonight. I think, if I were to look like the old Gwen, the parents would be shocked. They’re so used to this mess of a woman I’ve become.
“Daddy,” she says, covering the bottom of the phone. I want to laugh and tell her she’s cute, but I don’t. “He’s talking to me.”