"Jenny’s Dilemma" begins with the burning question, “Am I a good person doing a stupid thing or am I a stupid person doing a good thing?” As that dilemma is resolved, another dilemma takes its place. “Should I learn from my past and build a life alone and independent or should I take another chance on love and build a life with someone else while maintaining my independence?” Jenny struggles to learn if the second choice is a real option for her, given her strongly held values along with her continuing fears from her past.
With the help of friends and a caring community, this journey of self-discovery takes twists and turns both expected and unexpected. In the course of building a new and independent life, Jenny befriends a homeless young woman running from a physically abusive relationship. As she helps Maddie achieve safety and independence from her past, Jenny explores her own dilemma about her future. That dilemma is resolved in an unexpected way as the story ends.
Jenny woke early that fateful morning. As she stuck her feet in her slippers and stood up, her head throbbed, her stomach lurched, and the room went spinning. Ouch! She sat down on the side of the bed for a minute and then tried it again. Stumbling into the kitchen to plug in the coffeepot, her mind went back to the night before.
kitchen table to steady the room. She wondered if Thomas had enjoyed himself at her dinner party. Everyone thought she was insane to invite her ex-husband, but she couldn’t seem to cut him completely out of her life. After washing down two aspirin with her coffee, her head went from pounding to throbbing. What she needed was a long walk to clear the cobwebs—the cool September air would feel good. Breathing deeply as she walked settled her stomach and eased the remaining headache. She strode past Thomas’s house, but a block beyond it, she turned on her heel and went back. She would find out for herself if he had a good time last night. She rang the bell, and after several seconds, Thomas looked out to see who was there. His expression did not change, but he opened the door.
“Hi, Thomas. I was walking by and thought we might have a cup of coffee.” She touched his arm with her hand as she walked in.
“You can have one if you want. You know I hate coffee.” He stepped back to let her pass.
She long ago came to understand that his abruptness did not mean she was unwelcome. She went into the kitchen, where he kept instant coffee for her.
As she finished stirring the granules into the boiling water, she turned to look at Thomas. “Did I interrupt something?”
“You know I read newspapers in the morning. I wasn’t finished with them.” Both his voice and his face were devoid of emotion.
“Would you like me to leave?”
“No, I didn’t mean that.” Thomas turned and sat down at the kitchen table, and Jenny joined him.
By now, an old, familiar coldness enveloped her, and it had nothing to do with the ancient furnace. It was the coldness that fell on this house the night their daughter, Betsy, was killed in an accident.
“Did you enjoy the party last night?”
“It was OK. You know me—I don’t much care about parties.” His slumped posture and stoic face reflected his lack of engagement in the world around him.
“Well, I thought you might enjoy seeing Bill again. I know you don’t see him often.”
“That was nice. I didn’t enjoy anyone else.” While they talked, he folded the papers and put them aside.
“What do you mean?” It amazed her that he would not enjoy her eclectic mix of friends. The guest list included two musicians, a farmer, a retired carnival worker, an artist, and a poet. How could anyone not enjoy that?
“Well, Bill doesn’t act goofy like the rest of your friends.” The suffocating differences in their personalities sucked the oxygen out of the room.
“Who was acting goofy last night?” Jenny’s wrinkled brow reflected genuine bewilderment.
“Everybody except Bill.” “What are you talking about?” There was a sharp edge to her voice.
“Oh, it started with the stupid mannequin in the hall with a banana stuck in his pants. I can’t believe you did that, and those people thought it was funny.”
“Oh, Thomas! Won’t you ever learn to laugh and enjoy yourself ?” A sigh of exasperation escaped.
“Well, I don’t like people who act silly.” He smoothed the papers as he spoke.
That’s an understatement, thought Jenny. “Then I guess that means you don’t like me either.”
“Jenny, you know I like you—I just don’t like your friends.” It was time to leave.
Jenny stood up so suddenly that coffee sloshed all over the table. Her index finger jabbed his shoulder hard, and Thomas flinched. She leaned over close to his face and looked him dead in the eye. “Well, Thomas, I am through trying. Ever since Betsy died, you stay holed up in this house, trying to keep the world and your own feelings at bay, and it has gone on for too long. It killed our marriage and may well kill you, but I’ll be damned if I will let it kill me. If you don’t want to be a part of life anymore, fine. I will not bother you again.”
With that, she walked through the hall and out the door. Just for good measure, she slammed it behind her. She knew how much he hated confrontation and slamming doors. That would be her final gift to him—annoyance multiplied by two. Screw him.
Jenny stormed into her condo. “Damn that son of a bitch,” she muttered. Still fuming, she went in to take a shower. She was as angry with herself as she was with Thomas. Why did she keep herself tied to someone who only wanted to be left alone and miserable? Was it an obligation she felt, as she often explained to her friends, or was it something else? Maybe it was a neurotic need not to admit failure. She could tell this was going to be a long day of back-and-forth thinking. The hot water beating down on her relaxed her knotted muscles. Years of frustration, hurt, and anger seemed to cling to her skin. She scrubbed herself with the ferocity of a surgeon scrubbing up for the first time. After her shower, she continued thinking about the morning’s unpleasantness. She had done this emotional dance with Thomas for a long time. It might be time to stop the music and leave the dance floor. She wondered if she knew how to do that.
In the kitchen, she poured hot water into her cup and let the tea steep. When she could smell the peppermint, she wrapped the string of her tea bag around the spoon to squeeze every drop of liquid from it. That is what Thomas does to me. When I am around him, he squeezes the last drop of liveliness right out of me. The thought that she might need to stop allowing that was beginning to be an itch that needed scratching. She took her tea into the living room and picked up the book she had started reading a few days ago. However, her mind kept wandering back to the scene with Thomas and the absolute rage she felt about it. She closed the book and gave in to her thoughts. How could he be so uninterested in life? Why did he live that way? And the most important question of all—why did she keep trying to include him in life? In her life, in particular. She got up and began to pace. Pacing helped her to think. She went from room to room and around again. Something needed to change. It was not going to be Thomas. What should she do differently? Maybe she just needed to come to terms with the possibility that she still loved him. But how could that be true? God, how sick was that! She always knew the questions. The answers were infinitely more difficult.
They had divorced several years after their daughter died, when they began this dance of not wanting each other and not letting each other go. Was that love, desperation, or a sense of obligation? That it could be any of those was upsetting to Jenny. She knew one thing: she had to reach some decisions. The time had come to do something different. She continued pacing and thinking. After an hour or so, she went about her daily chores, still ruminating about her life and continued attachment to Thomas. When she looked out and saw the twilight changing to darkness, she realized she was no closer to answers than she had been in the morning. Her only certainty was that the status quo could not continue. She deserved a whole life—not a half life. Things had to change. But how?
After dinner, she pulled on a sweater and walked around the block in the cool night air. The exercise felt good and, as always, helped to calm her jumbled thoughts. It always came back to her looking foolish by staying involved with Thomas or appearing uncaring if she deserted him in his old age. In reality, she did not want to be either foolish or uncaring. Damn, what a day this has been. She would be happy to crawl under the covers and lose herself in delicious sleep—if that were possible.
As she tried to put these thoughts away for the night, the phone rang. The digital clock showed 9:00 p.m. That was late for someone to be calling her. Late-night phone calls always made the hairs on her arms stand up and gave her that cold, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was the one thing about Betsy’s death she had not been able to overcome. “Hello?” She listened intently to the person on the other end. “Are you sure?” The mood of the room shifted as she waited for a reply. “When did this happen?” She listened even more intently this time as the color drained from her face. “I’ll be right there.” The “but how” question had been answered for her. She threw on her coat and went out into the night. As she headed for the cold house a few blocks away, she knew her life would never be the same again.