Picking flatware had been a labor of love. Not only did it have to be a complete set, able to serve twelve, but it had to be more than functional. It needed to be solid, stylish and until today, always served Lacy well.
The flash of lightning, followed by an almost-immediate boom of thunder caused Lacy to jump. The table knife slipped from her fingers and landed handle down on her left middle toe. The throbbing did not stop for more than an hour. There was no doubt the nail would eventually come off. Ice was melting, saturating the towel, dripping water on the floor.
The rain continued, and Lacy’s Walk, an effort to fill part of her day, and burn a few calories, had to wait for another time. Multiple resumes, individualized for each prospective employer, had been mailed, with no response of any kind. Any job would be considered. Anything to generate some income and shift her focus to positive actions. LinkedIn has not provided any leads. Contacts at the employment agencies have not returned any calls.
Since getting the divorce papers in November, there had been no support from or even serious conversations with the three kids. She suspected the boys wouldn’t get in the middle of a divorce, but some female empathy from Gabby, her daughter, had been expected. Yet, it would be nice to get a call from at least one of them and check on her. She got tired of calling them for updates or just a chat.
The divorce from Steve was dragging out, with no date for the final paperwork to be signed. Gabby’s fight over the Will and Trust was starting, and she was sure the court would rule for the family instead of a soon-to-be ex-daughter-in-law. For now, money isn’t an issue. That would not be the case forever. She wasn’t even sure what to do about finances once the divorce was final. Without some level of income, she would have to sell the townhouse. Retirement was years away. The idea of losing all of her resources created agony similar to early labor pain levels. It might get worse and there was no epidural she could request.
After the date with Roger, she questioned whether any males in Wisconsin or Colorado were worth considering. Roger didn’t even have the decency to be subtle about wanting to be intimate. Lacy, believing Roger to be a year or two older than her, didn’t imagine he would have the attitude of the younger generation about hooking up so quickly, but that was no reason to be taken for granted.
Finally, sitting by the window and watching the rain fall, she thought back over her life. Lacy had been the good girl. The prototypical middle child who was always trying to appease, making concessions in the interest of doing what was best for the family. College to make her parents happy, moving for Steve’s, her soon-to-be ex-husband, career, and babysitting when it was inconvenient or when asked at the last minute. Go along to get along.
As she massaged her sore toe, watching the dark clouds overhead, she tried to develop a mental list of her accomplishments. She has a college degree, is pleased she’s a mom and grandmother, and feels she has been the supportive wife to Steve and his goals. Then she ran out of highlights. What could she include now that made her happy?
Not divorce. After more than thirty years of marriage, it wasn’t her idea. Moving for Steve’s jobs and constantly finding temporary friends was tiresome.
Taking care of Shirley, her mother-in-law, for the months before her death had been gratifying but not a happy time. Steve finding a girlfriend did not seem out of character for him. There had been suspicions of cheating over the years. Maybe, when she was un-married, happiness could be possible.
Who is she kidding? No one can push a button or turn a corner and be happy. Dating didn’t work. It seemed she attracted the same personality when she had an active marriage, what’s the term, fleabagging. No job offers. The wives from Steve’s work group had disappeared. Out of sight, out of mind.
Lacy sat, watched the rain, and started to cry. The guy she dated had treated her the same way Steve did. It had to be her. She felt there would never be anyone in her life that cared for her. She had heard that every relationship was one hundred percent give. Sometimes, between the two partners, it was fifty-fifty; other times, it might be ninety-ten. Or ten-ninety. For her, it seemed like all her relationships were ninety-ten. She had given herself away to make others happy.
Never high on self-confidence, the little she had was nearly gone. Who cares? Would anyone miss her for more than a few days? Nothing had gone right, and she was weary from it.
Logging into her computer, she started to search for ways to end her anguish. It had to be quick; she wasn’t brave enough to suffer. Look and see what would be the least messy. How hard would it be to get some pills and take a bunch? Maybe sit in the garage with the car running. Poison might not work, and it could be painful. Is there a way to make it look like a crash while driving? Oh, don’t want that after Doug and Shirley’s accident, and it’s possible to only get a serious injury.
The mood darkened, and crying changed to sobbing. After looking at methods to kill herself, Lacy decided she wasn’t even good enough to make a decision about that.
Getting up to get a glass of wine, she discovered there wasn’t even a partial bottle. How dumb is that? Lacy is the only occupant in the townhouse, and it was her task to buy wine. Another simple chore she failed at. Tears started anew before she had taken two steps. She wondered if there was anything she had done correctly the entire week.
Sitting on the couch sobbing, she finally started to laugh, a frustrating laugh. It was to the point that there couldn’t be much more to go wrong. You know the old joke, cheer up; things could be worse, so I cheered, and sure enough, they got worse.
As afternoon turned to evening, Lacy got mad. The good kind of mad. Why would she make it easy on Steve? If she died, he wouldn’t have to finalize the divorce. Even worse, he would get her townhouse. He walks away, told that he’s better off. His wife had to have problems, or she wouldn’t have killed herself.
“Stop it.” She said out loud. Not sure why since no one was going to hear the comment.
“I deserve better. I tried to be a good wife. I tried to be a good mother. I took care of Shirley. It’s always been me helping others. Now, dammit, now, It’s my turn.”, she said slamming the wet towel in the sink.
Lacy had her latest pity party, and this session was over. She wasn’t sure how, but she would find a job. It might even be at one of the big box stores. Start somewhere, do something. If she ever dated again, it would be when she was ready and not because she felt the need to be with someone.
It was too late tonight, but tomorrow she was going shopping. Get a new outfit or two just because she wanted to. Maybe it’s time for a new hair color, and there was no question: schedule a manicure. Change the wording in the resume and adjust the format.
The daily mail was still in the box outside. Most of what came in was advertising or solicitations for donations. Lacy wondered how they could find the new address so quickly after moving. Scanning the day’s delivery, a flyer for a health club offered a discount for new members. Losing a few inches and pounds would be a good idea. At least it would fill a few hours each week.
Lacy consciously decided to leave off all make-up as she looked in the mirror while brushing her teeth. No longer did she need to make an attempt to impress anyone. It’s her turn, and the most important person from now on is the one in the mirror.
Even the mother-daughter relationship with Gabby, which has devolved into more of a babysitting role, would need changing. Wondering what impact it would have when visiting the grandkids, she caught herself and decided it was time for adults to be adults. Gabby would have to adapt.
Wars are seldom won in one battle. Little skirmishes help change life and move toward victory. Decisions made each day that turn out positive can be thought of as little skirmishes. Each small step of progress is needed to find a silver lining to the pending divorce.
She was determined to follow up on last night’s shopping and pampering decisions, and find a new outfit, or two, or three. Stop by the health club for a tour, then spa time with a manicure or splurge with a pedicure.
The health club visit turned into a membership and an appointment with a personal trainer. Lacy surprised herself with the newly recognized freedom, decision-making and goal-setting.
