Page 4 of Pity Parade

I don’t let her finish. “Bye, Shel.” I push the end call button before flipping the switch to silence my notifications. I’ve already said my goodbyes to everyone else in my life, from my parents to my cleaning lady. My dry cleaner nearly cried. All that’s left now is to get into my car and drive away.

After wheeling two suitcases out of my bedroom, I look out the living room window one last time. Lake Michigan is gorgeous from forty floors up, but it’s nowhere near as beautiful as where I’m going.

Walking out of my condo feels like an almost transcendent experience. I’m finally taking real time for myself. No stress, no obligations, no one else to be accountable to. This is going to be the best summer of my life, I just know it.

I load the trunk of my car before pulling out of the underground parking garage. Then I take a right onto Lake Shore Drive and drive out of the life I so desperately need a break from.

Vintage Dire Straits serenades me until I’m out of the Loop, then I flip on the more dulcet tones of Bob Marley. I sway slowly as he sings about those three little birds on his doorstep. True to his message, I don’t worry about a thing.

Crossing the Illinois state line into Wisconsin, I finally turn off all sound and open my windows. I haven’t been back to Elk Lake since I was twelve years old, but that summer clings to my brain as the sweetest of memories. So much so, I promised myself I’d come back some day and try to recreate the easy-going summer I spent there with my family.

I even arranged to rent out the same place where we stayed, which was a small two-bedroom, one-bath cottage that shares a driveway and dock with the house next to it. The family who rented the other house had kids near Tyler’s and my age, and we became fast friends that summer.

I often marvel how children can open themselves to near strangers and develop bonds so deep they forever recall one another as great friends even though their relationship didn’t extend beyond those few glorious days of summer.

My head fills with plans, and I let myself imagine spending long days on a boat, fishing for my supper. I dream of building a fire on the beach and roasting my haul like a castaway starving for his next meal.

I used to think I’d buy a house in Elk Lake so my wife and kids could spend the summers there. I’d join them on the weekends, and we’d make our own magical memories. Unfortunately, things didn’t exactly go according to plan.

Jess and I got married right out of college when we were twenty-two. We had all the hopes you’d expect and were well on track to realizing them—she got pregnant when we were twenty-five and we celebrated by buying our first house. Life was so good I had to pinch myself to make sure it was real. Then came that awful day in mid-January when Jess was supposed to meet me at her ultrasound appointment.

I got nervous when she didn’t show up for her ten o’clock, but I didn’t panic. The weather was bad, and I was sure she was being extra careful. Ten thirty came and went, then eleven. That’s when the receptionist told me we’d need to reschedule.

I tried calling Jess once I got to my car, but there was no answer, so I decided to drive home and wait for her there. That’s where I discovered her body at the foot of the stairs. I knew immediately she was no longer with me. I later learned she’d had a brain aneurysm and had likely died before she hit the ground.

In a strange fog, the likes of which you don’t experience this side of the Twilight Zone, I called 911 and asked them to send an ambulance. The month that followed was the most horribly painful time of my life, and I swore I would never put myself in a situation where I would ever have to experience that degree of heartbreak again.

Within days, I buried my wife and our son and put our house on the market. I couldn’t stay in the sarcophagus of dreams that had no chance of being realized. Instead, I bought a condo in downtown Chicago and threw myself into work like it was my religion. Then I became successful beyond my greatest desires.

After a few years, my mom started asking if I ever thought I’d settle down again. I assured her I wouldn’t. It’s not that I have anything against love. Being in love with Jess was the best part of my life. What I had a problem with was having that love taken from me. Which was something I wasn’t going to let happen again.

While I haven’t lived the life of a monk in the last ten years, I have never given away my heart. If I ever felt someone was getting too close, or started to have ideas about a shared future I vowed we’d never have, I’d refocus on my work until she understood I wasn’t going to change for her.

Like the Bible and the Byrds both say, I’m a firm believer that for everything there is a season. My season as a husband and impending father was short but it was real. It’s also a thing of the past.

Turning into the driveway of my rental cottage, I’m assailed by memories so sweet they temporarily take the place of the painful recollections of my great tragedy. Getting out of the car, I check my messages and pull up the most recent one from the rental agency. At the front door, I type in the passcode before walking into my past.

Or future, depending on how you look at it.

CHAPTER THREE

TRINA

“I’d love a glass of champagne, if you’ll join me,” I tell Paige Holland, who’s sitting across the luncheon table from me at the Elk Lake Country Club. This is where we filmed the last season of Midwestern Matchmaker. Paige and her boyfriend Tim—the owner of the club—were two of last season’s singles.

“That’s sounds wonderful,” my lunch companion declares. Once the waiter leaves, she shakes her head. “I still can’t quite wrap my head around your being here.”

“I’m so sorry about how things went on the show,” I apologize for what feels like the millionth time. The thing is, I was part of a production that did them wrong, so as far as I’m concerned, I don’t deserve forgiveness.

Paige waves her hand in front of her face. “You made sure they never aired those horrible scenes and you’re the reason Tim and I got together. We’re good.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I think you would have eventually gotten there without me.” Paige and Tim went through school together and they have several mutual friends.

Pushing her menu aside, Paige declares, “Maybe or maybe not. But either way, we’ve got a new project, don’t we?”

I nod my head slowly. “We sure do.”

She claps her hands together excitedly. “Operation Find Trina a Husband!”

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