Page 74 of Ripple Effect
Elizabeth
“So, Cal began to resent your job?” Dr. Powell asks incredulously.
“It seems impossible, doesn’t it? But as Deja Vu became more and more successful, it seemed like I was arguing more and more about not being at home. Expansion meant more business, and more business meant more trips.” I shrug.
“As you turned thirty, you were on top of your professional game. Tell me about it.”
“I worked hard in the seven years since I started my business. I had a staff of eight full-time designers by that point, was turning over two million dollars of profit, and was featured in local magazines as well as a few national ones. Deja Vu was absorbing the energy my husband wasn’t around to receive.”
“Nor did you have a child to direct it to either,” Dr. Powell concedes.
“Exactly. But it turned out to be a good thing for Deja Vu. Being a business owner takes focus. Elon Musk once said being an entrepreneur is like staring into the abyss of death.” I shake my head. “I have a greater appreciation for that, and yet it still holds true. You don’t own your own business without being willing to give it everything.”
“And you did?”
“Where else was I supposed to direct my feelings?” I ask with a shrug.
“To your family some would say,” Dr. Powell challenges me.
I pause before responding, knowing my words hold significant impact. “We all get tired of trying to fight a battle where there appears to be no recourse. In my case, I was fighting against broken promises. When Cal bought into Alliance, he swore he’d make more time for us. That was long past. At what point was I supposed to stop waiting and start living? Because before long, I feared there wasn’t going to be much left for me to hold on to.”
“What do you mean?” Dr. Powell probes.
“I feel needy when I talk about this.” I shake my head.
“People who are in a loving, committed relationship should have certain expectations.”
“Fair enough. Cal had to go out of the country before my thirtieth birthday,” I begin.
49
Calhoun
Year Five - Six Years Ago from Present Day
“You’re packing again?” Libby walks into our bedroom just as I’m zipping the top of my black travel duffle.
“Yes. I just got a call from Sam a few moments ago. Something’s come up with one of our clients in Europe.” I hasten to add, “It should only take a few days. We’ll all be back in time for your birthday.”
I cringe on the inside as Libby shrugs. “If you can’t make it, just have Rebecca send me a message so I can cancel the reservation.” God, I really don’t want to miss this; it’s Libby’s thirtieth birthday. We’re all supposed to go out for a night on the town to celebrate, the same way we did for Iris’s.
“We’ll be back, Libby,” I say firmly.
“All right.” Her voice is understanding even as it’s bracing for defeat.
I don’t want her to prepare for anything. I want to be with my wife. “Only a few days, Libs.”
“Cal, it’s your job. I’ve lived it for how many years? Just let me know.” Turning, she slips out of the doorway, and I want to call her back. I want to make her understand if it wasn’t for the most dire of needs, I wouldn’t leave her side. But the boy in me who was left alone to grow up on my own can’t bear to imagine a child out there crying for parents who want their children back.
Grabbing my bag, I heft it from the bed. Making my way down the stairs, I stop by Libby’s office where she’s focused on something on her screen.
I wonder what it is. I didn’t used to have to; I used to know exactly what clients she had, what she was doing, who she worked with. Now, in so many ways, my wife is a beautiful stranger I’m dying to get to know again.
“All set?” Is her voice overly bright, or is that my imagination?
“Yeah. I have just a few minutes before Sam arrives to pick me up.”
Libby stands up and comes around her desk. Smoothing her hands over the lapels of my topcoat, she tips her head back. “Safe travels. Call me when you’re able to. I’ll let Rebecca know of any changes in my schedule.” She brushes a soft kiss against my cheek before starting to slide out of my arms.
