Page 56 of Everything We Thought Was True
“Well, what do you think?” Frank asked. He’d called Teresa to see if he could get the kids this weekend and take them out on the boat. Without her, of course.
“I’ll ask them later when they get home from after-school activities,” she said, already knowing how they would react. Anthony would immediately say yes, wide-eyed and excited to see his father, while Lena would shrug and say she was too busy with schoolwork and other activities. The kids had made it abundantly clear how they felt about their father’s departure from their home—her son was heartbroken and her daughter relieved.
Teresa thought back to the day, three months ago, when she’d asked Frank to leave. She’d come downstairs after an hour of sitting in her bedroom, crying her eyes out. Anthony was in the living room, eyes red and puffy from crying and mouth puckered as if he were sucking on something sour. Teresa wanted to reach out and stroke his hair and tell him she hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. She could see the questions in his eyes.
“It's your fault! You made him like this. You're too fat!” Anthony screamed.
Teresa stepped back, feeling like someone had punched her. Anthony’s face was red, eyes glaring, arms akimbo. Pain oozed out of herson, and Teresa could barely keep herself steady under the onslaught. Anthony was hurting just as much as she was—maybe more because he clearly had seen none of this coming.
“How could you let this happen? Why did you make Dad go?” Anthony wailed.
Ah, yes—there it is. Anthony had always been Daddy's boy, which had been adorable when he was a child. But it became less endearing as Anthony grew older and forgave Frank for every misstep while blaming Teresa for everything. It didn’t matter that Frank was a flirt, embarrassed Teresa in public, left her alone night after night, and was unfaithful. Anthony didn't see any of that. He only saw his father, the hero. So Teresa could understand why Anthony, in his furious defense of his father, came at her.
“I hate you!” he screamed, running past her into his room and slamming the door.
Teresa moved toward his room, ready to go after him, and then stopped. She slumped down in the chair in the living room, depleted. Anthony spent so much time with his father at the boat, while Lena spent most of her time with Teresa, doing errands and visiting family on weekends. Teresa could see the split now, and it all made sense. Lena was thinking of Teresa, alone all these years, crawling into an empty bed while Frank was in some man’s bed across town. For Anthony, the view was very different.
Teresa had to decide how much she should tell Anthony. The gory details of the illicit affairs behind Teresa’s back, on their own boat and who knows where else—what toll would that take on her son? She didn’t want to turn Anthony against Frank. But damn if she was going to take all the blame for what had happened here.
Teresa knew what she needed to give Anthony was time. And love. She could do that. She hoped he would come around and see what was really going on. His father wasn’t the hero Anthony thought he was. And she wasn’t the evil villain.
Frank’s voice brought her back to their conversation. “Okay, thanks for asking them.”
He was trying to be conciliatory these days, gingerly approaching sticky subjects. They were both navigating this new arrangement, and the results were clumsy, like toddlers learning how to walk, constantly in danger of toppling over. She was still in shock at all this and wondered if Frank was too. She knew she’d done the right thing by standing up for herself and asking him to leave. But that didn’t make it easy.
One difficult subject was that they needed to discuss money. Teresa stared at the pile of unopened bills spread on the counter, dreading what she’d discover when she opened them. She’d always worried about money. Watching her family barely squeak by during her childhood had left her with a nagging sense of scarcity. It was like a disease that had spread through her, coursing through her veins, staying with her into adulthood. Over the years of their marriage, she and Frank had gotten by, but she still carefully watched what she spent and made decisions with finances in mind.
With Frank no longer living under the same roof, she felt that old worry growing even stronger. She needed to get a job soon but was overwhelmed just thinking of where to start. Next week, she would make a plan.One thing at a time.
“Frank, we need to talk about money. Now that you’ve rented a place, there’ll be two rents to cover.”
“I can manage it, Teresa. The place isn’t expensive. It’s kind of a dump. I’ll land somewhere better, but for now, it’s fine. I don’t want to bring the kids there just yet, though. That’s why I want to take them to the boat, instead, this weekend.”
Teresa pictured herself in their very early years, sitting on the back deck of Frank’s boat, staring out at the water. She saw the whitecaps pop up and break the surface and then disappear. She’d never be able to look at the ocean without thinking ofFrank. It was one of hundreds of triggers that conjured him in her mind. She had these moments often. They were tied to certain songs, foods, phrases, and views. Even a smell could trigger a splintery recollection. She’d have to learn to live with them, like learning to live with a limp or low-grade pain.
The envelope of time was swallowing her. She wondered if she hadn’t already adjusted, however slightly, to Frank’s absence. How quickly the mind accommodated itself, even in such tiny increments. Perhaps after a series of shocks, the body acclimated itself, each subsequent shock bringing less impact. First, she’d lost her mother, then Frank. So much loss.
Sometimes Teresa felt like life was just a series of obstacle courses. It reminded her of Lena running the hurdles on the track. She would go around and around in a circle, gearing up to jump over a hurdle only to come down and get ready to jump over the next one—again and again and again.
“Also, if I come to get the kids this weekend, I can look at that leak in the bathroom,” Frank said, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Anthony told me it’s still acting up.”
She didn’t know if she wanted to see Frank or if she could handle it. She hadn’t set eyes on him since he’d left.Will he look different? What if he looks happier, more carefree?She sighed. That was what she should want for him, of course. And for herself—for both of them to be happy without the other. But it still hurt.
Teresa missed Frank. No, not really Frank himself but what he used to do for her. She realized how much she’d taken all the little things he did for granted. Not that she didn't appreciate him—she did. But it wasn’t until those things stopped that she understood what a good provider he was. If her car broke or the oil needed to be changed, all she had to do was mention it to Frank, and he would take care of it. If her brother Marco had gone on a bender and needed to be picked up at three in the morning on a street corner, all shehad to do was hang up and let Frank know, and he would put on his pants, get the address, and head out. No questions asked. He was a doer. Frank got things done. So even though he might not always have been emotionally present during their marriage, she missed the practicality of him. She wasn't making excuses for herself. She’d obviously stayed in the marriage way too long. But she was slowly figuring out why and forgiving herself for it. The only people who could truly understand a marriage—or any relationship—were the ones in it.
“Has enough time passed?” Frank whispered, and Teresa realized she’d been silent a while.
She wondered exactly how much time would be enough. “Honestly, Frank, I’m not even sure how to answer that.”
“Okay,” he said, tiptoeing around the awkwardness of the situation. “I won’t push. When you’re ready to see me, let me know.”
“I will. I just need more time.” She hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to share any more with him. Or whether he deserved it. But there had been too many lies for too long. Now was the time for honesty. “It’s hard for me, Frank. I’m here alone. And you have everything you wanted.”
“No, not everything. I don’t have my family. And I don’t mean only the kids. I mean you, too, Teresa. You’re the mother of my children. I don’t want us to be like strangers.”
“I don’t either, Frank,” she whispered, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “But I also know we can’t be what we used to be. It wasn’t good for any of us. Not for me, not for you, and not for the kids.”
Teresa took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She could survive this. She could survive most things. The most important thing was her children. That was what she needed to focus on. The rest was just details.
