The Gift, page 30
You can say that again. Although, I’m also at fault.
“I’ll go,” I volunteer. “I feel misunderstood when you don’t listen to my needs.”
“There you go again, blaming me for things I don’t even understand!” he yells.
“Christian, I’m trying to tell you something here. I want to feel heard, seen.” I pause. “I want my old husband back.”
Wanted.
Anger withholds the tears building behind my eyes. How can he be so unaware of how he’s changed? Sweat starts to form above my socks, and I uncross my ankles, sliding closer to the opposite end of the couch from him.
“Toni, when you”—he catches himself—“I feel frustrated hearing you say that about me. I also don’t know what you mean, as I keep telling you.” Frustration oozes from every pointed word.
“Good rephrase, Christian.” Jillian nods repeatedly across from us in her comfy-looking armchair.
He continues, “I don’t like upsetting you, Toni, though you may not believe it.” He mumbles the last part but turns his head to peer at me.
His words aren’t enough anymore. I need action. My eyes meet his, and all I feel is sorrow for the person he’s become, whereas in the past, his backpedaling would have made me yearn for more semi-kindness. He doesn’t even know who he is anymore, not able to see past his own nose.
Throughout the session, Christian’s bite lessens, and I appreciate his efforts, but I can’t take any of his words as truth anymore. I deserve more than this with a partner. And it’s time to admit something fully to myself.
My marriage is over.
Chapter Sixty
By the time day one as a cellist in the LA Philharmonic rolled around—words that are still surreal—I convinced myself that being there was the perfect combination of my desires. I could fulfill my childhood dream for a few measly years while working toward my ultimate adult dream. It seemed realistic.
But now, after the daily morning rehearsals and multiple evening concerts in this first week, my neck is on fire in a way previously unknown—or expected. There hasn’t been enough ice and topical ointment in the world to ease the flames burning inside my muscles. Not even the first concert’s emotional boost could overpower the physical ailment I’ve had for almost as many years as I wanted to sit in that chair. And going home at the end of the night hasn’t been a picnic either. It’s just what every woman wants…tightness in her neck, with a rigid schedule to boot, and a tight and rigid husband too. A pain on both ends of the body, if you know what I mean.
Christian has been showing up in a new way since the counseling appointment. He’s making a point of using the word I to begin statements, then spews verbally aggressive, toxic words after it. Yeah, I see his abusive behavior clearer now than ever before. Nobody should be spoken to in this manner, and I need more respect.
So, with being stuck in rehearsal, driving back and forth in traffic to the Walt Disney Concert Hall, then needing to practice for more hours on my own, this is not exactly how I imagined the work-life balance of a professional concert cellist. I knew there’d be an adjustment period, but this will be my schedule forever, and ever and ever, and nooo! Now, another clarity is that owning a winery is not a replacement dream. It’s the dream.
Slipping on my black flats under my long black concert skirt as I prepare to leave my apartment for my second performance with my new team, I receive a call from a newly recognized number. Moments later, I sit on my bed, holding my chest in the triumph that just occurred.
I got approved for the loan.
“Nala, can you believe it?”
She responds by arching her tiny neck and prancing toward my feet.
I pick her up to hug her, not caring that I’ll need to lint roll her sandy-colored hair off of my white shirt before I leave. “I got it. I flipping got it.”
Purrrr.
“Yeah, you purr away. I would if I could.” The stillness of the minute sends a wave of calm over me in this strange week. But another wave is riding its tail.
What if I threw all caution to the wind and accept the loan? What if that vineyard is still for sale and I make an offer? Right now. Not three years from now on some second-rate land. What if…
Petting Nala puts me in a trance as I fade into fantasies of kicking off these flats, ripping off these clothes, and throwing on my favorite torn jeans, T-shirt, and good old red sneakers. I’m transported back to those vines on the land calling my name. Impulse is that wave coming up to capture me and carry me to faithful ground. The midlife crisis is complete! Uh, minus a sports car.
I chuckle, thinking how I used to fear making my own decisions, but now I go with instead of against.
After placing Nala on the bed, I touch a few buttons on my phone, still sitting in peaceful bliss. “Lesley?”
“Hello, Toni. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful, and I have good news… I got approved for the loan and want to bid on that property. Is it still on the market?”
The seconds that pass between my question and her response feel like an eternity. My heartstrings are strumming for dear life. Come on, say yes.
“In fact, it is, sweets.” Her voice quenches my thirst.
“Oh, thank God. Let’s make an offer.”
Chapter
Sixty-One
I’ll probably go down in history as the person who tried to get a spot in a renowned orchestra her whole life then only worked there a week. Although I informed the director I’d give plenty of notice and stay as long as desired, he expressed no concern, able to fill my spot almost immediately. I’m sure. I mean, I was one of those people who would’ve jumped at the chance to join LA Phil not that long ago.
Barely recognizing the new-and-improved version of me—a woman who can make hard life decisions and vocalize them confidently—I’m entering this counseling appointment to shed yet another bit of news. I needed to wait until we were in a safe place because who knows how much Christian will flip his lid. The flipping is predictable, but the amount is TBD.
Jillian begins the session by asking, “How’ve you two been this past week?”
I turn my body on the couch to face Christian and watch his lips part, so I shut down any words to come from them and exclaim, “I want to tell you something.” This is happening N-O-W.
His head whips backward as a crease forms between his brows. “What?” His attitude is thick with annoyance.
“Go ahead, Toni.” Jillian turns up the palm of one hand in a forward motion.
“I quit LA Phil and have made an offer on a property in Temecula Valley.” My eyes remain focused on the man I once adored.
“You what?!” His sharp words pierce the air.
“I had to.” I would’ve thought I’d say my words in fear, yet there’s nothing but steady truth.
“Tell us more, Toni,” Jillian encourages. Glancing at her facial expression, I think I blindsided more than Christian.
“I can’t be stuck another moment in my life. Being in LA Phil was not what I thought it would be…or maybe it was too late for the person I really am.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You finally got what you wanted, can be secure for another thirty years with money, benefits, and only one job, yet you decide it’s not good enough for you anymore? You’re not the woman I married.” He shakes his head.
“I agree. And that’s my second thing to share. Christian, I’m leaving you.”
His mouth drops open.
I continue, “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You don’t?” He cuts me off. “You’re doing a bang-up job of it.”
“It’s not my intent. I just need to do what’s best for me, and unfortunately, that’s not continuing in this marriage.” Even though I’m the one who decided to make all of these changes, sharing this one out loud is still one of the most difficult things I’ve ever said. The man sitting in front of me is someone I committed my life to, vowing to stick with him through thick and thin, and my old best friend. But I’m not a psychic and couldn’t have seen the emotional abuse to come when we said, “I do.” That’s not what I signed up for, and my heart is done with trying to repair the broken bond.
“Well, best of luck with trying to grow your little grapes and actually make a living. You have no idea what you’re doing and will come running back to the good life I’ve provided you. You’re throwing away a real career to run around in plants. Good going, you idiot.”
Point proven. There’s no use in going back and forth on opinions since I know he thinks he’ll win in the end. Actually, I bet that’s why he’s enraged—his ego is bruised. He doesn’t care about losing me—well, I’m sure a little—but he cares about not being the one to call the shots, losing the power. Uh-huh, that makes sense. Oh, and losing his precious money to buy a house since I’ll get half of our savings. Good thing I saved student lesson money too. Maybe Pietro whispered that warning to me—Toni, save your money so you can carry on the family business and save yourself.
“Financial discrepancy is one of the leading factors of divorce,” Jillian breaks her silence.
Wow, I must have really thrown her. That statement doesn’t help; it hurts.
I never thought I’d be a divorced person. I also never thought I’d be sitting in a counseling appointment with the love of my life. I could go on and on with the never-would’ve-known aspects of my life…
Christian stands up. “I’m not getting divorced.” He walks toward the door.
Jillian unlatches her legs and stands along with him. “Please stay, Christian. You’re shocked, and that’s okay. Let’s talk through this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about because nothing’s happening.” He crosses his arms. “I won’t allow her to leave.”
“Christian, Flora already took Nala to her apartment, and I drove here separately for a reason. My bag is packed to stay with her for a little while. I’m not going to be talked down to anymore or told what to do. We’re done.” Carrying on with my soft but firm tone, I lift the hair from the back of my neck to air out the building clamminess.
“You really are a different person now.” His face turns red. “How could you do this to me?”
Are his eyes growing wet?
No. I refuse to say I’m sorry anymore, even if he’s going to cry. I’m not sorry for saying what needs to be said. I’m only sorry that our marriage wasn’t what I once thought. “I don’t want to do anything to you. I just want happiness for both of us. It isn’t fair to have either of us living the way we have, separate but pretending to be a union. This has been a long time coming.”
He opens the door and proceeds to slam it shut.
My mouth angles upward on one side as my heart sinks.
Jillian captures my attention away from staring at the bottom of the closed door. “Let him cool down and process what you said.”
I think she needs to as well, according to her succession of blinking.
“I knew he’d take it hard.”
“Let’s talk about you.” She shifts gears, helping me to work through my feelings and scheduling individual counseling for the future.
Only worrying about my needs is a breath of fresh air. Add it to my budding list of wide-open possibilities and upcoming freedom.
Chapter
Sixty-Two
Letting a few days pass before entering my apartment, I purposely go when I know Christian will be there. My hope is to have a civil, tranquil parting, but odds warn me to be on guard. Fingers crossed that we can talk like two adults.
Unlocking the door, I walk into the foyer and drop my duffle bag on the floor. Already missing Nala’s greeting, I place my keys on the counter and, since I don’t see Mr. Sunshine, walk into the bedroom. “Hey.”
He turns around, standing at the bathroom sink. “Already came crawling back?”
Oh Lord.
“Actually, I came to see if we can somehow remain living together until we find other places to live.” Leaving Nala at Flora’s for the time being was smart since we’re off to a great start here.
“I don’t know how, unless you take back what you said.” He leans against the counter.
“Um, which part?” I also lean, on the door frame.
Rolling his eyes, he continues, “All of the parts, especially how you want a divorce.”
“You had to feel this coming too.” My head falls on the frame.
“Have there been hard times between us? Yes. But that’s what all couples go through.” Looking to the side for a second, he brings his focus back on me and says, “We’re stronger than that.”
Hearing the couples line I reassured myself with for years reassures me in a new way. “We may be stronger without each other at this point, I’m sad to say.”
He pushes his hair behind his ears and swallows hard. “I don’t want this to happen,” he admits. Staring at his feet, he continues, “And I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my Tone Tone.”
Have you ever heard something full of meaning and simultaneously have it lose all its meaning in one fell swoop? The air deflates out of the once-full balloon where my heart expanded in love for this man in front of me. All I hear now is the whoosh of air escaping so renewed air can replace it and save its life’s journey.
My God, I’m honestly not sure if he’s acting at this point, trying to keep control, or genuinely caring. I wonder if I’ll ever know which was which over time. And there’s such irony in his words—he’s the one not wanting to be alone now. Oh, how the tide has changed.
“I hear you, Christian, but my choice remains the same.” I still really want to say I’m sorry but refuse myself the comfort. Growing pains are called pains for a reason. “Now, I will leave something up to you.” Throwing him a bone, I repeat, “Do you want to live together while the paperwork is in process? I can sleep in—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He holds up his hands, palms facing me square in the face. “There’s no need to rush this. How about we try a separation, some space, since you don’t seem to have sense about us?”
“No, I’d like to move forward with a divorce.” The more times I say the D word, the easier it gets. Not that it’s easy, don’t get me wrong.
“And you want to live together? Toni, please.” He sneers. “I don’t think so. You can pack your stuff and leave.” He waits a beat then adds, “How dumb can you be?”
Instead of arguing, I stand back on my feet without the support of the frame, knowing separation from him is far from dumb. “I’ll leave because I want to leave, not because you demanded me to.”
While I load my bag with more items for an extended stay at Flora’s, I try to tune out Christian’s whining about how awful of a person I am, echoed by the walls of the bathroom tile. And how someone that’s a true wife would never treat their husband this way, of course. Parts of sentences ring through the fog until all I hear are mumbled sounds, like Charlie Brown’s teacher.
Once I throw the last pair of underwear in my bag, I look directly at him, noticing glassy eyes once again, recently. “Christian, go where the wind takes you. I wish you well.”
Clutching my keys on the way out, I take a quick look at our home, the place I once felt nothing but coziness and relief through protection from the cruel outside world. The only parts that glow in the wake of the destruction are my thriving green plants, which I hope he’ll tend to at the very least. I shut the door on my old life and walk to my car, notably lighter than when I entered.
Chapter
Sixty-Three
On my first adventure to Temecula Valley on my own, I pull into an apartment complex to meet Lesley and embrace my newfound autonomy. It’s always been fun to come with David or Flora, but I need to do this solo today. Here’s to another step in the rest of my life.
“Hi, Lesley. Good to see you in person again.” I absorb the surrounding beauty of green and brown hills behind the three two-story tan buildings as I exit my car. Every one of the apartments has a patio—a must for yours truly this time around.
“Great to see you, Toni. Guess what!”
My heart leaps. I already know what’s coming. Call it intuition, or hope, but regardless, I know it.
Waiting.
Still waiting.
Staring at her smiling face delaying her next words may make me faint.
“Your offer was accepted.” She covers her now open-mouthed smile.
I squeal and jump up and down like one of the teenagers I teach. “I knew it!” Pausing from slight wooziness, I feel blood rush back down to my feet. “Whew, that’s just what I want to hear, Lesley.” I shake each foot to get them back to normal, but I doubt my excitement level will subside.
“I’m so happy for you. We’ll talk timelines and details, but as long as the inspection and appraisal go well, it seems like the finances are in order so we can close in the next few months on your vineyard.” Her dark-blue blazer’s bottom blows in the gentle wind.
“And with the state of the property, I’ll be able to harvest in fall, right on time, even though it’ll take about a year to have the wine that I’ll create from start to finish.” I bite my lower lip, wishing I could speed up the winemaking process. But hey, I’m starting by hitting the ground running, and that’s better than alternate choices. I’ll sell the former owners’ product from my vines in the meantime, since it’s all part of my purchase.
“No frowns, missy.” She places her hands on her hips.
“Oh, no,” I’m quick to add. “I was just thinking three steps ahead.”
“Well, let’s think about getting you a place to live.”
