The Woman in the Windowsill

~~~

I’ll never forget the day. It was 13 months ago. It was Joe’s birthday, and the guys wanted me to go out with them to celebrate. I had been working late all week, and felt like I could use the time to get out a bit. I thought about using this free time to see my wife at home, but Joe came to my birthday celebration the year before so I owed it to to stop by and see him for a bit. Besides, it had been months since I had a drop of alcohol. There was always the occasional side of red wine with steak dinner but I hadn’t gone out drinking for a long time.

I had just left the office after making yet another record breaking sale. Ross is proud and offers to buy a bottle of champagne and celebrate with the sales team. Everyone has taken to calling me Brett ‘Record’ because of my recent accomplishments. I decide to give the team a rain check, saying I needed to be somewhere else. Ross understands and shakes my hand as I exit the building. I race over to the bar, coming within a mile of where Camila and I live before heading further out to the brewhouse Joe loves where I’m to meet them. I think about stopping by and grabbing Camila to join. But things just aren’t that easy when you’re married. I know she would take hours getting ready and I would miss the whole party. Either that or she wouldn’t want to go and she’d make me feel guilty about not spending my free time with her after such a busy work week. I decide to keep driving and head straight to the party.

Once I’m in I’m immediately greeted by David and some of Joe’s coworkers. The night begins with pizza and the occasional beer. It’s a pretty mellow night to start out with. This quickly escalates to beer tasting which then escalates to us taking a few shots. After all, it isn’t every day one of your best friends turn 29 right? We drop a lot of money on poor Joe and get him so drunk the bartender can’t serve him anymore. This is before the birthday cake is even brought out. The night couldn’t have been going any better. By now we’re all delightfully smashed. It was a night I really needed.

I feel the buzzing of my phone as a call comes in. I’m listening to a story Joe is attempting his best to tell me, but it only comes out in a blubbering mess as he gain barely hold composure. I pull the phone from my pocket and see that it’s Camila calling me. She must be calling because I told her I wouldn’t be at work too late again tonight as I had for the past week. She must have planned something for us at the house. Or maybe she was just wondering where I was at and why I hadn’t gotten home yet. Either way, I dubbed it unimportant.

Unfortunately, with me raking in all the deals and becoming a rising star at work, Camila and I haven’t been able to spend the time together like we used to. When we were dating and first married we wouldn’t let anything get in the way of “our” time. I’d never stay late at the office, and she would gladly put her friends on hold for anything so that she wouldn’t miss movie night with me. We were so happy together when we were first married. Things change over five years of marriage though. Now, I just stare at the phone and contemplate whether or not I should answer the call from my wife.

I was just about to answer the phone, but now David has joined in on the drunken conversation. I remember them saying something particularly funny and I let the machine take Camila’s call. I just told myself she would understand. I was off the next day for the weekend and I’d make it up to her. I would tell her all about the recent contracts I got taken care of this week, and that soon we’d have so much money we wouldn’t know what to do with it. I’d just tell her that we could go off on another vacation, and I just assumed that she’d eat it up and forgive a drunken night out with my friends.

Joe is having such a good time, and the last thing he wants is for me to leave. I mingle around with his coworkers and boast about my sales position. There are a few women that night that try their luck with taking me home. The successful, stable, corporate employee, and best friend of the birthday boy. I let them down easy and reluctantly as I’m not at all immune to flattery. I’m quick to flaunt them my wedding ring and to inform them that I’m happily married. One of Joe’s gorgeous coworkers I’ve politely rejected earlier asks to see a picture of the envied Mrs. Reckard. I tell her I’m the luckiest man in the world and parade the picture of Camila in my wallet. Back then it was definitely a guilty pleasure of mine to watch these women grow jealous of my wife simply because she had me. The disappointed looks on the women’s faces would bring a smile to mine in a sick sort of way.

Then I get another call. It’s Camila’s father, Rafe. He’s the last person I’d feel like talking to right now. He and I had never seen eye to eye, and he was probably just calling me to get in contact with Camila. At times she too would even avoid her father’s calls as his conversations were usually backed with negativity and disdain with whatever decision Camila had recently made. The biggest mistake she made, in his mind, was to marry me. He never missed an opportunity to voice his opinion. Camila would always take my side when he’d downplay her decision to marry me, not that it made much of a difference.

Every Thanksgiving and Christmas that Rafe and I would be forced to share was unbearable. Each holiday was sprinkled with passive aggressive disagreements and tension that could be cut with a butterknife. No matter what topic we would decide to discuss, from politics to the location of our newest apartment, Rafe never felt that what I could provide was good enough. Every time though, I’d keep my own offensive comments to myself. The last thing I’d want to do was force Camila to pick between us.

Rafe always had it out for me for other reasons too. He was a hard working mechanic of 25 years which he took great pride in. He did all he could to provide for his wife and daughter, working more than 50 labor intensive hours a week.

Sometimes I can understand his frustrations. Out of nowhere a young man with a marketing degree comes in and takes his place as his only daughter’s breadwinner. No matter how hard I tried to get to know him he’d love to bring up the fact that he worked for everything he earned and no amount of money any white collar son-in-law ever made could amount to his accomplishment. As if my degree and position at work just fell into my lap. We simply couldn’t stand each other. After months and months of brown nosing and holding my words back, I had come to the realization that Rafe and I would never have a fairy tale father and son relationship. I had come to terms with that by now.

So of course, tonight of all nights, there’s no way I’m answering his phone call. I scoff as hit the red button to decline the call. I stuff the cell phone back into my pocket without a second thought and make my way back to the chatting and laughing patrons so that I could enjoy the rest of my night.

By the end of the night David and I are practically carrying the drunken Joseph into a taxi cab a coworker of his had phoned a half hour ago. I tell Joe he’s a real trooper as David and I stuff him into the back seat and shut the door. The taxi takes off down the dark street, leaving David and I at the curb just outside the brewhouse. We’re the only ones left, all the rest of Joseph’s guests left around the time he entered his drunken somber. David tries to persuade me to hit another bar with him but I tell him I’ve got Camila waiting up for me and she’s probably angry enough with me at this point. There’s no doubt she’ll smell the stench of beer and liquor from my breath, and even my clothes.

David is pretty drunk by this time and I tell him to hop into my car for a ride to his apartment and I’ll give him a ride back to his truck in the morning. By the time we have arrived outside his house, he once again tries to get my to have another beer with him inside. He’s quite drunk and not ready for the night to be finished. I finally convince him to get into his house which he stubbornly agrees. With my inhibited companions safely out of harm’s way, I take time look to check my phone. It’s already one o’clock in the morning. The imagery of Camila slaving over the stove and oven in a rush to get dinner finished before my expected arrival at 7 enters my mind. All I can hope for is she’s already passed out. If she’s asleep I’ll able to explain myself tomorrow morning after I’m energized. That way I might be able to come up with a reasonable enough story for her to opt against giving me the silent treatment for the rest of the week.

I remember her phone call and that she left a voice message. I decide to play it and see what she needed. With luck she’d let me know that she decided to go over to one of her friend’s the town over and maybe we’d both be arriving at home right now at the same time. If only life were that convenient.

The voicemail plays. “Brett? Brett call me back as soon as you can. I’ve got some bad news. I’ll wait until you get home, I feel like it’s something we should talk about in person. You’re probably just busy at work. I love you. Call me soon.” This was the voicemail that gets me every time. She tried her best to stay so calm. She told herself that I was working late. She wasn’t stupid. She knew I was out with the guys. Her voice had a hint of panic in it, and I was too self indulgent to answer the phone for her.

I decide to turn on Rafe’s voicemail. Immediately there is the loud booming voice of an angry father. I pull the phone away from me because it’s so loud. I’m able to make out one word though. ‘Abandon’.

I ignite the engine of the honda and race to my apartment.

I open the door to our home. It’s mostly dark inside, except that the light in the dining room is on. The light dimly illuminates the rest of the living room and the foyer leading to the living room. I don’t bother turning the other lights on. Right now I don’t feel like I’m entering my own home. I feel like a stranger in my own apartment. The apartment is clean, Camila was a great housekeeper. Instead of trash and liquor bottles littering the floor, it’s well vacuumed. The smell of incense is rich as I slowly inch toward the dining room. The apartment is well decorated instead of decayed as it is now.

I come around the corner and I see her. Her makeup has been messed up from all her crying. She looks up at me now, and manages to produce a weak smile. My heart drops. I try to mutter the words but I choke on them out of guilt but finally I’m able to speak. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry, what’s wrong?”

She says nothing and just looks down at the table.

“Camila”, I speak softly. I make my way to her side and kneel beside her. “What happened? I’m sorry I wasn’t here, please speak to me!” I had never seen her like this before. There were some times where I’ve messed up and received the silent treatment for a few hours, and there have been hectic arguments between us but nothing like this.

She attempts to speak, but her voice is muffled because of her crying. “Where were you Brett? I needed you”. She can’t stand to even look to at me.

I think about lying. About telling her I got a flat tire, or I had to stay late at work. It wouldn’t do any good though, lying to her now would only make things so much worse. I thought about bringing up the monster contract I tackled at work to lift her spirits. But I know she can smell the alcohol on me. Any excuse I’d make would be weak, it’s about 2am. She’s not stupid.

I begin my pleading. “I, I had to-, I went to Joe’s birthday party. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” I can’t imagine what got her like this. There’s no beautiful dinner set out, there’s no movie set up. She isn’t like this because I forgot about a simple date. This was something more.

She turns away from me and pulls out a manila folder. Could these be divorce papers? Has she been waiting all this time to tell me she wasn’t happy? It couldn’t be. My mind’s going a thousand miles an hour at this point.

“What’s this?”

She begins to tear up again. I shut up and open the folder. There’s a few copies of processing paperwork, nothing important. I flip past these and see the medical records. I skim the manuscript as fast as I can. Again, my mind is all over the place and my wife is in shock next to me. It’s hard to focus. But I see the important notes. My heart sinks. She has cancer, and she has two months to live. There’s x-ray images in the back. It’s in her brain. My eyes tear up and I look at her. I’ll never look at her the same way again. I embrace her.