Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

his thumb traced circles against my palm. We sat like that for a minute before he nudged me and said, “I’m sorry, Sadie.”

“For what exactly?” I asked.

“For everything, really, but especially my attitude this morning. I know what you have on your plate. I see what you do around here for the kids, for me. And it breaks my heart I’m not helping more. I didn’t sign up for this, and you certainly didn’t, either.”

Sitting so close to his shoulder provided a whiff of the laundry detergent scent still clinging to his shirt. The aroma did nothing to soothe my somewhat frayed nerves as flashes of Andrew flared before my eyes.

“You’re forgiven. This is difficult for you...you want to do what you used to do and can’t sometimes.” I turned toward him and caught his chin in my free hand. “But you and I both have to stop looking at you as broken. You aren’t what you once were, that’s true. There are plenty of other things you can be though. Have you thought of that? How can you make the best of this situation? How can we make the best of it? Think of Rick and Laura, please. You need to stop looking at what’s going on as a life sentence and start living with it. If not for me, then for Charlie, Delia, and Lexie.”

Throwing out the child card might be unfair, but the topic would hit home. Theo had always wanted a gaggle of children. His PTSD and our impending divorce had put a stop to that plan.

“It’s hard, Sadie. More difficult than I can articulate. I saw what depression did to my dad, and here I am going through something similar.” He clenched a bandaged fist against his thigh. “I should have learned how to accept this state by now. I’ve read the literature. Shouldn’t I have known?” He placed his head into his hands and soon, his shoulders heaved, and his breath stuttered.

His predicament sat front and center in my mind as I embraced him with the singular hope a simple gesture would help ease some of the pain. But as I lay my head against his and touched his tender fingers, my predicament pushed his away from the front of the line: caught between a love that might be and a love that wasn’t anymore. Had I ignored what was coming? Shouldn’t I have known?

 

.    .    .    .    .

Theo rarely showed his vulnerable side. Almost never, in fact. Which gave me a lot to think about over the ensuing weeks and reaffirmed I had an issue on my hands. Theo still needed help, and if I could, I would give it to him. And that meant anything with Andrew would have to wait. Yet, I still pulled out Andrew’s number, entered it into my contact list, and sent a quick text.

As August’s blanket of humidity led into a cooler September climate, two things happened: one, Theo put forth his best effort in being dad and housemate; and two, I did my best to avoid Andrew. At least in person.

Early fall barbecues at Jackie’s did not become a part of my schedule, and Brooke took over most of the weekly grocery shopping. When Kate and I met briefly for coffee, usually at her or my house, my focus stuck to the buzz of school news and inane stories about her job. But that didn’t mean Andrew was far from my mind. Thoughts about him emerged at the most unexpected times: when I was running, cleaning the toilet, changing the sheets. That last task always brought my thoughts to Andrew. Go figure. And that phone of mine Theo hated so much? It tethered Andrew and me. Daily texts became the norm.

But somehow, despite my great attempts to avoid him around town, we ran into each other all over the metro area. We exchanged brief hellos at Breaking Bread (time to find a new coffee shop), in the checkout line at Grocer Jim’s (what was it with the grocery stores?), and in the lobby of the Dominion Theatre (a place we rarely visited) on a sunny, pleasant, Sunday afternoon, among other places.

Each encounter made me recall my conversation with Kate, and her voice resonated throughout my thoughts as I conducted my daily business: Stop thinking of Theo or the family or anyone else who might play a role in your life at this moment and rewrite the stars, Sadie. What is good for you?

Fighting a war against myself and my feelings for Andrew and scrabbling to find something to hold on to took center stage at times. And why? Hadn’t Theo and I decided to divorce? What was binding me to him? Fear? Guilt?

As of that moment, Theo knew nothing about what had happened on Father’s Day at Bloom Market. And even though I’d spent little alone time with Andrew, getting the scoop on who he was and what he wanted out of life, an entity of him grew in my head. My body yearned for the man I’d built up based on text conversations, but what information did I have about him? What side of the bed did he sleep on or what brand of toothpaste did he use? Did he wear boxers or briefs? (My thought: boxer briefs, the topic had never arisen, sadly.) Which way did he lean politically, how did he feel about social justice issues, and what sort of role did science play, or not, in his life?

These were all things I wanted to find out, and why shouldn’t I?

But what about those things I did know? His life as a business associate, his relationship with his ex-wife and kids, his willingness to volunteer for the parks and rec department at a moment’s notice. And our random chats sometimes turned into marathon talk sessions, where one of us looked at the clock and begged off, saying we had things to do and “really should go.” Those sessions had revealed a lot