Longing With No Echo

1: 1

After I found out my husband, Rolf Simmons, had a so-called confidante on the side.

I went straight to his office and made a scene, forcing him to swear in front of everyone that he would never betray me again.

I slapped that woman across the face in public. The whole thing blew up into a scandal, and because she couldn't hold her head up anymore, she was forced to move to another city.

Rolf called me unreasonable, said I was acting like a madwoman. Our son blamed me too, said I was overbearing and never once thought about how anyone else felt.

Then I found out Rolf was slipping off to the neighboring city every week, behind my back, to meet that woman.

But my son stopped me and said,

"My dad's been controlled by you for half his life. Can't he have a little space of his own?"

"Aunt Dawn understands my dad. She accepts him. And my dad's willing to open up to her. What they have went beyond love a long time ago. Stop reading your own dirty thoughts into other people."

That was when it finally hit me. The family I had worn myself out holding together was, in their eyes, nothing but a burden.

Fine, then. I'd give them what they wanted.

Rolf came home just as I finished dinner and set the last dish on the table.

He took off his coat, glanced at the spread, and his brow creased right away.

"Why is it these same dishes again? Can't you ever change it up?"

He poked at the braised pot roast a few times with his chopsticks and started in again.

"How many times have I told you, braised pot roast needs pork belly, three parts fat to two parts lean. How did you go and buy the lean-heavy cut again? Kills my appetite just looking at it."

"Same handful of dishes, round and round for decades, and still not the slightest improvement."

I stood there and looked at him.

So was that it? He got sick of my cooking, so he went looking for someone else?

When I said nothing, he let out a sigh.

"I'm not saying this to blame you. But next time, before you cook, you could think a little more about me and your son."

I didn't answer him. I just asked, flat, without any expression,

"Where did you go over the weekend?"

His chopsticks paused for a beat over the food, then he recovered.

"I already told you. A business trip."

"A business trip to the neighboring city?"

"Yes. A client I had to see."

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and forced out an ugly smile.

"A business trip to Dawn Lawrence's place?"

The words were barely out when he slammed his bowl down on the table. Broken shards and oatmeal splattered across the floor.

"You followed me?!"

He shot to his feet and stared down at me, his whole face full of rage.

"Selma Farley, is something wrong with you? Do I have to report to you every place I go?"

Our son, Basil Simmons, heard the commotion and hurried out of his room.

He glanced at the broken bowl on the floor, then at me, his voice thick with impatience.

"Mom, what are you making a fuss about now?"

"Dad works so hard out there to support this family. It's bad enough you don't appreciate him, but now you won't even give him a little free time?"

The old me would have fired back at the top of my lungs, would have poured out how hard everything was for me while praying someone, anyone, would say a word in my defense.

But now, facing the two of them and their blame, all I said was,

"Rolf, let's get divorced."

He froze for a second, then laughed.

"Divorce? What are you going to divorce me with?"

"You're getting old. Your parents are gone. You leave me, where would you go? Even if you remarried, who would want you?"

"A middle-aged woman with no job. What makes you think you can?"

Every word out of his mouth went into my heart like a needle.

I couldn't help thinking back thirty years.

To be with Rolf, I fought with my family more times than I could count. My father was so angry he ended up in the hospital. My mother cried and begged me not to marry him.

I gave up my chance to study in the big city, all because Rolf had once sworn to the heavens that he would be good to me for the rest of my life, that he would never let me suffer even the smallest wrong.

And in the end, we still came to this.

Seeing that I'd gone quiet, his tone softened a little, and he bent down to pick up the pieces of the bowl.

"That's enough, Selma. We're an old married couple. Do you have to turn the whole house upside down before you're satisfied?"

I didn't answer. I turned, picked up the plates, and walked into the kitchen.

The faucet ran and ran. I stared at the water and let my mind go blank.

How did Rolf and I end up like this?

In the beginning, he really had cared.

Back when Basil was still in elementary school, Dawn Lawrence from his office had sent him flirty messages, and I'd cried half the night over it.

Rolf deleted her contact right in front of me and even offered on his own to cut all ties with her.

Until a few years later, when she was transferred back. She said what happened all those years ago was her fault, that she owed me. Then she slit her wrists, and right before that, she called Rolf.

When he rushed to the hospital, he held her hand, shaken and afraid, all guilt and heartache.

When he came home, he said to me,

"Dawn's been in a bad place since her divorce, that's the only reason she wanted to talk things over with me. She didn't mean anything by it. Don't go after her anymore."

That was how I learned they'd been childhood sweethearts, that they'd known each other for years.

But I still couldn't let it go. I thought once I drove Dawn Lawrence away, there'd be no one left to break up my family.

Until today, when I found out Rolf was sneaking off to the neighboring city every week to see her.

And my husband and my son had turned around and put the blame on me.

2: 2

That night, for once, Rolf came into my room.

He lay down and slid an arm around my waist from behind.

"Asleep?"

His breath brushed my neck, faintly sour with alcohol.

I didn't move.

He tightened his arm, and his voice softened.

"I was too harsh earlier. Don't take it to heart."

"There's really nothing between me and Dawn. We're just ordinary friends."

"She helped me land a project once, and things haven't gone well for her since she moved out there, so I helped her out a few times. That's all it is."

His hand rubbed slow circles at my waist, the same way he did every other time he wanted to make peace.

I edged toward the side of the bed, putting a little distance between us.

His hand hung in the air, paused a few seconds, then withdrew.

"I've already apologized. What more do you want?"

After a long while, his breathing turned slow and even behind me.

I didn't sleep at all.

Disappointment doesn't pile up in a single day, and a marriage doesn't mend back to what it was on the strength of one easy explanation.

The next morning I found him standing at the stove in an apron, two fried eggs turning golden in the pan.

He turned his head and smiled at me.

"Awake? Come eat."

He took off the apron and came over, his tone a little coaxing.

"Next Saturday there's a family dinner at work. Come with me."

"After we eat I'll take you to buy some new clothes. Didn't you say you wanted a coat last time? Let's go pick one out at the mall."

I nodded, expecting he'd forget it the moment he said it, the way he always had.

But this time he actually drove me to the mall.

I tried on a few coats, and he stood beside me nodding, saying they looked nice, any of them was fine.

I was about to have the salesgirl wrap one up when his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and his face changed slightly.

After he hung up, he said,

"Something urgent came up at work. I have to run over there. Keep looking on your own, I'll come with you again later."

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and left.

I stood there, still gripping the hem of the coat.

The salesgirl asked me carefully,

"Ma'am, are you still taking this one?"

I set the coat down.

"Never mind."

When I walked out of the mall, a light rain had started outside.

I stood in the doorway a while, but the rain only came down harder.

I called Rolf three times, wanting him to at least drive me home first, but no one picked up.

There were no cabs anywhere. I gritted my teeth and ran out into the rain anyway.

By the time I got home, I was soaked through.

Before I even stepped inside, I saw someone sitting in the living room.

Dawn was two years younger than me, and after all the years apart, she was still as polished and pretty as ever.

Rolf came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of cut fruit.

He froze for a second when he saw me.

"Why are you this wet? Don't track it all over the floor, go change."

Seeing that my eyes stayed fixed on Dawn, he set down the fruit plate and lowered his voice.

"Dawn's ex-husband won't leave her alone, she really has nowhere to go, so I told her she could stay with us a few days."

Dawn gave a slightly apologetic little smile.

"I'm so sorry to be a bother to you."

She spoke so carefully, as if she were carrying some terrible grievance.

If I were a man, I supposed I'd feel sorry for her too.

I didn't answer her. I turned and looked at Rolf.

"I don't agree to this."

The living room went quiet for a beat.

Dawn's eyes reddened instantly, her voice thick with tears.

"I'm sorry, I never should have come and made trouble, I'll go right now"

She turned to grab her bag, so flustered she nearly tripped.

Rolf caught her by the arm, anger held tight behind his eyes.

"Selma, that's enough!"

"Dawn's at the end of her rope, and you have to be this petty and make it hard for her? She's just laying out a bed on the living room floor. How does that get in your way at all?"

Dawn tugged at his sleeve, shaking her head through her sobs.

"Rolf, don't say any more"

He pressed her back down onto the couch, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here."

"In this house, what I say goes."

Wet as I was, I couldn't help shivering, but Rolf never once looked at me.

His eyes stayed on that red-eyed woman.

And in that moment it suddenly struck me.

I was the one who felt like a stranger who'd wandered into someone else's home.

3: 3

Those few days, I lived in that house like I was invisible.

The first thing Rolf did every day when he came home was ask Dawn whether she needed anything, and when Basil got home from school he'd settle into the living room to chat with her too.

The three of them would crowd around the stove, and their laughter drifted from the living room into the kitchen, stinging my ears.

Once I came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl and saw the three of them on the couch watching TV, Dawn in the middle, Rolf and Basil on either side.

Basil said something, I don't know what, and Dawn laughed until she doubled over. Rolf laughed along with her.

They were the ones who looked like a family.

And I was just extra.

Soon it was the day of the family dinner.

I'd changed my clothes and was about to head out when Basil suddenly ran out of his room, clutching his stomach.

"Mom, my stomach really hurts. Take me to the hospital."

I didn't dare wait. I hailed a cab and got him to the hospital right away.

On the way I called Rolf. It rang five or six times and no one picked up. I called several more times, and still no one answered.

So I could only send him a message.

Basil's not feeling well, I'm taking him to the hospital. We might be late to the dinner.

At the hospital, the whole round of tests took nearly two hours, and when the results came back they said there was nothing wrong with Basil at all.

The doctor said Basil just needed to watch what he ate from now on.

Basil nodded, but his face showed no surprise at all.

I looked at him, and something felt off.

By the time we walked out through the hospital doors it was already past four in the afternoon. The dinner had started, but if I hurried over now it still wouldn't be too rude.

Except Basil grabbed my arm.

"Mom, don't go. Aunt Dawn already went to the dinner with Dad."

I froze where I stood.

"Dad said Aunt Dawn wants to come back to work at the company, so she needs to get on good terms with those people. If you show up it'll just make everyone uncomfortable. Better if you don't."

I opened my mouth, but something was blocking my throat.

"You had me bring you to the hospital just to get me out of the way?"

My son looked up at me, and there wasn't a trace of guilt in his eyes.

"Mom, I just didn't want you making a scene."

"Last time you went to Dad's company and made that kind of scene, wasn't that humiliating enough? Besides, letting everyone see you can be gracious about it can only help you."

He paused, then added one more thing.

"I'm doing this for your own good."

For my own good.

I looked at Basil, this child I'd carried for ten months and raised through every hardship, now telling me with complete sincerity that helping my husband's mistress get me out of the way was for my own good.

I didn't say anything.

I didn't cry, didn't make a scene, didn't rush over to the dinner and blow up the way Basil had imagined.

All at once I felt so tired.

Not tired in my body. Tired in a way that seeped up from the marrow of my bones.

On the way home, a message from my best friend Myra James popped up at just that moment.

Selma, I've finished my retirement paperwork. Next week I'm heading out to the Appalachians to volunteer-teach.

I hear the scenery out there is beautiful. Come find me when you have time, and I'll take you around to clear your head.

I stared at those two messages for a long while.

Myra had always wanted to go teach in the mountains, a way to give her decades as a teacher some kind of closing note.

Last time we had dinner, she'd taken my hand and said,

"Selma, if you hadn't given up your shot at college back then for Rolf, you'd be a wonderful teacher by now."

Back then I'd gotten into teachers' college. I even had the acceptance letter in hand.

But Rolf knelt in front of me and said he couldn't live without me.

The me back then chose the wrong road.

So now, I didn't want to keep making that same mistake.

I wrote back to Myra.

When are you going? I'm coming with you.

4: 4

Back home, I started packing.

Rolf earned more, so most of what filled the house had been bought by him.

I dug through everything for the better part of the day, and what actually belonged to me barely filled a single suitcase.

Late that night, a message came in from Dawn, with a video attached.

In the video, Dawn had her arm looped through Rolf's, her eyes crinkled with laughter.

A middle-aged man came toward them holding a glass, and his voice carried through clearly.

"Manager Simmons standing next to Dawn here, now that's a match made in heaven!"

Laughter and agreement broke out around them.

Rolf didn't deny it. He just lifted his glass and smiled.

You saw it yourself. Everyone thinks we're the couple.

To all of them, you're just a crazy woman. If you know what's good for you, step aside on your own. Don't make it ugly for everybody.

I didn't reply. I just moved Dawn's number into the block list and went back to packing, head down.

The next day I went to finish the paperwork for the teaching program.

Since I wasn't a certified teacher on staff, I could only go as a community volunteer.

Myra was a little surprised, but she didn't ask anything. She helped me get every step of the process done.

Myra's daughter worried about the two of us and even bought a load of household supplies, mailing them ahead to the school.

When I went home for my luggage, I saw Dawn tied into my apron, busy in the kitchen.

Rolf was setting out chopsticks at the dining table, and Basil was carrying a bowl of soup out of the kitchen, calling, "Careful, it's hot."

Four dishes and a soup sat steaming on the table.

Dawn saw me come in, froze for a second, then hurried over with a smile.

"You're back? Perfect timing. I just made chicken soup. Come try some."

I didn't look at her. I walked straight toward the bedroom.

"Selma?"

Dawn followed and reached out to block my way.

"Are you still angry with me? I know I've been in the way these past few days, and I feel awful about it. I made the soup to make it up to you. Just have a little, please."

As she spoke, she turned and went to the kitchen, then came back with a bowl of chicken soup and held it out to me.

I raised my hand and pushed it aside.

"No thank you."

"Come on, do me this one favor"

Before she could finish, her fingers went slack and she dropped the whole bowl of soup on the floor.

Before I could say anything, she was clutching her right hand and letting out a scream.

"Ah! It burns!"

Rolf and Basil rushed over almost at the same moment.

The back of her hand had a red patch on it. She cradled it, tears spilling over as she looked at me, her voice thick with crying.

"Selma, I know you don't like me, but you can't just scald me on purpose"

"My hand's burned. How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow"

At that, Rolf's face changed in an instant.

"Selma Farley, have you lost your mind?"

I frowned and pushed back.

"I didn't."

"Do you think I'm blind?"

Rolf roared.

"Dawn's hand is scalded like that and you're telling me you didn't?"

Basil stood off to the side, and the way he looked at me was a look I didn't know.

"Mom, how did you turn into this? You're vicious!"

The next second, Rolf's palm landed across my face.

After he hit me he went blank for a moment, as if he hadn't expected he'd actually raise a hand.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Dawn's crying quickly pulled his attention back. He turned his head, and his voice went gentle, like a different man.

"Come on, I'll take you to the hospital."

Basil trailed behind them. Just before going out the door, he looked back at me, his eyes full of disappointment.

The door closed.

The apartment went quiet.

I stood alone in the living room and looked at this home I'd spent decades working to keep, and it was riddled with holes anyway.

I thought, I'll never come back again.

The divorce papers I'd prepared long ago were sitting on the table beside the chicken soup, where they'd see them the moment they got back.

Myra called to ask if I was ready. She'd come pick me up for the airport soon.

"I'm ready," I said.

I was ready to go teach in the mountains with Myra.

And ready to leave this home that was never mine, for good.