Page 63 of The River in Spring
“That’s your artist sensibility, Gaston. It’s part of my makeup too,” I say.
“I really think the best way children grow up is with a little of both,” Aurora adds. “We were lucky to have a creative thinker, and also the logical straight shooter.”
I turn to Gaston. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Those are the best kind.”
“In the end, what made you decide to leave Paris and live a life you knew nothing about?”
He takes a sip of champagne and looks me in the eye. “It was amor. I knew when she walked into my life nothing would ever be the same.” He takes his wife’s hand and threads his fingers in hers. “No matter what the storm was, she was the oasis in the middle.”
“Oh, Gaston. That’s so lovely,” she says, smiling at her husband.
“It’s true. There was no argument great enough to stay there. Nothing that topped the one to be with her. Once we fell in love, that love had the final word.”
“Oh, honey! Why the tears?” Aurora says, using the napkin to wipe my cheek.
I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling. And if ever there was a time to show my cards, it’s now.
“It’s just that I’m not sure Nobel will make that same choice. And if he didn’t my life would never be the same.”
“Do you love him?” Gaston asks.
“Yes. I do.”
“Then stay who you are. That’s the woman he fell in love with. Have a little faith in its power to persuade.”
As I leave the venue, Gaston’s words repeat in my mind.
All the way from my place to Nobel’s, I am sending texts. No response. That doesn’t stop me. I want to think the best of him. It is ridiculous to think he wouldn’t be happy for me. It’s still early, he’s most likely watching television and eating ice cream. Maybe being a little pissed off at me for missing the wedding. I just need to hold firm. I did nothing wrong.
Women are used to putting men first. It has been that way forever. And we’ve done it with a good attitude! All we ask now is for the same consideration. There is nothing wrong with being dedicated and driven. It is something we have honored and looked up to in men. And the women that have supported generations of men striving to succeed? It was expected.
I pull onto the property and drive slowly to the front of the house. It’s dark, although some light still remains in the sky. I can’t see the bedroom window from here, so maybe he’s there stewing. I park and get out, after sending one final text and a gif of a woman with a hot dog in her mouth. Maybe sex will calm us both down.
Up the steps. I knock. And knock. I press the doorbell. His car gives it away. He’s here. No doubt. This is getting tiring. I’m not about to stand here all night, begging entry. It’s time to show him how serious I am and how I expect to be treated. Respect. That’s what I want. I turn and walk away.
18
Nobel
Tires on gravel. I heard her car as it pulled away from the house. Something held me back from going to the door. It wasn’t just anger. It wasn’t payback. I was out of the shower. I could have wrapped a towel around me and made it downstairs. Time was not the issue.
I needed to think. And a clear head to do it. The shower brought things back in focus. Now bed is the place to be. Sliding between the sheets, my body relaxes for the first time tonight. I exhale the last twelve hours and try to process where I find myself.
I know what to do. Use logic. It never failed me before. Pick the problem apart. Never look away from the truth. Wait. First damage control. Just in case I’m still drunk and when I wake up in the morning realize I’m wrong. I’d be happy if it happened.
I need to send a text, saying I was showering when she came over. The cameras alerted me, but by the time I saw the clip, she was long gone. I should add we’ll talk tomorrow. Okay, good.Send.
That buys time to think about what happened today. It was a clear look to the future, and the view was not great. Today I was a guy in his forties alone at a wedding. Making small talk, dancing with my aunt. But tomorrow, and every day forward, I could spend the better part of my life in the same position.
If I stay in Montana, I will be the odd man out at every wedding and party. If I go to Nashville, she’ll be working while I’m in a downtown condo contemplating my navel. The view out my windows, buildings and concrete instead of majestic trees and a flowing river. Even if I go, how much of Dove will be mine? How much will belong to everyone else?
I’ve tried convincing myself the odds of fame are not great. But that’s bullshit. I think they are going to be successful, and it scares the shit out of me. Either I go with her, or I stay here and have a mostly long distance relationship. Long distance love. There’s no good choice.
And I’m not even considering what would happen if they became more successful and toured. I wouldn’t fit in as a groupie and that’s what it would feel like. Following them around, living out of a suitcase, sounds like hell to me. Except for the being with her part.
Just the lack of privacy and solitude, the general noise of the lifestyle, would be hard to adapt to. My invisibility would be compromised. It would take time to adjust my work habits and create movable workspaces. There are a million pieces to this puzzle.
