Down From the Clouds (8 page)

"Are you okay?" Ella reached for my shoulder. “You seem out of it.”

"Harold Kessler called."

"And?"

"I hung up on him."

My iPod shuffled. I turned up the music. Fleetwood Mac. The Chain. We listened. That would be normal, except that Ella and I never listened to that song. We always sang when it came on.

I turned it down. "What are you thinking?"

She hesitated.

"What advice would you give me?"

"I don't know anymore. We aren't even married yet and everything around us is falling apart. It's making me doubt everything I once believed."

"What are you doubting?"

"My own definition of love. Do soul-mates exist? And if they do, do you remarry when they die? What about people who abuse you or leave you? Do you let them back into your heart? This relationship between you and me. What is it? What are we?” She inhaled. Bit her lip. "What is love, Gavin?"

Chapter Nine

We allowed Ella's question to hover in the air between us for weeks. Neither of us knew the answer. Or at least knew how to answer it. Instead, we occupied ourselves with a new business venture. All the credit goes to Ella. My little business woman. We decided to call it “Studio K.” I didn’t like the name. At all. But she insisted. We’d teach ages one to twelve how to paint, draw, mold, sculpt, build, and also offer piano, guitar, bass, drums, violin, cello, flute, and voice lessons. Yes, between the two of us we knew how to do every one of those things.

According to the organization queen, we’d start out with lessons in our basement since it had a separate entrance and good setup for sound and mess. Then we’d move to a studio in the city after we saved enough money. Not in a million years did I imagine this working out, but I humored her. I loved her excitement. In the few short months that I spent with her I could already see her intense drive to devote herself one-hundred percent to something or not at all. I loved seeing her put herself into these things, but it worried me a little. I saw that personality get burned out more times than I can count. Sitting on the sidelines of life gives you a lot of time to think about what you don’t want to do if you ever decide to play. And spending life as a pendulum wasn’t something I wanted to do. Any second those pendulums could fly right off into some oblivion. Balance, when savored with passion, can do a soul good.

I let Ella run with the business plans and boy did she run.

"You sure you don't need my help?" I yelled down the basement steps.

"I don't need it." Her voice echoed back. "But I always want you near me.”

"Patrick wanted to meet up with Matt and I tonight. Should I go?"

"If you come and kiss me first."

We finished our dessert in the dimly lit restaurant. Matt asked the waiter for another water. Patrick and I did the same.

"So," Matt said. I knew what would come next.

"You wanna know if Heidi and I are together?" Apparently Patrick knew too. 

Matt nodded and shrugged. Then sipped his water as he motioned for Patrick to tell us. I swear Matt had the mind of a woman sometimes. Maybe even most times. He loved relationship details. I feel uncomfortable asking people what kind of underwear they buy and how many times they have sex a year. Not Matt.

"We're just friends." He cleared his throat. "Best friends. But just friends."

I smiled. "Come on. Are you trying to make yourself believe that?"

"We see the way you look at each other." Matt slipped the waiter his credit card. I knew he'd try to pay for the entire meal. He always did.

"I'm not gonna lie. I fell in love with her. She knows it, but she wanted to stay committed to Andy and she's trying to stick to it." He sighed. "I don't know how or why we met, but if anything, I'm going to be there for her until the day one of us dies."

"What are the chances?" I imagined Ella's face the first night I finally kissed her.

"The chances of what?"

"Of you losing your wife and Heidi losing her husband and you both falling in love when you both vowed not to?"

"I don't know. What are the chances?"

"Tell me this,” Matt said. “What was your relationship like with your wife?"

"Honestly?" He rubbed his facial hair, repositioned himself, and looked down. "It was hard."

"Because she was dying?"

"No, because she wanted to die." He exhaled. "I gave my life to that girl. Just couldn't fix her. I did love her though. Loved her with every ounce in me."

I leaned forward. "What were you trying to fix?"

"She had a lot of trauma from her past. I wanted to help her heal, but it's almost as though she didn't want to heal. She loved me. And I promised my life to her. But we were never lovers."

"You mean you never had sex? Not even once?"

"Yes." Patrick sipped his water until only ice cubes were left.

"Why?"

"She was raped by her father as a child. She never wanted me to touch her. Sometimes I'd reach for her hand and she'd flinch." He shook his head as though the very memories would fall to the ground and disappear if he shook hard enough. 

"So it was like being married to your best friend, but no romance?" I said. 

"We had romance. Just not in your typical Ella Rhodes way."

I smiled. "Understatement."

"Gavin has a lot to live up to," Matt said. 

I laughed. "I'd dress in a Prince Charming outfit and parade around in a horse drawn carriage if she asked me to." Once our laughter died down I looked at Patrick. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"If you didn't have sex or touch, and you didn't feel loved in return, how did you love her so much?" I held up my hand. "Wait. I know that sounds bad. I don't mean it like that. I guess what I'm asking is, how would you define the love that you guys had?”

Patrick tilted his head and squinted, absorbed in memories. Matt crunched an ice cube as we waited for him to answer.

"Well," he said. "I'm not sure I can explain what we had."

"Why did you marry her?"

"Sometimes things just don't make sense to the world. I think love is one of those things. The more we try to think about it and define it, the more we distort it with ourselves. Our own opinions of love. But for us, I don't know, we were connected. We didn't have much in common. We argued a lot. I tried to fix her and she resented me for it, thinking I didn't love her for who she was. But I loved her for who she was. She just didn't know herself."

"How is it different with Heidi?" Matt said.

"Heidi." He smiled. "She is strong. There’s something mysterious about her, but in a healthy way. I can’t explain it. Does that make sense? She has been through a lot, but she handles it well. She's different than my wife was. She's happier. She has her down moments, but she genuinely wants to be better. To grow."

"No, I mean, how do your feelings for her differ?"

He thought for a minute, then said, "Heidi and I have a chemistry I never had with Emily. I tried to make myself believe we did. I sent her flowers, love letters, practically devoted every waking moment to her. But she never returned the love. I often wonder if it took me so long to get out of bed after she died because I had spent those years of my life at her feet. I forgot there was life outside of her." He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Anyway, Heidi felt the same way. Her and Andy had a great relationship, but it never had a chance to grow deeper. It was still new and fresh. A young romance that died too soon. That changes a person though. Makes them look at life differently. I think what Heidi and I have is something deeper. It's almost like falling in love backwards. Starting deeper and maybe one day the romance and excitement will set in. Or maybe we will be friends for life. Nothing more."

"Wow." Matt looked around the room. "And all this time time I thought Gavin and I were the only guys like this."

"Like what?" I said.

"Guys who aren't into one night stands and really want to love a woman the way they deserve. That's why it took me so long to commit to Lydia. She's beyond perfect, and she deserved the best. Until I knew I could give her what she deserved, genuinely, I couldn't do ask her to marry me.”

"Yes," I said. "There's a shortage of men who don't think with either of their heads as much as they think with this." I patted my chest. "You know what other guys would call us, right?"

Patrick laughed. "A choice five letter word that begins with a P and ends with a Y?"

Chapter Ten

I walked through the door. So eager to see Ella. A few hours away from her tortured me. I found her in the kitchen. Tired eyes. Hair clinging to her cheeks.

She saw me. An envelope fell from her hand. Landed by my foot.

"How could you?" She picked up another envelope from the counter. "I didn't open yours." She flung it at my chest. "If you would've asked I would've read it to you. Unlike you, I have nothing to hide."

Arms at my sides, dangling there like broken limbs, I tried to speak.

"Say something. Please. I'm trying to deal with all of these secrets you have. I really am. I’m an open book and the love of my life won’t let me get past chapter four.” Her volume increased. "I know I have my own issues, but please. You are a grown man, Gavin. Stop acting like a child."

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Not even to tell her that I hadn't read her letter. That I loved her. That I was sorry. That I wanted to open up to her, but didn’t know where to start.

She closed her eyes. Tilted her head back. "Say something, Gavin. Anything."

I didn't want to be irritated with her. I really didn't, but her words didn't help. "I don't think I'm acting like a child." I should've walked away. Or at least kept my mouth shut. 

"That's all you have to say? It's not even that you took the letter. I’ll share anything with you. It's that you didn't tell me." She inhaled and looked at me. Made eye contact for the first time I walked in. "I don't like secrets. I want to know you.”

I bent down and picked the envelope up. Turned it over. Addressed to me. Probably the last letter he ever wrote.

Ella kneeled beside me. “I know this is hard for you.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“I’m sorry.” She touched my hand. “I’m just overwhelmed. I want to be your best friend. You have to open up to me.”

"No," I said. “Don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. I know I'm not the knight in shining armor you were hoping for."

She pulled a hair off my shoulder. "Your armor is a little rusty, but with a little work it will look good as new. Not like this princess is so great either."

"You are to me."

She smiled and pressed her forehead into my shoulder. I put my arm around her and pulled her into my chest. We held each other on the kitchen floor. 

"I still think you're acting like a child though." She kissed my cheek. "Can you please read the letter and move on from this? I doubt your grandfather wanted you to sit around and dwell on it."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"What?"

"Moving on. Writing 'the end' and forgetting the story."

My phone rang.

“You can pick it up,” she said.

“You know how I feel about answering the phone when I’m with you.”

“You’ll have to get used to it sometime. Now that we are going to be working together you’ll be around me all the time.”

I looked at the number. Didn’t recognize it. “It’s probably Harold Kessler. He’s been calling from random numbers and leaving messages.”

“What do the messages say?”

“Don’t know.”

“You don’t listen to them?”

I rubbed my head.

“Let me listen.”

“I really d—“

“Don’t make me break out the indian burn.” She laughed. “Seriously, let me listen.”

I handed her the phone. Too tired to argue my way out of it. She pressed a few buttons and held the phone to her ear. I could hear. All five messages she listened to. Same thing. “Gavin, please call me. I just want to talk to you once and I’ll leave you alone after that.”

Ella slid the phone into my hand. "Call him."

"And say what?"

"Whatever you want." She kissed my fingers. "I will be here for you. It's not that bad. Just a phone call is all he wants from you."

I stood. Walked to the couch and took off my shoes. "Can I read the letter instead?"

She propped her head up with some pillows and hid her feet under my legs. "Sure."

"And if I read this letter do you promise not to ask me to talk to that man?"

She held up her pinky. I linked it with mine.

The letter looked aged. Hadn't been a year since he mailed it, but the yellowed envelope and frayed edges said otherwise. I tore a corner off and slid my finger inside. Ella's eyes, on me, were bright now that the tears subsided. I tried to smile.

Holding my breath, I ripped open the top and pulled the letter out. Only one sheet of paper. I expected a novel for his last words. Not a paragraph.

Ella wiggled her feet under my body. "Open it."

I obeyed. Blue ink formed a single paragraph. My eyes glazed over at the first three words. Crying scared me. Not because I wanted to pretend to be all tough and never get hurt. I'm not a fan of the "suck it up" mentality. Tears scared me because I held so much inside. For decades. Releasing a few tears, I worried, would break the dam. So I blinked away the droplets on my eyes and read aloud so Ella could hear.