Cheryl Tardif - Submerged

“And they weren’t the same,” she guessed.

He nodded. “I was busy following my path, and your mother was following hers. I guess, after a while, we started to veer away instead of cross. Some people’s paths are on a collision course for disaster.”

Two months later, her father had suffered a fatal heart attack. But she’d never forgotten those words. A collision course for disaster.

Well, that certainly summed up her marriage.

Tonight as she sipped her wine, Rebecca thought about her own life path. She had no idea where it would lead, and that scared her. She’d detoured so far from Wesley now that she hoped their paths would remain far apart. She feared if they crossed paths again, it would result in a collision that would submerge her once more in a life of fear. She couldn’t go there again. Not when she was finally learning how to breathe on her own.

Somewhere in the house something clanged.

Setting down the wine glass, she walked around, listening as the house settled for the evening. She heard a soft scratching sound behind the door to the garage. Damn mice!

She opened the door and flicked on the light. Nothing moved. No scurrying of little feet. She’d have to remember to get some mouse traps in the morning. She dreaded finding their lifeless bodies, but it couldn’t be helped. If she didn’t eliminate them, they’d leave droppings and rip open garbage bags. Not to mention they’d propagate like Gremlins.

She closed the door and locked it. Then she went back to the recliner and her wine. She finished another glass and found one of her favorite movies on Movie Central. Sleeping with the Enemy. It was about a woman, played by Julia Roberts, who ingeniously escapes her husband’s abuse and starts a new life with a new name.

Rebecca could relate. She often wished she could start a new life.

I guess in a way I have.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t that different from Julia’s character in the movie. She was starting over, and that meant anything was possible. Even another love.

She ran a finger over the rim of the wine glass. What would it feel like to be touched by another man? To be kissed with tenderness? To make love? It had been so long, she was afraid she’d forgotten how to go about it.

She let out a laugh and muffled it with her hand. She could imagine Kelly telling her, “It’s like riding a bicycle. You never forget how.”

Her sister had been her lifeline through all the turmoil of the past months. Kelly was always there for her, even when Rebecca had pushed her away at times when defending Wesley.

She let out a sigh and returned her attention to the movie. Julia was stealing apples from the tree in the yard next door—and she was about to get caught by her ruggedly handsome neighbor.

Rebecca pulled a blanket from the couch and snuggled into the chair. Though she’d seen Sleeping with the Enemy a dozen times or more, it still filled her heart with a strong emotion. Hope.

Seated in rows of chairs before Marcus, his fellow addicts and Leo smiled and offered a greeting, welcoming him to the weekly midnight meeting of Narcotics Anonymous. He was the last person to speak because he was late as usual, but he’d make it short and sweet as usual.

“My name’s Marcus, and it’s been a few weeks since I’ve been to an NA meeting. But I haven’t used.”

Clapping erupted.

He cleared his throat. “My friend Leo convinced me to come tonight, and even though I was doing okay, he was right. I needed to be reminded of why I’m here in the first place. Thanks for listening.” He gave a nod, then sat down.

No one seemed surprised at the brevity of his statement or at the lack of details. They were used to it. To the group, he knew he was a bit of a mystery. No one knew his whole story. Not even at the center. Shipley knew the bare bones, but only Leo knew about all the skeletons in Marcus’s closet.

The rest of the meeting passed with the standard meet-and-greet over coffee and cookies, though Marcus didn’t feel much like socializing. He wanted to go home and curl up on the couch with Arizona, some pasta and his guilt.

On the drive home, Marcus did his best to breathe normally as Leo steered his rusty old VW down the empty main street. When Leo drove through a four-way stop without stopping, Marcus shook his head.

“What?” Leo barked. “There’s no one else on the road this time of night.”

It was morning actually. Almost one. Regardless, Leo was right about the lack of traffic. It still frustrated Marcus though. His friend was so nonchalant about disobeying traffic laws. Didn’t he know that people were killed every year because some idiot drove through a stop sign?

“Why didn’t you tell them your story?” Leo asked.

“I’m not ready to share it.”

“One day, you’re gonna talk.”

“Maybe.”

Leo stared at him with concern. “You can’t keep it all locked up inside. It’s not healthy. It won’t help you recover.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever recover, Leo.”

“I know that’s what you think, but I believe one day you will.”

Marcus shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Look, man, just talk about it. Share. Admission is good for the soul.”

“You want me to admit what I’ve done? Tell everyone I killed my son and wife?”

Leo released a heavy sigh, then crossed his massive arms over his chest. “You didn’t kill them, Marcus. That accident wasn’t your fault. One day you’ll get that.”

There was an awkward silence before Leo changed the subject. “Wanna stop at my place for a coffee?”

“Can’t,” Marcus replied. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“With who?”

“Not who . More of a what. I’m trying a new recipe tonight. Whole wheat linguine with shrimp, red peppers and a non-alcohol white wine cream sauce.” Marcus saw the wishful look in his friend’s eyes. “You want to join me for dinner?”

Leo shook his head. “Can’t. Val’s waiting.”

Five minutes later, they pulled up in front of Marcus’s house. The passenger door of the VW squealed in defiance as Marcus pushed it open. He stepped outside. “I’ll bring some leftovers to work.”

Leo grinned. “I can always count on you, Chef Taylor. You should have your own TV show.”

Marcus watched Leo drive away and pondered his friend’s comment. Maybe he should start looking into a new career. He wouldn’t have a choice if he slipped up any more at the center. Shipley would keep pushing to get him ousted.

Maybe a change of career was in Marcus’s future.

An hour later, he sank into the recliner, his fingertips balancing a plate heaped with his linguine creation on his fingertips. The dish smelled heavenly and his stomach rumbled. He’d even tossed in some finely chopped chilies to give it a kick, and he’d sautéed a handful of asparagus spears with a sprinkle of sesame seeds as a side dish.

For the past month he’d been on an asparagus kick. Sautéed asparagus in sesame seeds and olive oil. Or with fresh lemon juice and dill. Or rolled in egg whites, cracker crumbs and parmesan. Blanched asparagus, chilled and seasoned with orange juice, tossed in green or pasta salads. Yeah, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do to a spear of asparagus.

Arizona lumbered into the room, eyeing his half empty plate wistfully.

“Hey, girl. We’ll go for a walk later. Okay?”

Arizona barked once and spun in a circle. She dutifully sat down in front of him, waiting.

“Okay, but I gotta warn you. It’s got a bite.”