Another Medicare commercial came on TV. It was getting to be time for bed. Brad knew that if he didn’t turn off the television and get out of his recliner it would be midnight again before he got under the covers with Julia. He could have been in bed by now if he had gotten a wink and a smile from her as she went up to bed, but she gave no hints there would be romance. That part of their relationship was trending downward.
They still got along fine, but more like really good roommates. There was still the occasional night of romance, but he figured it was natural for things like that to fade as you get older.
Brad was making an effort to get in better shape to be more appealing to Julia, and as part of that he steered clear of the kitchen temptations after turning off the television and went directly to the bathroom to get ready for bed. On the way up the stairs, he stepped over the fourth step that squeaks to keep from waking Julia. He tried to be courteous in those sorts of things. He took pride in being a caring partner.
Pills, teeth, toilet, wash-up . . . and just like that he was done. He stepped into the bedroom and, navigating in the darkness, slipped under the covers, an hour earlier than usual. He tried not to disturb Julia who had gone to bed around nine o’clock, as had become her habit. He liked the familiar scent of the bedroom they shared. He wasn’t quite sure what the ingredients were to that smell, but it comforted him. No other room in the world had that exact scent.
Julia was very still. That worried Brad. Her stillness always made him a little anxious. He sometimes feared that he would come to bed or wake up in the morning and Julia would be dead. It was an irrational fear, which he knew, but it wasn’t a new one. He never told her about it, but sometimes over the years he had even dreamed about her dying in her sleep. Nightmares, really.
Losing the love of his life would be awful. Having her die next to him as he slept, and then finding her dead was a terrifying scenario that he couldn’t get out of his mind. They were both getting older, as everyone is, but there was no indication either of them was in their last days. He would turn seventy next year, and she was sixty-two. Seventy is the new sixty, and all that. Still, people die in their sleep every day.
He turned on his side and put his hand on her shoulder. She felt nice and warm. That was good. For thirty-five years he’d shared a bed with her. He always checked on her before he’d fall asleep. The few nights they spent apart only reminded him how much he depended on her being there next to him.
Brad rolled back over onto his other side facing the wall and scrunched the pillow under his head. He reached over to turn on the bedside radio at a very low volume, so as not to awaken Julia. It was set to a music station he liked. He set the sleep timer to thirty minutes.
The next morning, he woke up refreshed and turned towards his wife, but she wasn’t there. She often got up before he did. Part of him was relieved to see that she hadn’t died in the night. He once again felt silly about having that unfounded fear. Yet again both of them survived the hours of darkness and were ready to face another day. After a trip to the bathroom, he wandered downstairs and into the kitchen to say good morning, but she wasn’t there. He checked the rest of the downstairs and basement but there was no Julia.
At his place at the kitchen table, he found an envelope and opened it. Inside was a short letter. Here’s what it said:
“Bradley, thank you for being a good husband and provider all these years. You are a nice man. I am writing this note to say that I’ve found someone else, and I have left you in order to be with him. He makes me feel so alive, and even though I hate to hurt you I had to leave for my own good. Life is too short to pass up these magical connections. I’ll be in touch later about getting my stuff. -Julia”
He put down the letter and sat in his chair at the kitchen table. He looked out the window. It was spring and everything was green and growing and full of life. Brad did not feel full of life at the moment. He didn’t feel full of anything. He was empty except for a burning anger in his chest. He wasn’t somebody who yelled or broke things. He absorbed his anger. Seventy years of squelching his feelings probably took years off his life and this sure wasn’t going to help. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.
It was terrible. Incomprehensible. Had there been signs or signals he missed? Was there something he had done, or not done? How long had she been planning this? He couldn’t remember the last time she had kissed him on the lips or reached out to hold his hand. Time that once involved conversations between them now seemed to be devoted to her perusing her phone.
As he sat his head spun with questions and speculation. None of it would help, of course, but a person needs some time to process that kind of news. After a while he decided he couldn’t just sit there stewing forever – however long that might be for him. Some men might have done something rash if their wife left them on a Saturday morning before the sun rose. Brad wasn’t prone to rashness.
He went to the living room and sat on his recliner while he considered his options. After a few minutes he decided he had only a few choices. He could kill himself, he could withdraw from life and feel sorry for himself, or he could restart his life without her. None of those options were appealing. He certainly couldn’t hunt her down and drag her back by her hair. Her hair was too short for that.
Brad went upstairs and straightened up the bed a little. He pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt he liked that Julia hated. As he got dressed, he remembered that silly fear — how worried he had been that Julia would die next to him. It was a worry that he’d lived with for so long. Being proven wrong each morning for all those years was, in an odd way, invigorating. Day after day of his worst fear not coming true.
He felt no invigoration now. Now he wasn’t worried about her dying in the night. In fact, he wasn’t so sure he wanted her to be alive anymore. That thought made him ashamed of himself, but at the moment that’s how he felt. The thought of Julia with another man who made her feel “so alive” made him a little sick to his stomach. That man couldn’t possibly feel the same way about Julia as he did. That man hadn’t invested thirty-five years in making a marriage work, in managing her ups and downs, and being the best husband, father, and provider, he could be. The other man hadn’t absorbed her criticisms and complaints. He didn’t know what it was like to never be quite good enough. Most of all, the other man hadn’t checked each night and morning to make sure Julia was still breathing.
Brad had a pretty good idea who this new love was. He’d seen him walking out of the yoga class Julia attended the night she asked Brad to pick her up. He saw her look at the guy and smile. “Mr. make me feel so alive” looked fifty-ish, had a scruffy beard and a ponytail. Brad didn’t care for that look in any man over twenty-years-old, but women seemed to be charmed by it. Maybe he’d change his own look and join a yoga class with a bunch of women. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Maybe he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the yoga man was taking advantage of Julia in order to get access to her money. It was mostly Brad’s money, but he never looked at it that way. Not until that morning. He’d have to go to the bank to make sure it stayed there, assuming it hadn’t been withdrawn. What an ugly thought that was, and yet, those things happened.
Younger guys are predators to older women sometimes. Just like younger women have been known to prey on older men. She was smart enough to know that, but it must have felt good to have a young-ish stud show an interest in her. For Brad’s part, he imagined that he might welcome being taken advantage of by a younger woman if the opportunity ever arose. As if that would ever happen.
Brad felt helpless as he sat in his recliner looking through the bay window at the yard that they’d both worked on the day before. What must she have been thinking as she raked and pulled weeds with the person she was about to desert.
The person who leaves makes the decision to go. The person who is left has nothing to contribute to the conversation. They’re just left behind as collateral damage. Nothing but sadness and loneliness. It wasn’t fair, of course, but life isn’t.
Maybe growing older had made her feel like an animal in a trap with the walls closing in. Every day she felt a little older, a little more wrinkled, a little more forgetful. Maybe she felt like she had to get out of the trap she shared with Brad. Perhaps in her mind it seemed escaping from her life with him would save her from old age. Animals gnaw their legs off to get out of a trap. Maybe running off with a younger man was Julia’s version of that.
Brad went to the cupboard and got a bowl and some Life cereal. He plucked a spoon from the drawer and opened the fridge to get the milk, just like most mornings. Julia had left her cup on the counter, where she always did. He picked it up and looked at it. He slid open the trash cupboard and threw it away. That’s what he felt like. Like he had been thrown away. In an odd way throwing her cup in the trash helped a little.
Before pouring the milk into his bowl he paused. What if, instead of running away from home, she had actually died lying next to him last night? Died in her sleep. It would have been horrible. His worst fear would have been realized.
But if she had died in the night, he could have believed she always loved and appreciated him and that they’d had a happy marriage. People would express great sympathy to him for his terrible loss. He would have lost her, yes, but he would still have the memory of Julia as his one true love.
Instead, their marriage had passed away in the night, silently and without warning. All those years fading to nothing but memories of something that no longer existed.
Brad thought it was likely he’d absentmindedly reach over across the bed that night to see if Julia was still alive. He wondered if she’d miss the touch of his hand on her shoulder, or if she ever even noticed it.
Maybe he’d sleep on the couch instead.
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