Chapter 21
Proposal
It was late Monday evening. Bo had not been home long, but already the house felt exceptionally quiet. Normally he would have played something on the Thorens while he wound down for the night. He had been using the iPod dock while the turntable was in the shop, much to his displeasure. Tonight, however, he was not in the mood, even if the silence was deafening. He sat at the kitchen table, about to unwrap and tuck into a plastic container of tom kha gai from the local Thai restaurant, when the doorbell rang.
Well, there goes my appetite.
He abandoned his dinner and headed to the front door. It was a bit late for visitors, but he thought he knew who was calling. He had not spoken to her since Saturday night, and he was certain she had not been too happy with him when he had left. It was only a matter of time before he heard from her. It was time to brace for the discomfort.
"Bitzi."
A simple greeting to his ex upon opening the front door. She was wrapped in her trench coat, looking like a character in a noir film. The mist had dissipated and given way to a foggy night that, coupled with the glow of the streetlamps, created a backdrop that only added to the illusion. The only thing that broke it was her weary expression.
"I promise I come in peace," she said humbly. "May I?"
He stepped aside to let her in. She shuffled through the door and noted her surroundings, looking somewhat uncomfortable at not being on home turf. She paused momentarily when her gaze fell on the vinyl collection. If she noticed the empty space where the Thorens should have been, she said nothing.
"There's a lot I want to say," she began slowly. "Saying it over the phone just didn't seem right."
"Look…" he said, "Saturday night I did exactly the kind of things I hate. I'm sorry I blew up. Even sorrier that I walked out on you."
"You shouldn't be sorry. You had every right to stand up for yourself."
He was not sure exactly what he had expected her to say, only that it would probably include some platitudes about how they needed to push forward an pretend it never happened, to just move on, which would have been such an ironic way of phrasing it. What he had not expected was for her to acknowledge the argument head on and to sound apologetic about it to boot.
"You were pouring your heart out and I made it about me. We could've had a real, meaningful conversation, but I just…ran from it."
"The story of our lives, right?" he said with a defeated shrug.
"I lied to our son again," she said running a slender finger along the empty spot on top of the vinyl shelving. "Yesterday I told him that I was going to Erie to visit a friend. I went to Bear Lake instead. I don't know why, but I went. It was raining, so I just stood on the dock for a long, long time staring out at the island. It still hurts, so much, but for different reasons, I think."
She was of course referring to the place where they had spread their son's ashes. Bo would not interrupt her. This was the most she had spoken about Byron since that day he had come home from Hawaii, and he could hardly believe what he was hearing.
"I never came out the other side either," she said. "Not really. I just fake it around others really well when I need to. But I can't around you because you see me. You've always seen me. That's one of the reasons why conversations with you are so much easier when they're over the phone and with hundreds of miles of separation.
"Saturday was a disaster, and I don't know if I can handle another dinner if there is always going to be tension between us. I've been thinking about what's the best course to take going forward."
"Well…I'm here to stay," said Bo. "You know my reasons. Nothing's changing my mind."
"I don't want you to change your mind, Bo. I want to have more dinners, more meaningful conversations, more…just more. That's why I'd like to propose a possible means of achieving that. Please hear me out. Counseling. I was thinking about going back."
"Counseling?" he said. "Okay. Do you think that would help?
"I think it might. It certainly did the first time around, but I never felt like I fully came to terms with…a lot of things. And I would like for you to join me."
"Me?"
He mouthed the word again to himself.
"You and me? Together?"
"I want so much to see the other side," Bitzi said. "I want to try. I have so many lingering issues that it's scary when I really stop and think about it. And you—well, you never got the chance to express yourself or sort anything out. It's not easy for me, to face you, to talk about it. Look at me. I'm a shaky mess right now."
She held up a trembling hand for emphasis.
"But I know we need to talk about it. We need to. This is bigger than my guilt. I was hoping that having some sort of mediator might help us, or me, at least. What do you think? No, don't tell me. Take some time to—"
"Let's do it," said Bo.
"You—you mean it?"
"I've wanted this since…since the beginning. I never thought I'd hear you so much as mention it. I feel like I'm dreaming, Bitz. When do we start?"
"Oh. Well, I guess I'll have to do a little research, find someone who'd be a good match for us and go from there. Do you have time to talk about it tomorrow?"
"I'll make time. This is…I can't believe we're actually going to do this."
He was fighting hard not to get choked up.
"I'm sorry it took so long for me to—I know I handed you a raw deal—"
"No, no. Both of us were handed a raw deal. But we're going to handle it, okay? I'm committed if you are, one hundred percent."
She nodded.
Bo did not know what was appropriate. Should he hug her? That was what he felt like doing. Shake her hand? That felt too formal. He went for somewhere in the middle and reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She squeezed back.
It was impossible for them to be professional adults because they had been so much more than lovers, been through so much more than a breakup. They once had a marriage, shared a home, created children, and suffered profound loss. This was not about moving on. It was about healing, becoming whole again. After eleven years, it was about time.
To be continued…