CHAPTER 13
Cora also had secrets of her own. It was not only about Mr. Bricker—that was not entirely a secret. She had introduced him to her daughters earlier on; her gallery partner met him in New York a couple of times during the inception stage of their big art project; and he was seen by some of the guests who attended the opening exhibit of the gallery. As far as she was aware, she kept the thing about Mr. Bricker only from Robert but even then he saw them together, inquired around from his family, and outed her secret himself which, in a way, made her job of admitting to him a little bit easier.
But Mr. Bricker was not the crux of her secret. In fact, he was just a small part of the whole complicated mess that she made for herself. A mess that rubbed off on Robert and the children.
Last night, when Robert told her to live a free and happy life in front of the family, she broke. It felt like a heavy equipment had ran over her chest watching Robert struggled with holding on and letting go. It was too familiar to her. She struggled with it too...earlier...during the divorce and until now. She recalled wanting to shred the divorce papers into pieces but they had already signed it and she wanted to spite Robert and her pride told her not to retract and waver.
Watching Robert last night, she saw how he clearly convinced himself that his inability to completely forget her and moved on was her prison. To set her free was his only solution. What he did not know was that her inability to admit to him that she was only pretending she had moved on was her shackle.
She had not really moved on. She did not want to. When the divorce was finalized and she had to move out from his house, she was unable to take and move out her things. So, her children hired two people to do that for her with Mary and Edith's supervision. She was totally distraught when she flew to New York.
She had always loved Robert. She is still madly in love with him.
That night in New York when Harold dragged him to their family dinner, she sat frozen not because she loathed seeing him but because, that week, he was always in her dreams. When he stood by her side to apologize before they separated, her mouth assured him that he was Harold's plus one but her heart wanted to shout to him that he will always be her number one.
The day he left New York for England, she sat behind the wheel of her mother's car parked in front of his hotel debating to herself whether to see him off or not. In the end, she chose to drive away without seeing him goodbye. Pride won that day.
A year ago, she met Mr. Bricker and they kicked almost instantly well. Their relationship was founded on intellectual terms until his regard for her did a romantic turn. After months of pursuing her she decided to get to know more about the person for her to discover if they can work it together. There is a big difference between dating a person because you like them and dating a person because you want to see if, eventually, you would come to like them. Sadly, people these days fail to nuance the idea of dating and conflate it with liking. But can she blame them?
The horrified looks on the girls' faces at the sight of poor Mr. Bricker the first time she introduced him to them at dinner almost made her laugh. Laugh and cry at the same time. Laugh because those expressions reminded her of her mother-in-law's discriminating expression. Right there, for a fleeting second, she thought of Violet and of her secret admiration for the older woman's wit and strength. How intimidating it must be for Simon Bricker to sit before two young women who did not talk much but just peered at him from behind their hard countenance. At the same time, she wanted to cry because she felt like she had disappointed them. For the girls, no one could measure up to their father. She was quite flushed with mortification that night.
When Mary suggested she should stay at their house with her father during her whole stay in London, her heart shouted with glee but she behaved otherwise for fear of finding out that Robert did not want her around even if they were not supposed to mind each other.
When first she arrived in London and Robert came to fetch her from the airport, she very much wanted to run up to him and wrap her arms around him. She had to check and remind herself that she was supposed to be reluctant to the whole idea.
She wanted him badly to attend the opening of the gallery and yet, when she learned that Mr. Bricker was invited by Mrs. Nigel, her gallery partner, she prayed real hard that Robert would not go. The heavens heard her, he did not come. But throughout the night, she searched the crowd for a sight of Robert no matter how fleeting that might be.
That one night when he failed to come home, a thousand thoughts ran inside her head...What if Robert met an accident along the way? It scared the hell out of her. She scanned the internet for news of accidents along Robert's route within his travelling time frame. She called him up but he did not answer and when she was finally able to get a hold of him she was relieved beyond relief to know that he was at Rosamund's no matter how drunk he sounded on the phone.
Recently, on her last dinner with Mr. Bricker, she told him they should quit dating. He did not know she was staying with Robert. He was insistent. He begged and pleaded with her and went to her and put his arms around her so tight she had difficulty breathing. She struggled to break free, and when at last she did, she looked at him with a pair of ice cold blue eyes, and with a steely voice told him to never go near her ever again lest she would be forced to do something he did not dream she would be capable of doing. "Don't push me." She warned. Then, she turned away from there without looking back. It was just unfortunate that Robert was there in the dark of the living room watching a late night movie when she rushed in mad and boiling.
All the while, she just wanted to tell him how she still loved him; that it only takes a smile, a nod, a slight whisper to her ear, or a soft touch of his hand and she would risk everything over again to have him back. But every time she found the opportunity to tell him of her love she hurt him instead—hurt him for his grating indifference, hurt him for his disregard of her opinions, hurt him for Sybil's death, hurt him for the grief she could not cope with, hurt him for his short-lived infidelity, hurt him for the separation, and, finally, hurt him for keeping themselves apart from each other until now.
Last night, Robert encouraged her to be free and happy...
"Oh, darling I would do just that. Our story seems like an idiot plot. One more day of ignoring me, pushing me away, and I would explode fuming mad. I might not be able to forgive you if at all that would happen." She closed her letter with that last urgent line, signed, folded the paper, and slipped it inside his leather briefcase so he could read it in the office. All these she did while he made breakfast with Isis thinking she was still fast asleep in his room.
