Nobody’s Perfect

Chapter 34

The next morning I sipped my coffee and drummed my fingers on the tabletop. I looked at my phone, wanting to text my mother to tell her that Lucky had returned safely. But I didn t want her to ignore my text, and that s what I was afraid she would do.

She had at least texted to let me know she d made it safely to her destination.

Parker had checked in, too. Coolly, casually, noncommittally.

Abi had sent me a picture of Barney wearing a cone and looking pathetic, but still no word from Rachel.

Well, Vivian, today is the first day of the rest of your life, I said as I opened my laptop. I d mainly done Instagram while at the wine event, and there were some advantages over recording for YouTube even if Insta wasn t as easy as I d thought. Often, I d taken thirty pictures just to get one that might look right on Instagram. It was a different kind of frustration.

After some deliberation over YouTube versus Instagram, I spent the morning making a video about Lucky s Adventures and Subsequent Return. She was less than cooperative because, well, cat.

My wine country videos would have to wait. I simply didn t have the bandwidth to edit those at the moment. The shipment from Vine Friends hadn t arrived yet anyway, and I wanted to intersperse footage from California with wine tastings at home-preferably with friends.

If I still had those.

Restless, I decided to check out the responses to the survey I d posted before my trip while eating a lunch of stale tortilla chips and sadness.

This channel started off cool, but now it s boring.

What happened to Mr. Always? I want to see more stories about him.

Maybe you should just beg your husband to take you back because I think you ve run out of ideas.

It s fine.

You curse and drink too much.

What happened to the crafts? Now it s all about parties and you showing off.

On and on they continued in this vein. It felt like a completely different audience had answered my survey. I flipped over to the Lucky video to check the comments there and was awash in cognitive dissonance.

Yay!

I m so glad she came home!

God is good!

I m so glad Lucky s home!

Did Mr. Always find her?

I toggled from those comments to the survey and back to the video comments, then back to the survey . . .

When people are anonymous, they re either truthful or mean or both.

I wanted a hole to form in my office, and I wanted the hole to swallow me up.

A part of me had always known that the people cheering me on weren t entirely sincere, at least not all of them. But Mom had warned me. She d told me that this was an illusion of success.

Abi wasn t mad at me for my videos; she was probably mad because I hadn t stopped by to see Barney. If she was mad at all. Maybe I was projecting that emotion on her while she was really just worried about her dog.

And Rachel? She had good reason to be mad at me; I had possibly gotten her fired. Not intentionally, of course, but when it comes to getting fired, do intentions matter?

Mom? She had every reason to be mad at me as well. Letting Lucky out of the house had been an accident. She d dropped everything to come help me, and I d hardly said thank you. Even worse, I d made fun of her in a public forum.

That was before I factored in how Dylan had found out about his parents lack of a sex life through a video. Or even how I d caused Mitch to lose patients.

He had clearly been in the wrong, but two wrongs did not make a right.

I had given up honest-to-goodness friends and alienated my family on a quest for positive comments from strangers. If I continued in this vein, I would end up like Larry and Moe, ridiculing newcomers while jockeying for viewers and likes and shares as if life were a zero-sum game.

My email pinged. I would ve ignored the banner except it mentioned Google AdSense, and those were the people who were going to be paying me. I eagerly switched over to email and read how my first payment wouldn t actually be hitting my bank account for another three weeks because all payments were a month behind, but . . . that whopping payment would be $217.14.

I laughed.

And then I cried.

And then I laughed some more.

Mitch had bought into the illusion, too. He had thought I would be making money to the point that he had asked for a portion of my future earnings. He might as well have asked for blood from my future turnips.

You ve got to learn to stand on your own two feet.

And, for now, I needed a pair of shoes that were sturdier than my Louboutins. A pair of figurative work boots, if you will-or something with really great arch support for my new Target gig.

I drew out my phone and texted: Mom, you were right. About everything.

But I couldn t bring myself to hit send.

What kind of pipe dream had it been to think that I could make a career out of being a Mom Scout? I d done very little research. I hadn t made my videos strategically, usually just reacting to what was happening to me at the time. I d gotten lucky.

I d been granted fifteen minutes of fame, and now it was well over twenty-four hours later.

When it came to grieving my marriage, I d spent my time in denial instead.

Well, I didn t have time for denial anymore. And two hundred dollars was two hundred dollars.

I had just opened my laptop and was trying to talk myself into making a video about something, anything, when the doorbell rang.

I got up to see my friendly neighborhood FedEx man with the shipment of wine I d been promised. Donna must ve shipped before she even announced. I signed for it and set it just inside the doorway before returning to my laptop.

Lucky jumped into my lap with a half-purr and half-oomph sound, and I began absently stroking her fur. I took a deep breath and put on my recording smile, but the doorbell rang again. It couldn t be another wine shipment, so I decided to ignore it. I needed Lucky to forgive me for the bath so I could love on her, and she tended to hold a grudge if I put her on the floor after she had so graciously jumped into my lap.

The doorbell rang again.

Look, we ll have to cuddle later, I said to the cat as I gently set her on the floor.

I steeled myself before opening the door, but I still wasn t prepared for . . . Mitch.

May I come in? he asked, his voice muffled by the glass storm door between us.

I took in his demeanor, more angst than anger. He had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on his heels, something he did when he was worried or unsure. I hated that I knew that, but a person couldn t erase over twenty years of married life that easily, no matter how hard they tried.

Not that Mitch had had much trouble.

Vivian?

I opened the door and gestured for him to enter.

I m glad you found your cat.

Thanks, I didn t realize you watched my videos.

Of course I did. I mean, I do.

I sat down on the couch, but Mitch continued to pace all the way into the living room.

What s the problem, Mitchell? I finally asked.

Well. He studied our wedding picture that sat on the mantel. There we were in all our young and stupid glory. He wore navy, and I wore an ivory suit of my mother s. I looked like a little girl playing dress-up, which, I suppose, I had been.

I really should ve put that damn thing away already.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, studying the younger us in the picture. I ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day.

Which thing?

Oh, about how I hadn t thought any of this through, that maybe I was having a midlife crisis.

Maybe?

I didn t say anything.

He turned to lock eyes with me. I think I ve made a mistake.

Which is? I wasn t about to make things easy for him. Making life difficult for him should ve felt more gratifying than it actually did, but it went against years of training. I really just wanted him to go away.

Anger flashed behind his eyes, but he tamped it down quickly. Well, I ve made a lot of mistakes recently-

Tell me about it.

But the biggest one was leaving you.

I waited for my heart to melt, for my world to go back to rights. Instead, I found myself saying, And?

And I shouldn t have said any of those mean things.

My eyebrow went up just another millimeter.

And I m sorry.

He looked at me expectantly, even jerked his chin slightly in a come on, now it s your turn gesture.

I rolled my shoulders back. I would say apology accepted, but I think we both know it won t be that easy. I will say that I am attempting to accept your apology.

And?

And I m sorry about the video and any grief it might have caused you, but I m mainly sorry because I put our business out on Front Street where our son could see it.

There. There was some relief, some closure.

And?

This time, all I could feel was confusion. And what?

You ll take me back, right?

There it was, a solution to all my problems. All I had to do was tell Mitch we were back together, and the divorce would go away. The pricey lawyers would go away. My need for a job would go away. My son would be happy. I wouldn t have to move. I would never have to make another video again, and I wouldn t have to beg for a seasonal job from the Target manager, something I was about to do.

No.

No? He looked as confused as I felt, but I still knew the answer was no. It was the first sure thing I d felt in a very long time, because our perfect marriage had been nothing more than an illusion. The reality was something else entirely.

I guess I m not saying never if . . . no, I think I m saying never. What we had is broken, Mitch. You broke it.

He walked over to the couch and got down on his knees, taking both my hands in his. We can fix it. I ll go to counseling. I ll let you keep doing those videos you like-

You ll let me?

Anger flickered in his eyes before fizzling once again. Bad choice of words. You know what I mean.

I thought about it. I squeezed his hands and thought about how different they felt from Parker s. Not a single bit of electricity surged up my arm.

I leaned forward to kiss him. He took it as an encouraging sign as I gauged my own reaction.

Nope.

I didn t even like the way he kissed. He went for too much tongue too fast. Now his arms were wrapping around me, and I pushed him away as gently as I could.

Vivian?

I shook my head.

All the mean words he d said earlier hung between us. No matter what he said now, I knew they were true for him. He really did think of me as a cold fish. And if he d lied to me about something as simple as my chicken salad, then what else had he not told me? What other resentments did he harbor?

Oh my gosh, Mitch. What could you possibly want from me now?

Want from you?

Yes. What changed your mind?

He shifted a bit, the hardwood floor no doubt rough on his knees. I could tell him to stand up, but I didn t feel like it. If he was in pain, then he needed to mention it rather than just kneel there so he could blame me for the pain later.

I, well, I guess I saw how hot you were in the New York video and how much fun you were having at that thing in Napa. I could see for the first time in a long time how beautiful you were, I mean, are, and it was . . . I just . . . Well, Vivian, I want you back.

Ah, well. Good to know I d fooled all those people watching my videos into thinking I was having a grand old time.

And all of those expensive things for free! he added.

Oh, money.

And I was thinking about all the money we were wasting on these lawyers.

Yes, money. Bingo!

Mitchell, what is my favorite color?

The expression on his face suggested he thought I d lost my ever-loving mind. Blue?

I shook my head.

Pink? Purple?

I sighed. This isn t going to work. You might as well get up, since I know the floor has to be murder on your knees.

His mouth dropped open in shock. What is it going to take to win you back? Do you want me to beg? To grovel? To buy you a new car? A bigger diamond? What?

Nothing, Mitch. I m all cried out, and I deserve to be with someone who at least knows what my favorite color is.

I d swear it was blue!

No, Mitchell. That s your favorite color.

He didn t even bother to look embarrassed, but he did get to his feet, slowly and with a grunt. Then he shot me an embarrassed look. Yeah, neither one of us was a spring chicken. And speaking of-

Where s Tabitha?

At home in her apartment.

Did you break up with her before coming over here?

Color rushed to his ears and cheeks. No.

Still hedging your bets, I see. You should go now. She s going to need you. The baby s going to need you.

Come on, Vivian, it s not like that.

Then how is it?

I . . . I . . .

I crossed my arms over my chest and let him flounder a bit before I added, You re afraid of being alone? You needed to keep your options open? You miss someone who does your laundry? Yes?

Dammit, Vivian.

Careful, or you ll wear my name out.

He started to run a hand through his hair but stopped. Can t you just take me back, Viv? For old time s sake?

No, baby, no.

For Dylan s sake?

My stomach clenched. That was a low blow, and he knew it, but I couldn t even take him back for Dylan. I shook my head.

He howled in frustration. But why not?

Because you don t love me.

The words burrowed through my chest and into my soul, so I knew they were true. I m not sure you ever did. I think you loved the idea of me. I think, when we were younger, you saw yourself as some kind of nerd, but then you grew up and filled out and got LASIK and hair plugs and fixed your teeth. Suddenly, I wasn t looking so hot after my one baby and four miscarriages. Suddenly, I wasn t the life of the party anymore because you left me at home. I wasn t who you thought I was, and I m not what you need.

But what about you?

Oh, now you ask that question.

Come on, Vivian, give me a break.

I need someone who sees me, really sees me.

But I see you!

No, you don t. Just help Dylan get through college, will ya? I m going to have a hard time finding a job that pays well enough to do that, and I d hate to saddle him with loans at this point.

What about your YouTube stuff?

Smoke and mirrors, I m afraid. My first check is going to be a little over two hundred dollars. Still want to take your pound of flesh?

Surprise widened his eyes, but then they narrowed in cunning. But if you take me back, then you don t have to worry about any of that. Vivian, please.

It s a no from me, Mitchell. If you d never filled out those papers and if you d never had an affair, maybe we would ve made it. Would we have been happy? I don t know. Content, maybe. But I can t. I can t be with you knowing you only choose me when you re afraid of something else.

That s not fair!

It s totally fair! I dedicated my whole life to your and Dylan s welfare because I thought that was what you wanted. That s what you said you wanted. And now I see you asked me to marry you so you could get laid. Then you actually did marry me because I was pregnant but also because it did your ego good to have a wife. Then you kept me around because we had Dylan and you enjoyed a clean house, clean clothes, supper every night at six, and fully planned vacations. I guess having cold-fish sex was better than having no sex at all.

He winced. I never should ve said that. I don t know what got into me. I wanted to feel attractive, and Tabitha made me feel attractive, and-

And she told you she d marry you if you divorced me?

He couldn t meet my gaze. Yeah.

Well, there you go. She needs you now more than I do. But, for heaven s sake, don t marry her unless you really love her.

I don t want to marry her, though. I want-

Have a great life, Mitchell, I said. Let s see if we can rein in our lawyers when next we meet.

And we ll sell the house?

No. I m not selling this house.

Then I m not increasing the alimony.

I sighed deeply. Fine. Just let me have the house and get out of my life.

He stopped at the door and turned around. We did have some good times, didn t we, Viv?

I thought so, I said.

He nodded in agreement and left.

As I watched him walk away, it felt as though a heavy boulder had been lifted from my chest. For years, my biggest fear had been that my husband would leave me just like my father had left my mother.

Turns out, watching my mother leave had hurt a whole helluva lot more.