“Hey, Dad, Mom wants you to call her,” Molly said after the opening pleasantries. “Said she’s ready to settle down and grow old with you.”
“Wh-what the fuck?” I stammered.
I was at a complete loss here. With the exception of a few grunts when we had family get-togethers that I just didn’t want to miss, I hadn’t spoken to my ex-wife in 13 years. While it’s tough to just stop loving somebody cold turkey after being married more than 20 years, I was doing my best to do just that. There were no occasional conversations, no notes, nothing. I just acted as if she no longer existed. What the hell was she talking about; growing old with me? Why screw with me after 13 years?
After her affair ended with Jack Axelrod, Traci dated around some before finding husband No. 2, a real estate broker named Steve Gillespie, about three years later. He was a few years older than her at 52, and both my daughters told me he seemed to be a good guy. I never met the guy. I wasn’t invited to the wedding, which was good, because I wouldn’t have gone anyway. When he came on the scene, I stopped going to the family gatherings that I knew Traci would be at. Let them have their grandparent time with no pressure from my presence. I would show up about a week later, sometimes with one of my “girls” with me. They especially liked Stephanie.
About the only good thing I can say about Steve Gillespie is that he wasn’t Jack Axelrod, and I didn’t want to punch him. Oh yeah, when Traci married him I stopped having to pay alimony.
The marriage went seven years before they divorced. The girls mentioned it to me, but they knew better than to try and discuss it with me.
“You still there, Dad?” Molly asked, breaking me out of my reverie.
“Yeah, kid, still here. I’m sorry, got lost in my thoughts.”
“I’m sure you did, Dad. You going to call her? What should I tell her?”
“Tell her that I don’t have her number, and wouldn’t let you give it to me. If she wants to talk to me, she can call me. It’s the same number I’ve had since she and I were married.”
“OK.”
We talked about several other things before she hung up. Apparently she delivered the message, because two days later, Traci called me.
“What the hell do you want?” I growled as I answered the phone, figuring that the phone number I didn’t know was probably her.
“OK, Mickey, you win. You outlasted me. You punished me. Now can we quit all this nonsense and grow old together, like we originally planned about a hundred years ago? Don’t tell me you still don’t love me. I know you date a lot, but I know you’ve never been able to replace me in your heart, the same way I’ve never been able to replace you. Let’s face it, we belong together.”
“Traci, this is the second time you’ve misread me completely,” I said. “The first was when you figured I couldn’t live without you and would let you fuck Jack Axelrod. Now you think that I’ve never remarried because I still love you. I’ve had a great life since we split, Traci; especially wouldn’t trade the last 11 years for anything. We had a wonderful run up until you ended it, and after a few rocky years, I’ve had a wonderful run since. I might eventually want to settle down and grow old with somebody, but you gave up that option when you spread your legs for another man.”