had seen it differently. After numerous long-winded discussions during which I was reminded that our home wasn’t just for family enjoyment but also for entertaining clients, I finally succumbed to his design plan. And that was how our new home came to be furnished with two low-slung navy blue leather couches along with a number of other very contemporary pieces Geoffrey had found at a Scandinavian design store. He’d been assisted by a tall blond woman named Ingrid, who I suspected had made up the name as well as the accent to go along with the job. Naturally, I’d kept these thoughts to myself.
The only things I really liked about our interior design was the rich color of the oak floors and the old Oriental carpets that I had managed to convince Geoffrey to keep. “For sentimental purposes,” I’d told him. Of course, I also liked the high vaulted ceilings and wide expanse of windows that looked down the hill to the city below. But those navy blue sofas always left me feeling chilled. And even in the summertime, I’d find myself reaching for the thick chenille blanket that I always kept handy It was a bright cranberry color that Geoffrey said looked garish but I liked. I picked up the blanket now, holding it close to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked myself. My voice sounded hollow and empty, lost in all the space of the house. Then I wrapped the chenille throw around me and sat down on the leather sofa and attempted to think, trying to remember what exactly had brought me to this place of confusion and unrest. Surely it wasn’t just the condition of my garden.
I knew that Geoffrey and I had argued yesterday. Nothing new about that, at least not lately, not since our son had begun pushing and pulling us in every imaginable direction. But then Geoffrey had engaged with Jacob, even to the point of getting physical, and then he’d told him in no uncertain terms to leave our home. He’d actually told our son he wasn’t welcome here anymore. That was what had cut so deeply. But was that really why I’d left? I felt confused, unsure about almost everything. What was it that had really made me give up like this?
Of course I’d been devastated to discover the sorry state of my garden—not unlike the sorry state of my life. But that was no reason to leave my husband of twenty-five years. Only a crazy woman would do that. Really, I had to ask myself, what was going on here? Was this how people ended up in mental hospitals? I stood up and walked over to the door of Geoffrey’s study. As always, everything was in its perfect place. I had usually avoided this room, had never felt comfortable or welcome there. But today I walked in and looked around. I sat down in the big leather chair at his desk and tried to imagine what it felt like to be Geoffrey Harmon. And for the first time in a long time I wondered if he was happy. He sure didn’t seem happy. And more and more lately he seemed to be particularly unhappy with me. It was as if I could never quite measure up to his expectations. I absently pulled open the top drawer of his desk to find everything in its place. But a blank, white envelope caught my attention. I opened it to find several photographs that appeared to have been taken at city hall, apparently on Geoffrey’s last birthday (his fiftieth) since he was the center of attention and standing in front of a big sheet cake. I flippedthrough the photos and started to replace the envelope when something stopped me. I took a second look at a photo where Geoffrey was standing with the city manager, Judith Ramsey. Several other city employees were in the picture as well, but something about the expressions on both Judith’s and Geoffrey’s faces stopped me. They both looked so happy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Geoffrey looking that happy Or maybe, like so many other things, I’d missed it.
I put the photos back in the envelope, replacing them in their exact spot in the desk, and in that
The only things I really liked about our interior design was the rich color of the oak floors and the old Oriental carpets that I had managed to convince Geoffrey to keep. “For sentimental purposes,” I’d told him. Of course, I also liked the high vaulted ceilings and wide expanse of windows that looked down the hill to the city below. But those navy blue sofas always left me feeling chilled. And even in the summertime, I’d find myself reaching for the thick chenille blanket that I always kept handy It was a bright cranberry color that Geoffrey said looked garish but I liked. I picked up the blanket now, holding it close to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked myself. My voice sounded hollow and empty, lost in all the space of the house. Then I wrapped the chenille throw around me and sat down on the leather sofa and attempted to think, trying to remember what exactly had brought me to this place of confusion and unrest. Surely it wasn’t just the condition of my garden.
I knew that Geoffrey and I had argued yesterday. Nothing new about that, at least not lately, not since our son had begun pushing and pulling us in every imaginable direction. But then Geoffrey had engaged with Jacob, even to the point of getting physical, and then he’d told him in no uncertain terms to leave our home. He’d actually told our son he wasn’t welcome here anymore. That was what had cut so deeply. But was that really why I’d left? I felt confused, unsure about almost everything. What was it that had really made me give up like this?
Of course I’d been devastated to discover the sorry state of my garden—not unlike the sorry state of my life. But that was no reason to leave my husband of twenty-five years. Only a crazy woman would do that. Really, I had to ask myself, what was going on here? Was this how people ended up in mental hospitals? I stood up and walked over to the door of Geoffrey’s study. As always, everything was in its perfect place. I had usually avoided this room, had never felt comfortable or welcome there. But today I walked in and looked around. I sat down in the big leather chair at his desk and tried to imagine what it felt like to be Geoffrey Harmon. And for the first time in a long time I wondered if he was happy. He sure didn’t seem happy. And more and more lately he seemed to be particularly unhappy with me. It was as if I could never quite measure up to his expectations. I absently pulled open the top drawer of his desk to find everything in its place. But a blank, white envelope caught my attention. I opened it to find several photographs that appeared to have been taken at city hall, apparently on Geoffrey’s last birthday (his fiftieth) since he was the center of attention and standing in front of a big sheet cake. I flippedthrough the photos and started to replace the envelope when something stopped me. I took a second look at a photo where Geoffrey was standing with the city manager, Judith Ramsey. Several other city employees were in the picture as well, but something about the expressions on both Judith’s and Geoffrey’s faces stopped me. They both looked so happy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Geoffrey looking that happy Or maybe, like so many other things, I’d missed it.
I put the photos back in the envelope, replacing them in their exact spot in the desk, and in that
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