Chapter 6: Harder Choices

Before seeking Margareta's wise counsel, Errol was determined to make Willie sit down with him and listen to his view of her rosy projection for their future. The dishes were in the washer, the pots and pans were clean and hanging from the rack, and the counters were all wiped down. He turned off the lights in the kitchen and wandered into the living room, thinking about how to begin the conversation and how to express his misgivings to her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings, but she was rushing hell-bent for leather toward what she considered to be domestic bliss, and dragging him along in her wake. It was time for a reality check.

She was curled up on the couch reading a book. She looked up when he entered the room and patted the cushion beside her. "That was a super dinner, hon! You sure impressed the hell out of Margareta. Well, me too, as usual."

"I'm glad she liked it, because I sure owe her big time." He sat beside her and just got right into it. "Um, do you feel up to a little serious talking? There's a couple of things we need to hash out."

She knitted her brow in concern and put her book down. "Hash out? Are we gonna argue about something? Because if we are, you've caught me unprepared."

Errol took her hand. "That's because you haven't been paying attention. In fact, you haven't been listening to me at all."

"About what?"

"Look, several times you've talked about your plans for our future, but you haven't once asked me if it's what I want. You've implied marriage, you've specifically mentioned kids, and you go on and on about how we'll travel for awhile, then settle into a perfect domestic life. You seem to have everything all planned out for us, and still you haven't asked me if it's what I want. Well, I'm not ready for your future, Willie. I've tried to make that clear, but you just keep on talking like what I'm saying doesn't even make it to your ears."

"I don't understand, Errol. I thought all that was holding you back was running from the law. Now that it's resolved, I should think you'd be more than ready to get on with a normal life. Am I wrong?"

How to explain! "Not entirely, but there are some things you apparently haven't picked up on. Way before this thing in Ohio happened, I was already out drifting around the country because I had a lot of personal issues to resolve. I'm still far too unsettled to commit to a marriage and a family. It wouldn't be fair to either of us, and it sure as hell wouldn't be fair to any kids. Look, I don't know if it's some manifestation of PTSD or just my own emotional immaturity, but I can't wrap my brain around the idea of home and family. I can't and I won't make any promises to you about that."

She sat staring at him, tears flooding her eyes. She reached over and took a tissue from the box to blow her nose. "Aren't you happy here? I thought you loved me!"

"I have been happy here, and I do love you, in my own way. But the kind of love you're talking about takes time to grow. I enjoy your company and I love having sex with you, but those things aren't enough to lock me into a commitment to a marriage that has a very good chance of failing because I'm not ready for it. You've been making a lot of assumptions that just aren't accurate, Willie."

It shouldn't have been a complete surprise to him that she reacted the way she did, like a spoiled child. She pushed him away from her and stood glaring down at him. "Well pardon me all to hell for my stupid assumptions! Obviously, I've been misreading you all along! Silly me, huh?"

He shook his head in disappointment. "Willie, we need to talk this thing out. Will you please just sit back down and calm yourself?"

"Shove it up your ass! I guess all you were really interested in was some free groceries and a convenient fuck!" He was completely taken by surprise by her comments, even more surprised when she slapped him across the face. Hard. He had to fight down a powerful compulsion to return the favor. He took a couple of deep breaths, stood and headed up the stairs to pack his bag.

He packed only what he'd paid for himself. He would leave behind the parka, the sweaters, even the underwear. Well, not the underwear, because he'd won that in a bet. As he was stuffing his bag, he heard her stomp down the hall and slam her bedroom door.

So be it, he thought. He took one look around and tossed the house keys on the bed.

There was a light snow falling as he backed the Volvo out of the garage. He'd get a room at that motel they stayed at that first night, if they had one available. He'd call Margareta in the morning and tell her what happened, then he'd head on down to Santa Fe or Albuquerque as originally planned. As he drove toward town, he was thinking, Was I really that wrong about her? She seemed so together when we first met. Now she's acting like a petulant thirteen year-old. A very rich, spoiled rotten, petulant thirteen year-old.

He got to the motel only to discover that they had no rooms. The lady at the desk said there wasn't much chance of finding a room anywhere in town this late because it was the weekend and ski season was well underway.

That was a big disappointment because he was feeling too tired to drive down to Santa Fe. On a whim, he asked if he could use the phone and called Margareta at her home. She was the only other person in town he knew well enough to ask.

She answered on the second ring. He explained briefly what had happened with Willie and asked if it would be possible for her to put him up for one night, promising to leave early the next morning. She expressed her sorrow for what happened and said she'd be happy to put him up in her spare bedroom, but that he'd have to promise to stay for breakfast, at least, so they could talk. It would be Saturday and she didn't need to go to her office.

She escorted him from the front door directly to his room, suggesting they sleep on it before trying to fathom out the whys and wherefores.

Next morning, following his nose to the smell of fresh coffee, Errol shuffled into the kitchen wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. Margareta was sitting at the table dressed in a deep gold plush robe and fuzzy slippers. Early mornings didn't seem to detract from her elegance and composure.

She smiled up at him and tilted her head toward the coffee pot. "Help yourself. There's half and half in the fridge if you want. I was planning on just having some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, if that's okay with you."

"Sounds great. Thanks."

He poured a large mug and took the chair across the table from her. "I'm really sorry about imposing on you like this. I guess motel rooms are as rare as hen's teeth during ski season."

"Yes, that and Thanksgiving is next week."

"Is it? I guess I forgot. Anyhow, my apologies."

"Please don't apologize; I was happy to do it. Can you tell me what happened with Willie, or would you rather wait until the morning brain fog clears?"

He took a sip of his coffee. "Somehow, I think you already have a pretty good idea what happened. I tried to sit down and talk to her about the gap between her aspirations to a life of wedded bliss, and the reality of living with a damaged soul like me. It got ugly in a hurry."

"How so?"

"Well, she accused me of sponging off of her and using her for my own sexual gratification, then she hauled off and slapped the shit out of me."

Margareta's hand came up to her throat and she gasped, "Oh my lord! She didn't!"

"She did. It's like she suddenly regressed ten years to her early teens. No more was said after that. I just went upstairs and packed my stuff. I didn't expect it to end like this, Margareta, but maybe it's for the best, if that's the kind of person that lives inside her."

She reached across the table to pat his hand. "Errol, that's the kind of person that lives inside all of us, in one form or another. Whatever you said to her crushed all her hopes and dreams in one fell swoop, so of course she was angry. If she couldn't find the proper words to express herself, lashing out physically was probably the only outlet left for her. It's disappointing that she couldn't exercise a little better control, though."

"Yeah, well I'm glad I didn't follow through with my first compulsion to slap her back. It was close though."

"I'm so relieved you didn't do that. Considering what happened to the child molester, losing your temper could have had terrible consequences. No, you did exactly the right thing. Now I'm going to ask a big favor."

"Yeah? You name it, because I sure owe you one."

"You owe me nothing. The favor is something you need to do for yourself. I want you to stick around for a few days to let this thing quiet down. There's not a doubt in my mind that Willie is already regretting what she did and said. Hell, she probably cried all night. And I'm not suggesting either of you go crawling back to the other begging forgiveness. There's no need to demean yourselves like that. Just wait long enough that you can sit down and have a nice quiet talk to work it out."

"Margareta, that's exactly what I was trying to do."

"Yes but you dumped it on her all at once. Give her time to think over what you said, and I think she'll be a lot more willing to see your viewpoint."

"I did't dump it on her all at once. I've been trying to tell her all along. She just wasn't listening."

"No, she wasn't listening, but I bet she is now. Will you stay?"

He sat back in his chair and considered it for a few seconds. "Yeah, I suppose I should. But to be honest with you, Margareta, I don't see us getting back together. I've seen a side of her that I didn't know was there, and I didn't like it."

"To be honest with you, Errol, I don't see you getting back together either. But if that's what's in the cards, it's better you part friends than enemies. The thing is, you're a complex man, holding in so much pain that you can't help having a rather dim view of the world. Willie is the eternal optimist, and she wears her heart on her sleeve. You're an anachronism, Errol, an old man's soul in a young man's body. You and Willie will never be on a level playing field, if you get my meaning."

"I think I do. And you're right about me. Sometimes I feel very, very old. Like now, for instance. In general, people disappoint me, but you're an exception to that rule. I feel like I can talk to you and you'll understand everything that comes out of my mouth. I can't remember the last time I felt like that."

She chuckled and got up to cook their breakfast. "Maybe we're both old souls. Too bad you're half my age."

Errol hung around Margareta's house all weekend, doing very little other than trying to stay out of her way as she bustled about doing her housework. She welcomed his suggestion that he cook dinner for them Saturday and Sunday evening. The food was so tasty and so beautifully presented that it gave her an idea that she'd approach him with, once she had a chance to talk to Willie.

That didn't happen until late Sunday evening. Willie called her, saying she just needed a friendly ear to listen to her. She told Margareta what happened, pretty much in agreement with what Errol had described. A couple of times during the long phone conversation, Willie broke down and wept. She felt horrid about slapping him, and she admitted that Errol had tried several times to slow her rush to the altar. She guessed she was afraid he'd walk out of her life before she could get him committed. Cornering him into marriage seemed like a good idea at the time, but she could see that it was a disastrous idea in retrospect.