England \u2013 February 2004<\/p>\n
February in England is surprisingly less dreary than Connecticut. During the two-hour drive from the airport to the West Midlands, I marveled at the green fields bordered by daffodils shimmering in the odd flash of sun. We would not be seeing these sunny flowers in Connecticut for many more weeks. The warmth of the morning burned off the fog and a soft light glistened over the landscape. Molly\u2019s nose was pressed against the window with excitement while Neil pointed out landmarks, sheep and cows. He seemed shy as if we were distant relatives come to visit as he suggested plans for the day. I made listening noises, keeping my jet-lagged gaze on the fields, crisscrossed by stonewalls and hedgerows.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll take you back to my flat first. It\u2019s not much, but I think you\u2019ll like it. You can have a kip first and take a nice, hot bath. And then we can go over and visit your sisters and meet your new little nephew \u2013 would you like that? You haven\u2019t really been around babies have you sausage? And I thought we\u2019d go to the pub tonight for dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds good,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll wait tomorrow to see my mum \u2013 the old bag,\u201d he said with tenderness, laughing at his own insult.<\/p>\n
\u201cEveryone is excited to see you. Later on this week we\u2019re going to do a nice dinner at the pub with all of the family. That is, if you want to…\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure. Moll should meet all her relatives, right sweetie? Makes up for what she doesn\u2019t have from my side of the family,\u201d I said, turning back to at her with a smile. She ignored me.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My mother died when Molly was two. Through much of my adult life I\u2019d kept my distance both physically and emotionally from her, frustrated by her excessive drinking. I avoided what often turned into maudlin phone conversations weeping about a friend\u2019s real or imagined tragedy, by only calling her in the morning or early afternoon. Our relationship changed when we returned to the States with 1 year-old Molly. She fell in love with her only grandchild. I welcomed this warmer dimension in our relationship and looked forward to living close by for the first time. When she was diagnosed with lung cancer less than a year later, I felt cheated. My emotionally icy father and his wife migrated to a warmer state where he succumbed a few years later from Lewy-Body Dementia without any real connection ever materializing. None of my siblings ever had children so Molly had no cousins in the States. She couldn\u2019t wait to romp around with a bunch of English relatives her age. At least she\u2019d be busy here.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We pulled into a narrow street of neat, stucco row houses, stopping at the only one with a garden and a gate in front.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere we are!\u201d Neil announced proudly.<\/p>\n
We climbed out of the car, dragging our bags and coats out of the trunk. I pictured myself climbing into bed for a nap, but Molly was raring to go. Neil read my mind.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll make you a cup of tea and you can have a sleep. I\u2019ll take Molly down to the pub and she can see her uncle and anyone else who is there. And maybe we can stop and get you a sweetie while we\u2019re at it, would you like that poppit? English candy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Molly nodded vigorously.<\/p>\n
We followed Neil into the narrow house, charming and inviting with pillows on the settee and flowers on the mantel. Just beyond this front living room were steep stairs leading to the bedrooms. As promised, he delivered me to a bright room looking out over a small, already-green patch of garden.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis can be your room,\u201d he said. I felt him watching me as I put my stuff on the beautifully made up bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks. It\u2019s a lovely room.\u201d<\/p>\n
I pretended to search through my bag rather than note what I imagined would be his disappointment that I didn\u2019t argue that the room was ours, not mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll go make your tea while you get settled.\u201d<\/p>\n
He disappeared down the stairs with Molly, on her second wind, rattling on behind him. A few minutes later he delivered tea and a few biscuits. \u201cWe\u2019re going now. Everyone\u2019s anxious to see Mollster.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked nervous and made no attempt to embrace me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Say hi. I\u2019ll see them later.\u201d I fake-smiled from across the room.<\/p>\n
When I heard the front door shut, I climbed under the quilt and burrowed into the pillows. The bedding smelled of laundry detergent mixed with the familiar scent of Neil. Closing my eyes, I wished I could stay hidden here for the rest of the week. Beyond jet lag, I was exhausted by the part of cordial spouse. I needed to get through the week without fighting, without any emotional scenes. He had promised to do the same, although his promises were worthless. And he was so jittery: Using? Withdrawing? I needed to stop speculating, to stop asking that question. There was nothing I could do.<\/p>\n
I woke a few hours later and lay in bed looking around the room, out at the garden. On the wall was one of the only paintings I\u2019d done in years: our house in a snowstorm. I stared at the smudgy image of our little cape wishing myself there in front of the fireplace with the dog on my lap and Molly beside me. I sat up in bed and listened carefully for voices and heard none. I was still alone. Descending carefully down the steep stairs, I went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. How strange to be a visitor in my husband\u2019s home – the man that up until a few months ago, I\u2019d intimately shared space with for a decade. Resisting my urge to search the flat, I curled up on the couch, the mug warming my hands. If only I could fast-forward the days.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Molly reveled in being the center of attention of her newly discovered relatives. Older, doting cousins and younger playmates were all eager to spend time with their American cousin. Neil continued to be on his best behavior, acting the wonderful host. I disappeared up to bed by myself each night, leaving Molly and Neil to watch movies. He looked pained as I airily said goodnight before quickly retreating up the stairs alone. I tried not to pay attention. I could not share a bed with him.<\/p>\n
Yet there were moments that reminded me why I\u2019d fallen for Neil almost a decade ago as he showed us around, engaging and charming strangers everywhere we went, sharing his glee with new discoveries, entertaining us with anecdotes about old haunts. Watching him striding ahead with his daughter in tow, conjured countless trips together when we believed the world was ours. This<\/em> is the man I fell in love with. I still wanted this man who, at least superficially, was taking care of us, who knew the best way and brought us there with adventure, good humor and warmth. Always generous, he paid for everything as if he\u2019d all of a sudden come into money. I didn\u2019t argue although I knew it was a charade: at his flat I\u2019d found letters from his landlord demanding back-rent. Someone from a bank left messages with me saying it was urgent Neil returned the call. Collections were more polite in England, but the intent was unmistakable. I didn\u2019t know what he was up to, where he had gotten the money he spent on us, and I didn\u2019t ask. As we played a family of tourists, I tried to enjoy the moment, pretending again, for Molly\u2019s sake. But clearly he had not changed; he was digging himself into another mess.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A bottle of anti-depressants sat on a shelf above the kitchen sink. This was his place and in trying to detach from him and his demons, I did not snoop for other substances. Lucy said she had put the word out on the streets of this small town asking nobody to sell him anything. She believed he was clean. He and I circled each other warily, Neil solicitous and me, the perfect guest. I did laundry and dishes, my clenched-jaw-smile in place. We spent the days visiting Molly\u2019s sisters and their kids and lived the typical life of this West Midlands town, meeting up with relatives for lunch and sometimes dinner at the pub and drinking endless cups of tea on the settee while watching \u2018Coronation Street\u2019 and \u2018East Enders\u2019 and other favorite English soap opera reruns. I admired the Neil who left so many years ago to find a world and challenge beyond this world. What a waste that cocaine destroyed his dreams, our dreams.<\/p>\n Molly came in to the bedroom where I lay reading. Only two more nights to go.<\/p>\n \u201cMommy, Daddy is downstairs crying. Can\u2019t he sleep here with you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, Mommy. Can Daddy sleep here with you? He\u2019s crying, Mommy.\u201d Molly repeated, her big eyes imploring me to do something.<\/p>\n \u201cHoney, please don\u2019t do this\u2026 I\u2019ll go talk to Daddy. You get into bed now and I\u2019ll come up and kiss you goodnight.\u201d I took her hand and led her into the other bedroom that Neil imagined as Molly\u2019s. One of his adult nephews assigned by the family to watch over him, used this room. Neil hadn\u2019t bothered to clean it up. The floor was strewn with clothing and the odd girlie magazine.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease Mommy, go to Daddy,\u201d she pleaded.<\/p>\n \u201cI’ll go talk to him. You know this isn\u2019t simple, right? I can’t just fix this.\u201d<\/p>\n I knew she knew \u2013 we were on this roller coaster together, her and I. And I needed to show her there was a way off. From a young age, Molly\u2019s empathy was off-the-charts, rushing to comfort anyone crying. When we argued, she conceded the minute my eyes welled, embracing me before any tears could fall. It must horrify her to see her father weep and I knew, he knew the best way to get to me was through her.<\/p>\n I pulled the quilt up to Molly\u2019s chin and braced myself as I walked sideways down the treacherous stairs lit by the glow of the muted television. Neil lay with his face in a pillow, muffling the sobs shuddering his body. I knelt beside him and put my hand on his back, watching myself as if it was someone else touching him. I knew Molly was straining to hear us from upstairs so I needed to do this, to reach out to him, to try and give him comfort \u2013 for her. I wanted to run back upstairs and put my head under a pillow and sleep. Instead, I whispered sharply, \u201cNeil! Please stop crying. Please. I\u2019m doing everything I can. Please try and stop crying, it\u2019s really upsetting Molly.\u201d<\/p>\n He took a few breaths and looked up at me, his face streaked with tears.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s hopeless, isn\u2019t it? You\u2019ll never love me again!\u201d<\/p>\n We had been doing so well avoiding any scenes, I didn\u2019t want one now. I took a deep breath and for a change, thought carefully before lying,<\/p>\n \u201cNothing is ever hopeless, Neil. We\u2019re here, aren\u2019t we? You just need to do your thing. We\u2019re always going to be in your life, it\u2019s going to take time. I\u2019m sorry but there\u2019s just been a lot of damage done. I just can\u2019t share a bed with you right now. It\u2019s too complicated\u2026\u201d my voice trailed off.<\/p>\n \u201cI know. I\u2019ve lost you. I\u2019ve fucked up and I\u2019ve lost you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNeil, come on.\u201d<\/p>\n He reached up and took my hand, clutching it to his chest.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, for Molly\u2019s sake, please stop crying. Listen, I\u2019ll stay down here on this other couch tonight and we\u2019ll watch television together, ok?\u201d I offered.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll take what I can get,\u201d he said, his despondency cutting.<\/p>\n Molly appeared from around the corner and climbed onto the couch between us. Neil let go of my hand and shifted over so she could scoot in beside him.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry I was upset, honey. Daddy\u2019s better now. I love you sausage,\u201d Neil said.<\/p>\n \u201cI love you too Daddy.\u201d Molly looked at me expectantly as she said this. It was my turn. I said nothing. I wouldn\u2019t go that far. Mustering a cheerful voice I said,<\/p>\n \u201cAll right! What\u2019s on television anyway?\u201d I searched the floor for the controls and took my spot on the opposite couch, numb.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The next day Neil hosted a family get-together at his brother\u2019s pub. I made small talk, continuing the charade that everything was fine. Only the girls knew my side of what was going on between us. This was Neil\u2019s world and I didn\u2019t want to meddle with it. They had their own histories. My story was not necessary for them to know, they just needed to be there for him. And Molly. Watching her dancing around the pub with the other children, I knew I was right to make the trip. Molly\u2019s English family would definitely love her and take care of her any time she visited. Neil\u2019s family was huge – brothers, sister, their offspring, aunts, uncles and cousins galore. While I hated the idea of sending Molly off for a month to be with her dad, at least now I would picture where she was.<\/p>\n Neil arranged for Molly to drive to the airport with her sisters while he and I drove alone.<\/p>\n \u201cCould you see yourself living here?\u201d Neil asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I don\u2019t know. Please don\u2019t ask me that now. It\u2019s lovely, there\u2019s no doubt, but it\u2019s not about the place\u2026 you know that.\u201d<\/p>\n In another time not even so long ago, I would have been completely seduced by the green fields we were passing. I would have embraced the chance to live on one of these country lanes. And to be with Neil, growing old together and seizing all our imagined adventures. But those days were done. He frightened me now. My dream was simply to stay in the little house in my Connecticut suburb and be boring. Boring sounded wonderful.<\/p>\n \u201cI want to feel safe, secure and supported. That\u2019s all I want anymore,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n And I\u2019ve finally gotten it through my dense skull that I\u2019ll never, ever have that with you, I thought to myself.<\/p>\n \u201cI am working on becoming that man for you again. For me<\/em>! I really am. You have to believe me!\u201d he said as if reading from a script.<\/p>\n \u201cGood, Neil. I am really glad about that\u201d, I answered as if reading from mine. But I thought: Believe you? I can never believe anything you ever tell me again.<\/em> During the week I answered phone calls from the bank and seen collection letters fall through the mail slot each morning. I knew they were also piling up in our mailbox at home. He had always been like this, hadn\u2019t he? Neil needed to live on the edge of someone else\u2019s crisis \u2013 the bigger the better – like the war in Bosnia where he channeled his \u2018ducking and diving\u2019 nature into helping people rather than conning them. I still completely believed his heart to be good and more generous than most — but his addiction and the dense web of lies and deception he created in his world had overwhelmed his love for Molly and me. I no longer believed there would ever be enough room in Neil\u2019s troubled heart and mind for us. I had given up on a miracle.<\/p>\n We pulled into Heathrow airport and met up with Molly as planned. I was glad for the time bonding with her sisters who both reassured me they would always look after Molly when she visited. We neared the departure area and I felt giddy, anticipating an end to the oppressive feelings of the week, it was all I could do not to break into a run to the gate. Airport security was tight and Neil could go no further. He hugged Molly, repeatedly kissing her face then turned to me, grabbed my arms and planted a kiss on my lips and said forcefully, \u201cI love you!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. Thanks for everything. We better get going!\u201d<\/p>\n Grateful to the people trying to get by us with their luggage, I pulled away from Neil. He continued to call after us as we passed through the automatic doors to the security gates and into departures,<\/p>\n \u201cI love you! I love you both!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI love you too, Daddy!\u201d Molly blew kisses back to his. I waved again and hurried through the security barriers out of sight, the doors shut behind us.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Buckling into my seat, I took a deep breath and felt all my muscles relax. We made it. We were going home. But Molly was agitated.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want to leave Daddy! I want to stay here with him! I want to get off the plane and stay here \u2013 I don\u2019t want to go with you!\u201d<\/p>\n Not sure if my obedient daughter might bolt off the plane, I held her wrist and said,<\/p>\n \u201cI know it\u2019s hard to say goodbye, but Daddy will be coming for a visit in April and you can come back here in the summer and other times as well.\u201d<\/p>\n She glared at me, twisting out of my grip. I wanted to wrap my arms around say: I\u2019m the one you are safe with me. It\u2019s me that looks after you and loves you more than anything. I\u2019m sorry you have a father that can\u2019t do that for you. I\u2019m sorry he needs more attention from you than he can give you — even though you are only eight. I\u2019m sorry he manipulates and uses you. I\u2019m sorry I have to protect you from him. <\/em><\/p>\n Instead, I spoke to her gently,<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you write Daddy a letter and tell him how you are feeling now and we can mail it to him as soon as we get back? I know he\u2019ll want to hear how you are feeling.\u201d<\/p>\n I sounded like a fucking television shrink. Molly was ignoring me anyway, now fussing with the controls to her screen. The crisis was past. The airplane\u2019s engines kicked-in and the noise and tension of departure filled the plane.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" England \u2013 February 2004 February in England is surprisingly less dreary than Connecticut. During the two-hour drive from the airport to the West Midlands, I marveled at the green fields bordered by daffodils shimmering in the odd flash of sun. We would not be seeing these sunny flowers in Connecticut for many more weeks. The … Continue reading Chapter 26<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6294","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pPzTS-1Dw","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6294","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6294"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6294\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6298,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6294\/revisions\/6298"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6294"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6294"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6294"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}