I wondered if everyone reached that point after eight or nine years of marriage, the “Oh my god, I’ve made an enormous mistake” point. I wondered, too, if that point was reached because the person saw all the better options available to them, or because they simply realize what a shit they said “I do” to.
Leaving Carrie probably never would have been an option. Nobody divorces their high school sweetheart. Those were usually the stories that inspired other people. “Oh, look at them—in love since high school. How adorable!” They were also the stories that encouraged other high-schoolers to make the same mistake and jump right in before they could even drink legally, thus starting the cycle over again. Carrie and I had been the reason a few other friends of ours had married young as well. And last I heard, one of the two couples ended quickly in divorce. The other couple was probably still together because of the sex.
April’s situation was obviously more complex. Her husband was most definitely still alive, and the two children probably didn’t make the thought of divorce any easier. The fact that Marco made as much money as he did and enabled her to at least live a “comfortable” lifestyle probably didn’t help either. Living comfortably with a man whose job took him all over the country all of the time probably made his antics easier to live with too. I guess if you could put up with his shit, it wasn’t exactly a terrible scenario.
But was comfort as important as chemistry? As important as the possibility of love? Nobody liked to admit they were wrong, that they chose the wrong person, that all the advice people gave them beforehand was actually correct. People don’t like upsetting the apple-cart. And, I think there reaches a point where people just give up, and say they are going to live with their mistakes, no matter how big they are. Or no matter how unhappy the person really is. I think those people are quitters. Happiness is always attainable, no matter how old or young a person is. They just have to be willing to stand up and fight for it. To say—”I’ve put up with this shit long enough, but not anymore. Now, I am living for myself, and my own happiness.”
I wanted to take April by the shoulders and tell her this, tell her she didn’t have to live in the lavish hell Marco had created for her. She could be happy. It didn’t even have to be with me, but she needed to be happy somewhere, with someone who would treat her like she deserved to be treated.
My feelings for April were there the moment I saw her. The way my heart had momentarily stopped when I had first seen her, and the way it went into overdrive right after that. I could see a thousand women a day for the rest of my life and probably not have that initial reaction with any of them. I liked Holly. I was really liking the woman she was becoming. But Holly had never made me feel the way April did in the first few minutes. I guess you could say that April gave me butterflies, even though that wasn’t a very manly thing to say.
And the more I had gotten to know her, the more I liked her. She was funny, sarcastic, kind, clever, and a bit edgy. Not to mention beautiful. Obviously. To me at least. But it was the way I felt around her that I couldn’t quantify with words. She just made me...feel.
And it did scare me. She was married. There was obviously no guarantee anything would happen. We had pushed a few boundaries, but it wasn’t like I could take her out on dates and plan a future with her. Not yet at least. She had to decide to leave him first. And what if she didn’t? What if she just wanted to connect with someone since she hated her husband, but really had no intention of leaving him. What if I continued this, this...whatever it was with her and eventually she moved on to someone else who could do the same for her. What if leaving Marco wasn’t an option and I was wasting my time thinking it might be, or should be? I had no idea how strong the draw of her current lifestyle really was. And there was no way in hell she would be living a lifestyle even close to that with me.
And her kids. What about them? I hadn’t even met them yet. Knowing my luck, they were probably little terrors, mini-Marcos raising hell at every turn.
Fuck. This is why I liked working. It was never a good idea to be trapped in my thoughts for too long. I needed to get out of the house. And I knew where I needed to go.
Car dealerships always creeped me out a little bit. Acres of cars just sitting there waiting for you to choose them while the salespeople circled around like vultures hoping to spot carrion. As soon as I got out of the Roller Skate, it was like a mad dash to see which vulture could get to me first. A few of them stayed back, no doubt because of the quality of my car. Hopefully for the last time.