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“Hey, shush. Everything’s going to be okay, my little Harmonica,” she coos into my hair.
I cry—a lot—and by the time I’m finished, we’re sitting on the floor, my head on her legs as she leans against the sofa. I may be twenty-nine-years-old, but right now I feel like I did when I was a small child.
She strokes my hair softly, not pushing for answers as she waits for me to talk.
I s
niff and voice my thoughts, my voice sounding croaky. “My marriage is over.”
With those four simple words, the fog from my head lifts and a wave of sadness comes crashing down on me again, bringing with it another round of tears. Still, she doesn’t push me, letting me tell her in my own time.
The last of my tears dry up and I push off her lap, leaning against the sofa beside her and pulling at a piece of invisible thread on my jeans, not knowing what to say to her. She sighs, standing and pulling me up onto my feet by my hands, leading me into her brightly colored kitchen as I think about what to start with.
I watch as she flits from one end to the other, busying herself making the chamomile tea she always says makes you feel better. As she finishes up, I lean against the doorframe and let my eyes wander over the cerulean cupboards, feeling a painful pang as I remember watching my dad build them when I was a little girl.
Sighing, I move into the room slowly and take a seat at the multicolored table, staring ahead at the colorful painting on the wall; it’s one I painted when I was a teenager. The colors swirl together conveying every angst-filled emotion I was feeling at the time. I was going to throw it away but dad fell in love with it and hung it pride of place in the most colorful room in the house; a place that he built with his own two hands.
I jump when Mom places the cup of tea in front of me and I smile at her appreciatively. “Do you ever wish that things were as hard as you thought they were when you were a teenager?”
She chuckles. “That would be the life.” Watching as I take a sip of tea, she puts her hand on mine. “What happened, hon?” I try to swallow past the lump in my throat and shake my head, looking down at the red cup in my hands. “Relationships are hard work, you have to wade through the bad times to get to the good.”
“But what if you’re drowning in the bad times? What if the good times are pretty much non-existent anymore?” It hurts saying it aloud to my mom, I haven’t ever told her anything, letting her think that I was completely happy. But I’ve realized that I’ve had rose-tinted glasses on for the whole relationship, only noticing Gerry’s careless comments in recent years. “Gerry cheated on me. And I know that it was more than once,” I announce.
I don’t know what I’m expecting from her, but instead of shouting and cursing him out with me, she sits in silence, contemplating what she’s going to say to me.
After a beat she says, “Life’s too short to not live a contented and fulfilled life.” She pauses before squeezing my hand. “But it’s also a long time to live without someone you equally respect and love by your side, to keep you afloat during the bad times. I can’t tell you what to do, but I hope you will do whatever feels right for you and not anyone else.”
“I’m more sad than angry that it’s ended up this way, I wasn’t ready for it to end so soon. I wanted to try and work things out, but that choice has been ripped away from me.” I nod my head like I’m affirming my decision. “I can’t ever go back to him now. This has cemented my decision that we aren’t right for each other anymore.”
I did love Gerry, especially in the beginning. He helped me get over my heartbreak and get through the rest of my college years, he kept me above water. There was a time when we could wade through the bad times together, but after the first few years after we moved away, I can’t remember one instance where that happened.
I glance over at Mom’s reassuring face, deciding to give her a small smile of my own to show her that I’m not completely falling apart.
She stands, motioning for me to join her. “If you’re happy with this decision, I will support you in any way that I can.”
I walk into her arms and rest my head on her shoulder. “All I need you to do is to keep being you, you always know what to say. Oh, and I need a lawyer, I can’t stand being married to him for one more second.”
She pulls back, flitting her eyes between mine before she lets go of me and opens a drawer, taking out her address book and tapping a number written on the page. “Call this firm in the morning, they helped me with your father’s assets when he passed.”
I sniffle. “Thanks, Mom. One more thing, you don’t happen to be wanting a roomie, do you?”
Her shoulders shake softly as she chuckles. “It just so happens that I was going to put an ad in the paper tomorrow, I better cancel it.”
I laugh but it doesn’t sound joyful, it’s weak and full of sadness. “I better go and get my things.”
She wipes a lone tear from my cheek while looking into my eyes. “I’m so proud of the woman that you’ve become, Harmony. You’re kind, warm-hearted, creative, and you see life through an optimist’s eyes. Don’t change that now, don’t let the world and Gerry’s indiscretions taint your colorful perspective on life. Cry and be angry at him, but now you’ve made your decision, you need to be ready for a new beginning. Don’t start it out by moping around.” She pauses, letting that sink in before she says, “Go and bring your things in and we’ll get you set up in your old room.”
I try to give her a small smile, it hurts to fake it but it seems to placate her because she nods and sends me on my way.
“Come on, Harmony. Don’t you think you should start looking for a real career instead of entertaining your hobby? You’re not getting any younger, y’know.”
He chuckles and I push my chair back from the table, keeping my hands connected with the wood.
“I have a real career, Gerry. What I do has no less merit than what you do.” I raise my brows, daring him to keep putting me down.
“Oh, don’t make this out to be tit for tat, Harmony. Finger painting is not the same as fine art.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
