A Curve in the Road(74)

That night, as I’m brushing my teeth before bed, in my mind I see Alan walking away from me in the hospital after Zack’s head injury from the skateboard accident, when we almost lost him. I remember how I stood there with concern, watching my husband take long strides down the corridor until he was gone from sight.

That was the worst of the times I felt Alan pull away from me emotionally. It was as if something snapped inside of him and he couldn’t bear the weight of what might have been if Zack hadn’t pulled through.

It was early July, the start of Zack’s summer vacation, just before ninth grade.

A thought comes to me—a sudden connection—and I stop brushing my teeth. Then I quickly spit out the toothpaste, rinse my mouth, and pad into my bedroom, where Winston is stretched out on the bed. I grab my laptop from the desk, carry it to the bed, and open my email.

I stare at the message Paula sent me the day before. Then I begin to type a new message.

Hi Paula,

Can you answer a question for me? When did you and Alan start seeing each other? Do you remember the exact date, specifically? I can’t tell you why it matters. It just does.

Abbie

I hit “Send” and sit back against the pillows, scratching behind Winston’s ears and wondering if she’ll reply anytime soon. My laptop chimes five minutes later.

Hi Abbie,

It was July 7, 2014. He came into the store on a Sunday, which just happened to be my birthday. There was a cake for me and he had some. I hope that helps.

Paula

I stare at the message. Nervous knots form in my belly, because there can be no mistaking the date. That was the first Sunday after Zack’s skateboard accident. He got out of the hospital on a Friday, and we went to my mother’s house for dinner on Sunday.

I remember how quiet and withdrawn Alan was that day. He went down to the basement to check Mom’s furnace filters and tidy up the storage room. I knew he was still shaken over Zack’s accident, so I simply gave him space and didn’t try to talk to him about what had happened. I left him alone to putter in the basement.

Obviously, I missed something. I didn’t realize how badly he needed me that day. It could all be traced back to the fact that he had grown up with a callous father who had burst into his bedroom on the day his mother died and announced her passing like a dinner call. And then he’d forbidden his son from expressing any grief over the loss of the most important person in his life.

There’d been no one to love Alan after that tragic day.

Until I came along.

I see now that Alan’s worst fear was the loss of us too. And something deep inside of him—something wounded and broken—needed to believe that there would still be love somewhere else in his life if the worst ever happened.

Not that that excuses what he did. It was still wrong. But at least now I understand a little more about why he was vulnerable to Paula’s attentions that day when he walked into the hardware store and ordered the furnace filter.

The following day, I text Zack at college and ask him to call me. I explain that there’s something important we need to discuss.

He lets me know he’ll call as soon as he’s finished classes.

I pass the hours by taking Winston for a walk and picking up a few groceries at the store. While I push the shopping cart, I practice what I plan to say to my son.

Briefly, I consider making up some silly story about going on a trip down south for spring break or something. Anything other than what I know I must tell him. I flip-flop like a flounder on a wharf, tempted to throw myself back into the sea of hidden truths where I’ve been living for the past year. But I know I can’t do that. Everything is different now. Yesterday, I learned something that will affect the rest of Zack’s life, so I can’t pretend that it’s in his best interest to keep him in the dark any longer. I also know that I can’t protect him from pain. Pain is part of life, and we have to deal with it when it comes.

But sometimes, a flicker of light can emerge from the darkest, most unexpected tragedies.

My cell phone rings just before dinner. My mother gives me a sympathetic look because she knows what I’m about to tell my son, and she understands how difficult it is for me to destroy the memory of his perfect, fairy-tale life.

But it wasn’t perfect. Life never is. Alan and I did our best, but occasionally we messed up. We made mistakes. It’s time I have enough faith in my son to admit that to him.

I get up from the table to answer the phone. Winston follows me upstairs into my bedroom, where I close the door. He jumps up on the bed and lies down next to me. As he watches me with those glistening brown eyes, I know there can be no more lies.

I take a deep breath and tell Zack everything—that his father was unfaithful to me in the last few years of our marriage and that he was having an affair with a woman from Lunenburg. I reveal how I found out—that Paula called Alan’s cell phone in the hospital, and I eventually connected the dots.

Zack remains silent, and my heart pounds with dread.

When he finally speaks, there’s a mixture of anger and hurt in his voice. “Mom. How could you have kept this from me?”

My insides tremble and quake, and part of me regrets that I didn’t tell him right away. Maybe I should have trusted that he was strong enough to handle it.

Another part of me knows that I wasn’t ready for that until now. I needed to come to terms with everything myself. The situation needed time to unfold, and I needed to understand that maybe sometimes we go through life seeing only what we want to see. With Alan, I saw a perfect husband, a gifted doctor, and a loving father. That’s what Zack saw too. But there was so much more to Alan than that. Deep down he was still that young, wounded boy who had lost his mother and all the love she once gave. He harbored deep, painful fears. He was terribly afraid of losing the people he loved most. He wasn’t perfect.