Blind Kiss(71)

Gavin had built a successful mechanic’s garage from the ground up. Other than his work, he lived like a typical bachelor, traveling with friends all over Europe, taking off to Hollywood to see his mom anytime he felt like it. I called it running. He called it freedom. Either way, it was something I envied fervently. He went to concerts constantly, always inviting me, though he knew I could rarely go. He did what he wanted.

But every now and then, he’d call and say, “Penny, I’m lost. I want what Lance has. I’m tired of my life.”

I had tried to convince him that there was nothing to envy about Lance’s life. “You want to work sixty hours a week selling pharmaceuticals?”

Gavin would always just reply, “You know what I mean.”

Now Lance and I were in counseling.


ON MY WAY to the counselor’s office, I knew I had to make a decision. In the month we had spent apart, I danced a lot in my home studio and dove into Milo’s activities, but mostly I stayed at home, soul searching. Gavin was swept up in Briel, not atypical for him in the beginning of a relationship. I knew it would end in a month or two when she went back to France, but at least he was giving me the space I needed.

I thought a lot about Lance and our marriage. He had been trying so hard in therapy to prove to me that we could work it out. And I believed him.

In the parking lot after last week’s counseling session, I had let Lance kiss me good-bye. It was a passionate kiss. I missed his hands on me, the way he always smelled like the cologne he had worn for years, which had became a source of comfort to me, of marital ease and unselfconsciousness. He had put his strong arms on my hips and in return I had gripped his forearms. He had been wearing a gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His skin was warm. When I had left the parking lot last week, after our intimate moment, I was sure I knew the decision I was going to make.

Pulling out of my driveway, I waved to Milo, who was playing Ping-Pong in the garage with his friend Kale. Heading down the street, I noticed a For Rent sign in Frank’s yard. Gavin had told me he was going to wait awhile, fix up the house, and then sell it. I wondered why he wanted to rent it out now.

A week later in the parking lot of the counselor’s office, I texted Gavin.


Me: I thought you were selling your dad’s house? Why is there a For Rent sign?


Gavin: Change of plans. I’ll explain everything to you later. I gotta go.

That was abrupt.

Once inside Dr. Lake’s office, I gave Lance a quick peck on the cheek and sat down next to him.

“Did you meet with her before I got here?” I said to him.

“We had a short talk. I think this session is actually unnecessary, right, Dr. Lake?”

“I do. Penny, if you’re up for it, Lance would like to have a private moment with you to discuss things.”

My brain was a little fried. I hadn’t expected to be alone with him. I turned toward Lance. “What do you mean?”

“Just what Dr. Lake said. I’d like to talk to you in private. Are you okay with that?”

“I’m okay talking in private,” I said. He was trying to give me the space I needed to feel comfortable. “Where do you want to go?”

He stood up. “Why don’t you follow me to 415?”

It was one of our favorite date-night spots. “Sure . . .”

I looked at Dr. Lake curiously but she simply said, “Good luck, you two.”


ON THE WAY to the restaurant, I thought about how I was going to tell Lance I wanted to try again, but that I wanted a lot to change. I needed a lot to change in order to move forward with him. I just had to be up front and communicate.

Inside the dimly lit room, we took our seats at a small table for two. He reached for my hands naturally, and I let him take them.

“I love you, Penny.”

“I love you, too.”

“I did a lot of thinking while we were apart.” He studied me closely, and I sensed he was about to drop a bomb on me. The silence hung like a frozen bullet, staring me down.

“Did you meet someone?” I blurted out.

He jerked his head back. “Jesus, no. Let me finish. There are so many things I love about you.”

“Thank you,” I said, still stunned.

“But I bring none of them out in you anymore.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s true,” he said. His eyes welled up. “I realized that if Gavin didn’t exist, we would still be right here . . . talking about why our marriage isn’t working.”

“Why do you think it’s not working, Lance?”

“Because we’re different.” I was waiting for him to cut me down, but he didn’t. “I feel like I forced you into this marriage. Like you’ve changed because of me.”

“You didn’t. And I didn’t. I mean, yes, I’ve changed, but we both have.”

“See, even now you can’t stand up for yourself. That wasn’t the Penny I married. The Penny I married was spontaneous . . . an artist. I feel like I’ve robbed you of that.”

“I chose to be with you,” I said. “You know that, right?”

“Penny, I brought you here because I wanted to tell you that I’m filing for divorce.”

I held my hand to my head. I was certain I was having a stroke. Lance didn’t blink; he just looked at me with sympathy, but I could tell from his eyes that his mind was made up.