Driving in Reverse

Driving in Reverse

At least I was safe and warm, I thought as the smelly heat began to pump through the rooms. As I threw a few logs in the fireplace, I felt as if Drew or one of the kids had been here recently and silently thanked them for letting me light a fire.

It was so like my firstborn Andy to chose February for his wedding, although my daughter Zoe hinted there was more to the the story than I knew. That maybe the bride and groom were expecting a little visitor. Andy’s love for Jen lit him up like a Christmas tree and, as a mother, I felt confident the marriage would fare well, unlike my own. 

Seated in the musty couch, I pulled out my i phone and made a note to get new windshield wipers. The last few miles of driving here were treacherous….the temperature dropping, the ice hardening, and the windshield caking with new snow and sleet. 

Jen’s family was expecting me, but there was no way I could have driven the last hour to get to St. Cloud for the festivities. Wanting to postpone the contact with Jen’s mother, I walked around the tiny rooms looking at old photos of us when we were a family

A picture of Drew teaching Andy and Zoe how to sail made my heart lurch in a way that I couldn’t control. My husband was a handsome young man and a good father.

He’s not dead, I said to myself wondering how attractive his plus one would be at our son’s wedding. 

Did he know how much his moving on still hurt me. Did he care?

I started to regret coming here, the little cabin that Zoe fought so hard for us to keep as the last shred of the Carsons being a family.

Drew and I were so depleted with the house sale, and my lashing out at him for the bartender he replaced me with that we agreed we would keep the cabin, and notify the estranged spouse of its potential use.  

I cringed that Andy and Zoe probably heard some of my rantings

“Are you such a pathetic Cliché, Drew, that you run off with a bartender named Crystal?

Is she old enough to be served, herself?” 

So here I was, alone in the Carson family cabin a few days before my son’s wedding. 

It was time to contact Jen and her family that I wouldn’t be lodging with them tonight. I wouldn’t bother Jen or Andy during this precious time between them. Jen was in constant contact with her family, and I wanted to practice being a bearable mother-in-law, imposing as little pressure on the couple as possible. 

Fighting with myself about uncorking the gift wine for my hosts, I heard a muffled noise at the door and ducked behind the couch.

Please don’t hurt me, I said quietly to the intruder, picturing the mess I would make of Andy’s wedding. 

I felt him before I actually saw him. Drew had used his key to enter the Carson family cabin.

“I’m so glad it’s you!” I said running over to greet him.

“Kathy, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in years,” he said, stomping his boots on the mat inside the door. 

“I couldn’t make it all the way to St. Cloud, so I pulled in here,” he said quietly.

“Me, too,” was all I could think to say.

Kicking myself for the shyness Drew brought out in me, I opened the refrigerator to show him what was available to us with decent expiration dates. With my back to him, I said, “Is your date meeting you in St. Cloud?”

“Kathy,” he said wistfully, “I actually miss the days when you used to ferret out information from the kids. I’ve been single for a long time now. I had a reservation at that hotel on Park Ave. South. I guess I’d better get in touch with them.” 

I checked that the heat was flowing in both bedrooms, thankful that the cabin had a spare, and distracted myself from Drew’s presence by checking the linens and pillows for our stay in the cabin. 

As much as I loved Jen, I never truly warmed up to her mother, and felt I could clean the entire cabin before I got out my phone to call her. I heard Drew on the phone with the hotel, and went into the living room, grabbed my phone, and placed a call to Jen’s mom. 

It went well making me feel doubly guilty for wanting a swig of the wine I’d hoped to give her. 

We both settled into the couch and Drew grabbed the remote control to turn on the TV.

“Some things never change,” I said gently.

“It always did bother you, my need for the TV, didn’t it?”

“I adjusted,” I said flatly.

“Does this place have a cork screw?” I asked, before getting up from the couch.

Drew went into the kitchen and opened the messy silverware drawer. 

He swung one of those cork screws with wings and said, “Now I need something to open.” 

“It’s for Jen’s mom,” I said handing him the bottle.

“Not a huge fan of hers,” he said.

“Me neither, but I love Jen, and more importantly, Andy does.”

“Did Zoe drop any hints to you, Kathy?”

“She did.”

“That would make us grandparents,” he said, with his hundred watt smile.

“Would hurt you in the dating scene,” I said.

‘I’m done with that, Kathy….I miss you.”

“Why, Drew? Why did you throw us away?”

“I don’t want to blame you, but you were so taken up with the kids’ sports and grades and college questionnaires, I felt useless around the house.” 

I didn’t immediately respond to him with one of my nasty retorts.

There was no need, as he took my hand and said,

“Typical of me to shift blame to you. I screwed up big time. I hurt you and the kids, and I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Don’t be a martyr, Drew. The girl was hot and I wasn’t.”

“Don’t ever say that about yourself, Kathy,’ he said causing me to look away.

“I was a little overboard about the kids, “ I said, surprising myself that I admitted it to Drew. It was one thing for my therapist to pry this out of me in the brutal aftermath of the divorce. It was another to say it to the perp. 

“Zoe blamed me,” I said, daring him to refute it.

“Andy hated me for years,’ he said exhaling slowly. “If it weren’t for Jen, I wouldn’t be invited to this wedding,” he said. We both knew that to be true. That this wonderful young woman our Andy had found was a treasure through and through. That we were sitting together sipping wine on the cusp of a union of two people who brought out the best in the other.

“There are few things better than a happy kid,” I said to him warmly. I didn’t know if it was the wine or the work of time and healing, but I felt no ill will to Drew.

We shared work stories, and he asked me to do an imitation of his old boss, which used to crack us up. I could mimic his Austrian accent and his endearing idiosyncrasies. I filled him in on the major happenings in my life since the split and he did the same.

“Are the Vikings ever going to make it?” I said rekindling our torturous love of our home team. By then his arm was around me, and I didn’t resist. I loved him as much as the day I married him…maybe more, and the natural progression of our shared spark led us into the main bedroom.

“Zoe will kill us,” I said.

“Zoe doesn’t have to know,” he answered.

“Drew, when are you going to accept our Zoe knows everything?”