Ex Communication
This scene is from chapter four of, In Stitchness and in Health.
Megan leaves the crowded, stuffy pub in search of fresh air. Adam follows her and asks about her sudden plan to marry Eric the following week.
First we have the scene as it appears in the book, from Megan’s point of view, followed by the re-written scene from Adam’s point of view.
Megan’s point of view:
“Hey, Meg, are you OK?”
“Fine,” I assure Adam as he follows me outside. “I just need some fresh air. It’s warm in there, and I’m wearing this heavy… thing.” I gesture to my hand-knit, worsted-weight, cabled tunic and tights.
Adam and I met when I was eighteen and got married when I was twenty. I fell pregnant with Hannah a few months later. Over the years, we grew apart. I immersed myself in motherhood and the community, and Adam immersed himself in becoming a senior partner at a large law firm. Apathy crept into our relationship without us realizing until it was too late. Next thing we knew, the only common interest we had was Hannah.
After unsuccessful attempts to reconnect, we decided it would be best for our family to end our marriage. We still love each other, but not as husband and wife. We’ve worked hard to redefine our relationship and build a friendship. We’re not a couple anymore, but we’re Hannah’s parents, and we’ll always be family. After the split, Adam left the large law firm and opened a practice in Harmony Lake. He’s been the mayor for almost a year. We spend more time together in divorce than we did in marriage.
“Listen, if you’re feeling overwhelmed about the wedding, it’s understandable. I mean, it came out of nowhere. On Sunday, you told me you guys hadn’t even set a date, and now you’re getting married in a week?”
“It was a shock,” I agree. “But it feels right, and I’m happy, Adam. Really, really happy.”
“So is your fiancé,” Adam observes. “He’s had a big, goofy grin plastered on his face all night.”
We laugh.
Adam isn’t being nasty; he and Eric are friends. Close friends. They golf together, watch sports together, and work out together. Yes, it was weird at first. For me, anyway. But it works for our non-traditional family.
“But seriously, Meg, you deserve to be happy. Eric is a great guy, and if you’re happy, I’m happy for you. But no matter what, I’m here for you. Eric is my friend, but you’re my family. I’ll always have your back.”
His blue eyes are full of sincerity and a hint of nostalgia.
“Thank you,” I say, standing on my tippy toes to hug him. “Your support means a lot. This won’t change anything between us. We’ll always be close. You, Hannah, and I will always be Team Martel.
“Except you’ll be a Sloane,” he mutters, referring to Eric’s last name.
I pull away from our hug and lower myself to my natural height. Adam is tall, and I am short. He’s the same height as Eric. Hugging the men in my life requires a good deal of stretching on my part and stooping on theirs.
As soon as we pull apart, I miss his warmth, and the icy breeze coming off the lake chills me to the bone. I shiver and cross my arms in front of me, rubbing my shoulders.
“You know who might be happier about this wedding than you and Eric combined?” Adam asks, taking off his sports jacket and draping it over my shoulders.
“Connie?” I ask, gathering the jacket around me like a cocoon.
“Even happier than Connie.”
“Our daughter?”
“She might be the happiest maid of honour on earth.”
“It’s her first time in a wedding,” I remind him.
“She’s been texting me photos of dresses all day. Asking my opinion about the colour or the style. I know nothing about dresses!”
We discuss Hannah, her joy about being maid of honour, and our shopping trip to the city tomorrow. Adam offers to stop by Knitorious and help Marla. I thank him and assure him Eric is on Knitorious-duty tomorrow.
Though he denies it, I can tell Adam is getting cold without his jacket. I suggest we head back inside, slide his jacket off my shoulders, and return it to him.
Adam reaches for the pub door, but before he grabs it, the door opens. He catches the handle and holds it open while a woman I don’t recognize strides through. She’s a few years younger than me and has long, straight, shiny dark hair. She’s beautiful in a refined, classic way. Her designer coat, thick belt, and designer stiletto heels complete her polished look. Seeming not to notice us standing next to the door, she strides onto the sidewalk, then stops, and glances left and right. Adam and I watch her pivot left and sashay into the darkness, the clicking of her heels on the sidewalk growing fainter with each stride.
“Do you know her?” I ask.
“Never seen her before.”
Adam reaches for the door again, but the double doors swing open, and Seb Gillespie staggers onto the sidewalk. He’s well past the drunk threshold. He’s smashed. Plastered. Bombed. Whatever word applies to someone who could be on the verge of alcohol poisoning.
Seb staggers right, left, then right again. Confusion and intoxication cloud his face and probably his judgement. He slurs something, but I can’t understand what he’s saying.
“Rawsieeee?” he moans. “Rowwwwshh? Rowshie Pettle!”
“What’s he saying?” I ask.
“No idea.” Adam shakes his head. “I’m not fluent in drunk.”
“I think he’s looking for that woman,” I theorize. “He looks like he’s searching for someone.”
“He looks hammered,” Adam says.
From inside one of Seb’s pockets, his cell phone rings and vibrates.
Suddenly, Seb picks up speed and staggers right at us. We jump apart when he lunges himself between Adam and me like we aren’t here. Adam grabs Seb’s elbow, preventing him from stumbling off the curb and into the street. I hold the door while Adam commandeers Seb and steers him inside the pub. Seb’s phone stops ringing, then starts again.
“There you are!” says an exasperated Amber.
Amber helps Adam pour Seb into a booth. She slides in next to him, and he leans on her to prop himself up.
“You’ve had enough to drink. You’re cut off!” Amber tells her drunken boyfriend.
“Yes, he is,” Sheamus says, his Irish accent thick with authority. Sheamus looks at Adam and me. “We didn’t overserve him. The fella’s only had two drinks in my pub, I swear.” He gestures toward Seb, the empty pint glasses in his hand clanging against each other. “He must’ve started before he got here.” He looks at Amber again. “I’ll get yer lad some coffee.”
Sheamus turns and disappears into the crowd.
“I was only in the washroom for a minute,” Amber says, looking at me. “When I got back, he was gone. He’s the fastest drunk person I know.” She chuckles. “Sheamus is right. Seb only had a few drinks. He must’ve started before we got here. The wedding cancellation must have upset him more than I thought. This is his first big event since he joined the company. It’s the biggest event either of us has ever planned. I guess he drank to numb his feelings.” She tries to lean Seb against the back of the booth. “This is so embarrassing.”
Seb’s phone rings again.
“Someone’s trying hard to get in touch with him,” Adam says.
“I don’t think he’s fit to talk to anyone,” Amber responds.
“Why don’t I help you take him home,” I offer. “I’m sober. I’ll help you get him settled in the hotel room.”
“I’ll go with you,” Adam adds. “He’s heavier than he looks.”
“Thanks, but we’ll be fine,” Amber says. “I can take care of him. This isn’t my first time babysitting Seb after he drank too much. I’ve had nothing to drink, and I’m parked right outside. After he has some coffee, I’ll take him back to the hotel.”
“Are you sure?” Adam asks, unconvinced. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m positive.”
Amber smiles, and her body slumps under Seb’s weight when he falls against her.
“Let us know if you change your mind,” I say.
We say good night, and Adam and I wish Amber good luck. Seb’s cell phone rings again as I walk toward Eric at the bar.
Adam nudges me and jerks his head behind him, toward Seb and Amber.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Meg.”
Adam’s point of view:
“Hey, Meg, are you OK?”
“Fine,” she replies, surprised to find me behind her on the sidewalk outside the pub. “I just need some fresh air. It’s warm in there, and I’m wearing this heavy… thing.” She gestures to her hand-knit, cabled tunic and tights.
My ex-wife is just as beautiful today as the day we met when she was eighteen and I was twenty-one. I knew within twenty minutes of meeting her that Megan would be my wife. I was right. We got married less than two years later, and had Hannah a year after that.
I never imagined we would ever grow apart. Divorce was something that happened to other couples. I didn’t even realize we were in trouble until it was too late. I was so obsessed with my career and making senior partner at the firm, that I was oblivious to the cracks forming in our marriage.
Instead of working eighty hours a week to give my wife and daughter the best of everything, I should have worked normal hours and been the best husband and father I could. The husband and father they deserved.
Even after we separated, I didn’t believe it was over. At first, I thought Meg was going through a phase. Our almost-grown daughter was leaving for university and Meg was figuring out how to live a life that wasn’t Hannah-centric. I thought my wife just needed space and we would find our way back to each other.
I was wrong. Meg thrived. While I was focussed on my career, she had created a full, satisfying life for her and Hannah in Harmony Lake. She was happier without me.
Ironically, after we split, I left the large law firm in the city and opened a small practice in Harmony Lake. Then, I became mayor. Now, Megan and I see each other more often in an average week than we saw each other in a month during our marriage.
It stings to watch the only woman I’ve ever loved live a happy, fulfilling and fall in love with someone else.
She might not be my wife, but Megan is Hannah’s mother, and we’ll always be a family.
“Listen, if you’re feeling overwhelmed about the wedding, it’s understandable. I mean, it came out of nowhere. On Sunday, you told me you guys hadn’t even set a date, and now you’re getting married in a week?”
“It was a shock,” Meg agrees. “But it feels right, and I’m happy, Adam. Really, really happy.”
I know she is. It’s written all over her face. She glows with a happiness I hadn’t seen in the last five years of our marriage.
“So is your fiancé,” I say. “He’s had a big, goofy grin plastered on his face all night.”
We laugh.
Eric is a great guy. Heck, even I love him. He’s impossible not to like. We’re regular golf buddies, armchair sports commentators, and he’s even convinced me to spend some time at the gym. The three of us know it’s an unusual dynamic, but it works for our family so we don’t care what anyone else thinks.
“Meg, you deserve to be happy. Eric is a great guy, and if you’re happy, I’m happy for you. But no matter what, I’m here for you. Eric is my friend, but you’re my family and I’ll always have your back.”
Her moisture-filled eyes glint in the light of the overhead street lamp.
“Thank you,” she says, standing on her tippy toes to hug me. “Your support means a lot. This won’t change anything between us. We’ll always be close. You, Hannah, and I will always be Team Martel.
“Except you’ll be a Sloane,” I mumble into her hair, squeezing her tight.
She pulls away and returns to her natural, flat-footed height.
Megan shudders at the icy breeze blowing off the lake. She crosses her arms in front of her and rubs her shoulders.
“You know who might be happier about this wedding than you and Eric combined?” I ask, draping my blazer over her shoulders.
“Connie? she asks, gathering the jacket around her and tugging the lapels toward each other, trapping the warmth like a cocoon.
“Even happier than Connie.”
“Our daughter?”
“She might be the happiest maid of honour on earth.”
“It’s her first time as a bridesmaid,” I remind him.
“She’s been texting me photos of dresses all day. Asking my opinion about the colour or the style. I know nothing about dresses!”
We discuss Hannah, her joy about being maid of honour, and their shopping trip tomorrow.
I offer to help Marla at Knitorious so Meg won’t worry about the store while she’s in the city.
She thanks me and informs me that Eric has already offered to be on Knitorious-duty tomorrow.
Too little, too late again. Story of my life.
I try not to shiver when another blast of frigid lake air rushes through us.
Megan suggests we head back inside the pub. She slips off my blazer and hands it to me. I shrug it on, and her familiar scent drifts past my nose.
I inhale again, hoping to catch it. It’s gone.
As I reach for the handle, the pub door flies open. I catch the door, hold it open, and step aside.
A woman I don’t recognize strides through.
I let the door close after her with Meg and I still on the sidewalk.
She’s younger than me with long, straight, shiny dark hair. In her expensive, refined coat and designer shoes, she’s overdressed for our small tourist town.
Seemingly oblivious to our presence, the woman strides onto the sidewalk, then stops. She glances left and right.
Our heads follow her in unison as Meg and I watch the mystery woman pivot left and disappear into the darkness, the fading clickity-clack of her heels against the sidewalk disappearing after her.
“Do you know her?” Meg asks.
“Never seen her before.”
I reach for the door again, and it swings open again.
Seb Gillespie staggers out of the pub. Anyone could tell he’s well past the drunk threshold.
Seb staggers right, left, then right again. Confusion and intoxication cloud his face and probably his judgment. He slurs something unintelligible.
“Rawsieeee?” he groans. “Rowwwwshh? Rowshie Pettle!”
“What’s he saying?” Meg asks.
“No idea.” I shake my head. “I’m not fluent in drunk.”
“I bet he’s looking for that woman,” Meg hypothesizes. “It looks like he’s searching for someone.”
“It looks like he’s hammered,” Adam says.
From inside one of Seb’s pockets, his cell phone rings and vibrates.
Suddenly, Seb picks up speed and staggers toward us. We jump apart when he lunges himself between Meg and me like we’re invisible.
I grab Seb’s elbow before he stumbles into the street.
Meg holds the door while I commandeer Seb and steer him toward the pub.
Seb’s phone stops ringing, then starts again.
“There you are!” says an exasperated Amber.
Amber takes Seb from me and pours him into a booth. She slides in next to him, and he leans into her, propping himself up.
“You’ve had enough to drink,” Amber tells her drunken boyfriend. “You’re cut off!”
“Yes, he is,” Sheamus says, his Irish accent thick with authority. Sheamus looks at Adam and me. “We didn’t overserve him. The fella’s only had two drinks in my pub, I swear.” He gestures toward Seb, the empty pint glasses in his hand clanging against each other. “He must’ve started before he got here.” He looks at Amber again. “I’ll get yer lad some coffee.”
Sheamus turns away and disappears into the crowd.
“I was only in the washroom for a minute,” Amber says to Megan. “When I got back, he was gone. He’s the fastest drunk person I know.” She chuckles. “Sheamus is right. Seb only had a few drinks. He must’ve started before we got here. The wedding cancellation must have upset him more than I thought. This is his first big event since he joined the company. It’s the biggest event either of us has ever planned. I guess he drank to numb his feelings.” She tries to lean Seb against the back of the booth. “This is so embarrassing.”
Seb’s phone rings again.
“Someone’s trying to get in touch with him,” I say.
“I don’t think he’s fit to talk to anyone,” Amber responds.
“Why don’t I help you take him home,” Meg offers. “I’m sober. I’ll help you get him settled in the hotel room.”
“I’ll go with you,” I add. “He’s heavier than he looks.”
“Thanks, but we’ll be fine,” Amber says. “I can take care of him. This isn’t my first time babysitting Seb after he’s had too much to drink. I’ve had nothing to drink, and I’m parked right outside. After he has some coffee, I’ll take him back to the hotel.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, unconvinced that this is a good idea, and uncomfortable leaving Amber with sole responsibility for an unpredictable drunk. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m positive.”
Amber smiles, and her body slumps under Seb’s weight when he falls against her.
“Let us know if you change your mind,” Meg says.
We say good night, and Meg and I wish Amber good luck.
Seb’s cell phone rings again as we walk away.
I nudge Meg and jerk my head toward Seb and Amber’s booth.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Meg.”