The View from Alameda Island - Robyn Carr Page 0,14
this—he’s twenty, a sophomore, has a steady relationship...”
“He’s trying to put his life together—the life he wants to have. He doesn’t want the one you and Pamela have. He wants to know how that works.” Tim sank to one knee and stabbed the bag of fertilizer, ripping it open, releasing the rank smell.
“You almost sound like you know anything at all about marriage, Father,” Beau said.
“I’m well trained,” Tim shot back.
“Michael just needs to pay attention to the women he lets into his life, make sure there aren’t any red flags. Maybe he should be in counseling. Just for his future.”
“Not a bad idea,” the priest agreed. “Have you told him the truth, Beau? That you stayed for them?”
“I might’ve suggested that,” Beau said, sticking a shovel in the fertilizer and scooping out a big load, sprinkling it down the rows. “I told the counselor I’m there in body only. I don’t want to fix it. I want to end it. Our mission in counseling should be to help Pamela let go. So she sobbed for an hour, babbling excuses and trying to explain her change of heart. And there was begging. My head hurt for two days. It’s torture.”
“Stop going,” Tim said. He sat back on his heels. “Seriously, stop going. You are the worst victim sometimes. You can’t do this for her. It was her choice, you gave her many last chances. She needs counseling but not marriage counseling.”
“Well damn,” Beau said. “What about the sanctity of marriage and all that?”
“Everything has an expiration date, my brother,” Tim replied. “Really, I’m in the wrong order. I should be with the Jesuits. I’m living in this century. I can’t tell perfectly miserable people trapped in abusive and unholy relationships to stick it out just because the church prefers it that way and we promised to turn the other cheek and all that. I wouldn’t have lasted a year with Pamela.”
Beau grinned. “If the diocese ever finds out about you, you’re history.”
“Eh,” he grunted. He stood and started spreading the fertilizer with his hoe. “How about Drew?”
“Drew’s good. Graduating in a couple of weeks. I’m having a party for him—mostly his friends and my family. Will you come?”
“Of course, as long as no one dies or gets married.”
“Pamela is trying to get involved, combining families, throw in an ex who may or may not show up. I’m expecting Drew will get a card with some money in it from his dad—anywhere from twenty to a hundred, depending on his guilt. It’s so awkward, my family and I’m sure her family know the circumstances but we have to make nice, act like we’re at least getting along, look as if we’re not getting divorced. I talked to Drew about all the subterfuge and he said, ‘No biggie. Let her do it. Then we’re done until I get married, which I promise you will be many years from now. Between now and then, I’m probably not going to make her unhappy.’ You gotta love that kid. Everything rolls off his back.”
“Or it seems to,” Tim said. “Keep an eye on that. Still waters...”
“We spend a lot of time together,” Beau said. “Just me and Drew these days. I think Drew has forgotten we have Michael’s graduation in a year...”
“Things will be better by then. What did you tell the counselor?”
“I told her we’ve been separated four times, Pamela has had other relationships during the separations and when we’re together she’s almost always unhappy and we argue too much. She pokes at me until I poke back, so sometimes I leave the house or go in the garage or detail the truck. I told her I don’t want to do that anymore. And of course she asked if we fixed our relationship so it wasn’t like that, was I in? And I said, I’m sorry, not anymore.” He dug out a shovelful of fertilizer. “I’d like to move on so my friends and family aren’t constantly forced to ask me where we are now.”
Tim stopped moving his hoe. “I’m sorry, Beau,” he said.
“Aw, not you, Tim. I don’t see enough of you for you to get on my nerves. That’s a problem, by the way. I’d like to see enough of you for you to get on my nerves.”
Tim grinned. “Basketball game Thursday night.”
“Can I bring a ringer?”
“Absolutely. I haven’t seen Drew in months.”
“I’m in pretty good shape,” Beau said. “You should pray.”