Knowing Is Not Enough (5 page)

I decided to set aside my reservations and just ask him. I don’t know what I expected him to say or not say. My greatest fear was Sanford adding new information to
what Liz told me that would make my peaceful resolution with the divorce short lived. One of the many good things about Sanford is that he doesn’t lie. Or perhaps he does. Omission, in my book, is a lie, so I think this qualified as a lie. I’m confident this qualified as one, because it felt like a lie, and I didn’t like feeling like I’d been deceived. So, yeah . . . it’s time to talk.

I asked Sanford to come over to the house. Sanford loved soul food, so I cooked (okay, I didn’t cook, but I bought all his favorite foods): fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, candied yams, dressing, fried corn, collard greens, and chocolate cake, admittedly a lot of food for only two people. I approached this conversation being uncharacteristically deceptive. Since he didn’t just tell me, I thought maybe I would have to pull it out of him. I’m upset, but I don’t want to argue about this.

Sanford arrived still carrying that God-awful backpack he had since college. He worked as a policy analyst and did a considerable amount of research, so he had tons of books that he carried around with him all the time. I hugged him after he sat his backpack down on the floor, before heading into the kitchen. I grabbed the packs shoulder strap, barely lifting it onto a chair in the foyer.

From inside the kitchen, Sanford said, “Still can’t take stuff out of place huh?” I walked into the kitchen, and acknowledged his observation with a smile.

“No, that’s not it I just don’t want to kill myself tripping over all your books. Isn’t that bag about twenty years old? What do you have in there, anyway? That thing is heavy as hell.”

Sanford sniffed around the stove, systematically picked
up pot tops looking to see what simmered inside. He ignored my question. “So what’s up, Alex? Why are you cooking dinner for me? You haven’t done this since—” Sanford stopped mid-sentence, and looked up at me.

I took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll say it for you . . . since Jake left. But, I’m not actually cooking I’m warming. I decided it’s time to get some normalcy back in my life.” I started setting the dinner table. I wanted to keep the conversation moving. In hindsight I shouldn’t have cared. Jake and I were already divorced, but this wasn’t about Jake as much as it’s about Sanford and my friendship.

“What you got to drink? I’m thirsty.”

“I’ve got some wine if you want some. Just grab a glass from the cabinet.”

“So cooking—I mean warming for me is helping you?” Sanford looked amused by this. Sanford reached for a glass, his gesture flashed me back to the last time we were all together in the kitchen, Jake and I, during happier times. I stood there, frozen in a daze before I said for him to get any glass, and he got an actual wine glass. I don’t know why I thought he would get a water goblet. Not Sanford, he got a wine glass.

I pulled myself back to the conversation. “Well, to be honest, when Jake first left, continuing to
breathe
meant moving on.”

“Breathing, Alex? Isn’t that a little dramatic for you?”

“Yes, I’ll admit to having a cold hearted snake phase. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t hurting—and yes, breathing, wanting to re-emerge from it all took some effort.”

Sanford shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Sound like what?” I risked glancing his way he’d
opened the refrigerator to look for a white wine.

“You know, like you let him break you down or something.”

“Okay, let’s not forget, he used to be my husband. I did love the man.”

All I needed to do was put the food on the table and we were ready to get down and eat. Sanford found an unopened bottle of wine, grabbed a corkscrew from a kitchen drawer, and popped the cork. I set the food on the table, retrieved a couple of plates from the kitchen cabinet and utensils while he poured the wine.

“I know. I just never heard you talk like that before. I thought you wanted the divorce.”

I completed the table set up. Sanford joined me, pulling out my chair before his own and we both sat down. “Well, I did. But I’m not going to act as if I wanted it like that. I wanted it because I felt he left me no choice. I mean, he was the one who continued dating after we got married, not me.”

He smiled, “Well, I guess you got a point there.”

We put food on our plates in silence. “So, Sanford—what happened to you at the courthouse?”

He took a first bite of corn and chewed it before answering. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to be at the courthouse was I?”

“No, but I thought we were going to talk.”

“I’m sorry, I got caught up and couldn’t call, but you know how it is at work.”

Not really
, I thought. “Liz said she saw you at dinner one night.”

“She did?”

“Yup, sure did.” I sipped my wine. “So who did you go out with?”

He put down his fork. “Look, no offense, but this is new. I need to keep this one to myself for a minute.”

“Okay, that’s cool. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sanford, enough said. So other than this mystery person did anything else interesting happen that night?”

We were both talking around our food. Sanford’s plate was piled high. He still had issues with his eating. Tonight we weren’t counting calories.

“No, just the same old, same old. Why?”

“Well, I heard Jake ate there that night.”

Sanford looked down at his plate. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Oh, wow. Was he alone?”

“Actually, I thought you could tell me, since you were there, too.” I felt my heart beat faster.

Sanford stopped eating, put his fork down, and raised his head. “Don’t do this, Alex, what did you ask me over here for? Why you playing games all of a sudden? If you want to know something ask. If you got something to say spit it out.”

I don’t know if it’s what he said or his tone but I got upset, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you saw Jake with that woman? You knew I invested more time trying to work it out with him. I blamed myself! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, what kind of friend does that make you?”

“Your marriage hit the skids long before I saw him at dinner. You’re pissed off at yourself, not me.” The lack of empathy in his words brought on the water works. Sanford
a little rattled, but true to form, not by much.

I grabbed a napkin from the table, still crying, I wiped my nose. I raised my voice. “You’re missing the point. I’m having a hard time understanding how you could know everything I’m dealing with, to feel someone slipping away from you and not know why, and you see him with another woman and don’t tell me. That’s more months of time and energy I would’ve spent getting my shit in order. But thanks to you, I spend it kissing his ass!”

Sanford pushed his chair away from the table. He’d had enough. He walked toward the foyer to retrieve his book bag. I rose from the table, and followed behind him. Sanford arrived at the door, picked up his backpack, and then swiveled around to face me. He searched my eyes for forgiveness, then extended his hand and wiped away a tear move slowly down my face. With a note of concern in his voice, he said, “I’m sorry I hurt you Alex, but you have to realize you’re not the only person who’s got things going on.”

I stood there, mounted in place, staring back at him baffled as to what to think, say or do. Then it finally occurred to me—Sanford choosing not tell me wasn’t as simple or insensitive as I originally assumed it or him to be.

Sanford opened the front door, and walked out.

It’d been nearly a year since my divorce. I hadn’t spoken to Jake or Sanford. Neither of our paths ever crossed, for which I remained thankful. Early Wednesday morning and after a considerable amount of time soul searching, I longed to jump back into the social life I reveled in, before Jake and the divorce. Presuming it still endured without me. A few trepidations swirled in my head about calling my sister and Tobey, considering my unexplained self-imposed exile from all socialization. I hoped, in spite of my lack of candidness, reasoning or warning they would ultimately understand why I needed to take a step back. Maybe—just maybe, Linda and Tobey would be willing to forgive and forget and agree to have dinner with me this Friday.

I called out to Karen seated in the front office. “Can you get Linda on the phone for me?”

A few moments later Karen said, “Linda is on line one for you.”

“Thank you, Karen.”

I picked up the phone, “Hey, Linda.”

There’s a trace of laughter in her voice. “Boy, this is a surprise. You’re not dying, are you?”

“Ha, ha,” I said. “Very funny, and no, I’m not dying, at least not yet. I do want to get out this Friday. You game?”

“Oh good, we’re done with the mourning period over Jake.”

I relaxed back in my chair, “Yeah, I think I’ve turned a corner. I just want to get something to eat and listen to some good music. I need to do something other than working every day.”

“Okay, I hear you. Who did you invite? Is Sanford coming?”

“Sanford? No, just you . . . so far and Tobey.”

A brief pause, “Is that because he wasn’t invited?”

I shook my head, then it dawned on me
she couldn’t see me through the phone
. “No, we’re still not talking, and I don’t see that changing, at least not by Friday.”

A clear noticeable irritation in Linda’s voice. “Okay, so you know this has been going on long enough, right?”

“Yes Linda, of course I know it has.”

“Well?”

I said, “Well what?”

“Alex?”

“Linda? Can we just focus on Friday?”

Linda, silent, discharged an exasperated groan through the receiver evidencing her struggle to pursue the subject or let it go. Ultimately she regained her calm resolve. “Yeah, count me in.”

I felt relieved she conceded and moved off the subject
of Sanford. “Okay, good. You think Tobey will come?”

“I don’t know. When’s the last time you talked to her?”

I evaded her question. “Ah, it’s been a while.”

“Um—how much of a while, Alex?”

“A long while.” I detected by the tone of Linda’s questions this conversation wasn’t going to be quick. In hindsight unrealistic on my part to expect it would be. I put the phone down and placed the call on speaker. “And now I know why I haven’t called.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to have this conversation. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“There may have been a time when you were the victim in your life, but that phase passed a
long
time ago. Why haven’t we heard from you?”

“Haven’t you ever needed to take a step back and reevaluate your life?”

“No—not really. What needs reevaluating?”

“Linda, not your life, my life.”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t get it, I do. You needed space to get your head together, but what you did was something different. We haven’t heard from you. You haven’t talked to mama and daddy lately either. Then—after months of silence, you call out of the blue.” Linda paused, “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not right is it. After months of silence,
Karen
calls out of the blue.”

I said, “Okay, I deserved that. This idea may have been a mistake.”

Linda’s laughter came through the phone. “No, no, no, this wasn’t a mistake. Why would you think that?

“Besides the obvious?”

“I’m sure we would all love to tell you how we felt about your little disappearing act face-to-face.”

Laugher oozed through my weighted sigh. “Okay, well, you’re lucky—I want this drink really bad, or I’d retreat back into my hole.”

Good news for Linda. “Very good, little girl. So does this mean you’re willing to invite Sanford and put
that
behind you too?”

“One firing squad at a time, Linda, I’m not ready to go that far . . . and don’t you think about inviting him either.”

“Okay, okay, no Sanford.”

“You know what? To be honest with you, at first I thought I wasn’t talking to Sanford, but I think he’s not talking to me.”

“Oh, that’s funny.”

“I know, right?”

She laughed. “So where do you want to go?”

“Let’s go to The Boulevard.”

“Okay,” she said, “But you have to call Tobey.”

“Not a problem, I’ll call her,” I said.

“—I mean
you
have to call her, as in not having Karen call her, like you did with me.”

“You act like—”

“Like what?”

“Never mind,” I said quickly. “I promise. I will call her myself as soon as we hang up.”

Linda’s laughter filled the room. “Okay, well, I’m hanging up now.”

“I’ll call you Thursday to let you know what time.”

“Okay, talk to you then.”

I pushed the end-call button on my phone then I
contemplated some, not all, of what Linda said concerning me dropping out of sight and Sanford. She’s probably right—no, undoubtedly right. I needed to call Sanford, and at a minimum break the silence.

“Hey, Karen, has my last appointment arrived yet?”

Karen yelled from the other room. “Not yet. Do you need something?”

“No, I’m going to call Tobey to see if she wanted to go out this Friday.” An idea occurred to me. “Hey, Karen, speaking of which, do you want to hang with us Friday? You think Keith and the kids can go it alone for a few hours?”