Heather McCondichie

Dr. Margaret Mitchell

ENGL 3200-1HW

17 November 2008

How to Spread Your Wings

            This year will be different; I’m sure of it. I’ve finally resolved to make sure that the change that I want to see in myself happens. I know that whole cliché, be the change you want to see, is kind of silly, but that is how I feel right now. My husband left six months ago—right after our five year wedding anniversary—and now he is re-married, but you already knew that. The divorce was quick and clean. We didn’t have anything to fight over: no kids, he let me have the house, and he didn’t really care if I kept the dog. I’ve at least been able to tell you that. He just packed up his things and left one day. I’ve never really gotten the answers that I wanted, but I guess that is just how life goes sometimes. One day when he got home from work he looked at me and said “I love you Leila but I’m just not in love with you.” Honestly, what kind of excuse is that? Anyway, I’ve decided that maybe this is exactly what I needed to jump start my new life. Maybe instead of writing about strong women and interviewing strong women I can become one.

            Everyday was the same thing. I would get up, take the dog out for a quick walk around the yard, and put on coffee for him before I got in the shower. Every morning the same thing for two years, two years I gave to him only to get nothing in return. Only to be told, “I’m not in love with you.” I tell you all of this because you sit back in your black leather chair with your paper and pen expecting me to say something. Expecting me to give you something for you to write down and take notes on to put in my file, not to mention that at my mothers and friends urging I finally decided that maybe I do need a little help to over this. I have memorized your office by heart, and only in two visits. I guess that is the power of being a journalist, and an excellent observer. The walls are this mint color green. It reminds of Ben and Jerry’s mint chocolate chip ice cream, without the chips; on the wall above your desk is your certificate stating that you earned a degree to practice psychology. The other walls are filled with these black and white images of nature, well they are sort of black and white sort of washed in this brownish color. I wonder if these are supposed to have any affect on the patients. Your desk is cluttered with paperwork, but a picture of your goofy looking husband with your baby girl. She is pretty cute considering. I like your big brown leather chair, in fact, I wonder if the magazine would splurge and get me on for my office. The matching leather couch is remarkably uncomfortable considering I’m supposed to come in here and spill my deepest darkest secrets.

Anyway, now that the divorce is final I have plenty to say. It is all real. This is all happening and there is nothing that I can do about it. I go over and over our marriage in my head and wonder what I could have done wrong. You ask me why I think I did something wrong. I’m not really sure how to answer that except to look at you and say, “Why else would he leave if I didn’t do anything wrong?” You ask what it was like at the beginning and at first I try not to think about it. I would rather remember all the times that he was a prick rather to thing about the good times, but you are the one with the PhD, and I am the one answering the questions. I contemplate lying down on your hard and unappealing leather sofa that I’m sure you spent a pretty penny on, but decide to just lean back instead and think about our wedding day.

             It was picture perfect. Not a cloud in the sky; in fact, it was a beautiful crystal blue. I couldn’t have asked for more beautiful weather; which was great because we were having an outdoor wedding. It was April and it was just beginning to get warm and the flowers were beginning to bloom; my gosh it was gorgeous.  The reception was beautiful the lilies I ordered had arrived fresh that day and the smell was intoxicating. Ethan and I danced out on the floor, our first dance as husband and wife, while Nora Jones—“Come Away With Me” played in the background. The world melted away and it was just me and Ethan; exactly the way every young girl dreams it should be.

“I love you Mrs. Kelly” Ethan whispered in my ear.

            “I love you Mr. Kelly” I whispered back.

I would like to pretend that I don’t remember all of the details, but the truth is I watched the video again just the other night. Some nights when I’m lonely and wish Ethan was lying in our king size bed beside me I get up and turn on the wedding video and fall asleep on the couch covered in a tiny little blanket with a glass of wine.

Merlots are my favorite. I like some white wines, but usually I prefer Merlot. Actually a good White Zinfandel can also be great. That reminds me of another one of those stupid times that Ethan and I were together and everything was perfect. It was my birthday and I had to work. That was nothing new, it seemed like I was always working there at the beginning, but we both were. Ethan was just as busy as I was. Anyway, when I got home that night he had packed my bag and surprised me with a trip down to Savannah for the weekend.

“Leila, you have to hurry or we are going to miss the ghost tour.”

“I know, I know, babe. I just want to go in here real quick. It’s a store of nothing but wine

 and you get to taste 5 wines for 5 dollars, and you get a free wine glass. We’ve got like

twenty minutes. Please?”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just make it quick”

We walked away with three different bottles of muscadine wine that night. In fact, I still have one bottle on the kitchen counter. I haven’t been able to bring myself to open that bottle yet. But I’m getting pretty close. Good wine and good friends; that is about all that has helped me through this. Sonya and Alexis have been the best. We’ve been friends since high school, and in that sixteen years little has come between us. I cannot even begin to recall how many nights they have sat on my living room floor with me drinking wine and laughing, but mostly they reassured me while I cried. I would like to pretend that I’m as strong as the women that I interview and write about, but the truth is I’m not. Most of the women that I write about would never cry if their husbands left; most of them would probably just call a good divorce lawyer and move on. Gosh, I wish I was that strong.

You look at me and tell me that’s all the time we have for today, but you are so pleased with the progress we have made today.

As I drive home, I take a look out the window and notice the leaves. I would absolutely love to spend autumn up in New England somewhere. I think New England would be gorgeous this time of year. The trees seem to be in that funny transition stage; brown, dead, and curled up leaves hanging off some branches. The other side tells a different story. A bright fiery red, it looks as if rubies hang from the branches. Still other branches are totally bare and naked; open and exposed with no where to hide.

 I know that at least my dog will be waiting for me. That is the hardest part of adjusting to life as a “single gal.” I haven’t been on my own in the last twelve years, in fact, I’ve been with Ethan since I was 18. I pull up in the driveway, I should sell this house. It’s such a big house for a single person. Well I mean, not really, well maybe. I converted Ethan’s old office into a workout and yoga room. It’s not huge by any means. It is just a starter home, but maybe a little big for me and Buffy. Buffy greets me at the door with her cute little waging tail, I love chocolate labs. I always wanted one when I was little, but my mom never let me have a dog. I drop my keys on the little end table in the foyer and flip on the light switch. I need to paint. Everything in this house reminds me of Ethan. I think the smell of his cologne is embedded in the walls. Tomorrow I will call and get a painter out here. Maybe I will paint the whole house a nice beige. Ethan helped picked these stupid colors. I wonder if he and his stupid blonde bimbo, Sheridan, picked out the colors for their new house together. Gosh, Sheridan is a stupid name for a person. It is supposed to be a hotel, not a dumb blonde. You know it’s funny to me how even as a blonde I use that an insult to other blondes, ha. Sometimes I wonder if he really truly never saw her before we separated. I think he had to have had some idea that he wanted to be with her in his mind if he just up and left me for her. Whatever.

Once again, I pay a hundred and sixty dollars for digital cable, internet, and phone and there is not a thing to watch. I find that fascinating; over six hundred channels and I cannot find a damn thing to watch. It’s just for noise really. The hardest part of Ethan leaving has been the silence. Well, that and making dinner for one. I have this strange fascination with the Food Network, and always ended up cooking for an army. I love to cook. It’s depresses me to pull another Lean Cuisine out of the freezer and pop it into the microwave. I still remember the first night I cooked for Ethan.

Cough, cough, cough, “Leila, baby is there something in the oven? The entire kitchen is blanketed with smoke.”

“BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP”

“Shit.” I ran out from the bedroom to see what the annoying noise was. I still had curlers in and only half of my make-up finished. I tripped over my sweatpants as I ran to the kitchen. I really shouldn’t say they were my sweatpants, because I stole them from Ethan. I still have them; the sweat pants and the sweatshirt of his that are . . . or were my favorite. His smell is beginning to fade from them.

“I’m so sorry, I cannot believe I forgot to turn on the timer. I just, I don’t know what I thought. I wanted everything to be perfect for tonight. ”

Ethan pulls me in close and holds me. He could see the tears welling up in my eyes, and he hated to see me cry.

 “Leila, it’s no big deal. We can order out instead. How about Taco Bell?”

“I was trying to make something ten times better than Taco Bell,” I sobbed.

“I know baby. If you want I will eat it and love every minute of it. Smile as I choke down the burnt toast and everything”

“No,” I laughed. “It’s okay. Can we get Chinese instead?”

“Of course we can baby,” Ethan said laughing.

I miss cooking for someone other than myself. Sometimes I think about cooking for Buffy, but I’m pretty sure that would make me crazy. It might make for some good notes for my therapist though. At least I have my friends that let me feed them.

            Alexis has been unbelievable. She has been here whenever I need her; not to mention that she lets me crash on her couch whenever I need. I’m so glad that Jude, Alexis’ husband, is not jealous or protective. I think she has spent more nights here in the past eight months then with him. Sonya is amazing. She brings bottles of wine whenever I need them, and hasn’t told me to shut-up and stop crying yet. Not that Alexis has, but I just know that Sonya has little patience, and would be more likely out of the two. We have seen Alexis through a marriage, and two babies. Not to mention all the stress that two children in four years can cause and we have seen Sonya through some serious break-up and make-ups.   

As I sit on the couch eating another stupid Italian-type Lean Cuisine I realize that someone has been knocking on the door while I have been out in Leila Land. I pull back the blanket and shuffle to get the door.

“Jesus Leila, when did you decide that looking like a hag was acceptable,” Sony a barked at me.

“When did you decide that it was appropriate to look like your out ‘looking for a good time on the corner” I joked back.

“I was just kidding with you Leila . . . Do I really look like a hooker?”

“No. I’m just bitter. You know how it goes. What’s up?”

“Well I called Alexis and she is on her way. I have a great idea. I thought of it this morning while I was doing my aerobics class. I am so excited to tell you about it. I think it is going to be fantastic.”

“This isn’t a great idea like your last great idea is it?”

“Look, just because I may have inadvertently suggested that we sell ourselves to afford a trip to Vegas does not make me a totally horrible person. Besides we were all about six glasses of wine in to the night.”

“Oh Sonya, this is why I love you.”

“Well that and you know I’ll always bring a bottle of wine,” Sonya said holding up a bottle of White Zinfandel.

“Just in time for the party I see,” Alexis said as she approached the door.

Sonya went in to the kitchen and poured us all a glass and we sat around my coffee table to listen to the next crazy stunt that Sonya had planned.

“So I’ve been thinking. I was playing around on the internet at work today, and I came across this website about sky diving. We use to talk about it all the time in high school. I figure that since we are all kind of starting a new chapter in our lives, what better way to kick it off?”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Alexis and I said almost in unison.

“Of course we talked about in high school. We were like fourteen than. We are thirty now, and a lot has changed since than.” I said.

“Yeah, not to mention that I have two young children, and Jude would probably kill the idea before we even got it off the ground.”

“All I am saying is that I think you girls should think about it. Give us another few years and it will be creepy and mid-life crisis like of us to do something like sky diving.”

After they leave I cannot get the idea out of my idea, but life goes on and we all get immersed in work, the holidays, and family. I’ve conveniently missed my last few sessions due to work and the holidays, but here I am again sitting in the waiting room of your office. I’m surprised I was able to put it off for four months and here it is April. I can never pick a favorite season. I love autumn with all the colors and cold, but spring is beautiful too. I studied English in college; I know that spring is typically symbolic of re-birth. Not to mention that this month would mark Ethan and I’s six year wedding anniversary.  That night in early November when Sonya suggested sky-diving comes flooding back to me, and I think she is right. I think sky-diving could be a perfect way to start my new life.

You ask how the holidays were. I really want to say something sarcastic and ugly, like: Well how do you think they were? It was my first Christmas as a divorced woman and I had to sit through dinners and gift giving watching my siblings and their spouses. Oh and I almost forgot that I also had to play with nieces and nephews knowing that I wanted to be pregnant this time. I wanted to have children. But I decide against it. Instead I just tell you they were fine, a little tough, but fine. I’m so worried that you are going to ask where I have been and what I was doing for the past few months, but I manage to avoid it. Instead, you ask me how I have been doing, and if there are any new things I would like to talk about. I try not to listen to all the gossip, but I have heard that Sheridan is pregnant. Ethan sent me an e-mail around Christmas just wanting to let me know that he is here for me if I ever want to talk, and asking how Buffy was doing. There was also some other business about the house and taxes. I really didn’t want to respond, but I figured that would have been immature. The last thing I want is to do is let him know that I’m still hurting when he has moved on entirely.

You and I talk about the progress I have made, and how you can tell that I am better now than I was just a few months ago when I started coming. I know this is true. I still have a lot to work on, but I am getting better. I have stopped watching our wedding video and burned the remaining pieces of him. I heard it is some sort of Native American tradition. You burn the belongings of the dead in order to get rid of the ghost. Well Ethan didn’t die, but I figured that the ritual might work the same for me. You know; burn his belongings and get rid of his ghost in my life. I painted, and it didn’t all turn out beige. I picked a nice deep red for the kitchen, and a mint green—kind of like your office—for my bedroom. I took all the souvenirs of our marriage and put them away in a cedar chest in the basement. I’m not really bitter and didn’t want to burn the pictures and video, but I needed to take them out of sight.

 You can tell I am thinking about something else, and ask me what it is. I decide to bring up the sky-diving idea. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind for the past few months.  You tell me you think that could be an awesome idea and that it could really change things for me.

I’ve decided that I want to do it. I’m not really sure why, but I want to. I’ve also have a great idea that will make this jump all the more meaningful. At work later that day I did all of the research, and found a really good place. I have called Sonya and Alexis. We are having dinner at my place, and I am going to pitch them the new idea.

“What is so exciting that it had you stuttering,” Sonya asked.

“Seriously Leila, I haven’t seen you this excited in a long time.”

“So we are going sky diving.” I told them.

“WHAT?” They both gave me that look.

“Are you serious,” asked Sonya.

“As serious as a heart attack. I’ve been thinking about it since that time you suggested it and I think it is a great idea.”

“That’s so funny. I actually mentioned it to Jude and he was all for it,” said Alexis.

“Good because we are going on Saturday at 2:00”

“Okay, so what else. I know that is not what had you stuttering,” laughed Sonya.

“So here is the deal. I stopped by the store and picked up construction paper and markers. I heard this sort of thing on the radio the other day and I think this will be a great idea. Let’s write down everything we want to leave behind, and when we jump from the plane we will let it all go and land baggage free.”

“Wow Leila, that is deep,” joked Sonya.

“I like it!” said Alexis.

            “We will jump tandem, attached to a professional, so that we don’t have anything to worry about. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile now, and I’m so excited. I feel so energized just thinking about it.”

            That night each of us wrote down what we wanted to let go of, feelings, emotions, memories, anything. After a while we passed the papers around the table and each wrote down what we hoped the other could leave behind. Alexis had an addition where we each write down what we want our life to be and as best friends we would write down our hopes for each other, and those pieces of paper would be waiting on the ground for us. Any time we were feeling down or like we were losing ourselves we would take out this piece of paper and remember this day. We were literally jumping in to a new life.

            Jumping from an airplane at fourteen thousand feet is a feeling that words will never be able to describe. I was nervous and excited all at the same time. It is such an amazing and exhilarating feeling. I now know what it feels like to spread your wings and fly. I could feel the wind rushing by me; it was almost as if it was cleansing me of my past. I would land pure and new.

I had ripped my paper in to what looked like a million little pieces on the plane. I gripped my pieces of paper with all my might, until I finally whispered to myself “let go.” I closed my eyes and breathed in a deep sigh. A few moments later I opened my eyes, slowly opened up my palm. I smiled, let out a sigh of relief, and watched as all my grief, disappointment, and anxiety scattered through the air.