The House

She had been there for two hours when the doorbell rang. She peeked out a side window, and saw Jeff standing outside holding two cups from Starbucks.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asked, smiling at her. He looked relaxed and happy, as he handed her a Grande double cappuccino with nonfat foam, just the way she liked it.

“I'm in a time zone from another planet.” But from the look on her face, he could see that she had enjoyed it.

“Did you have fun?”

“I loved it… and the kitchen looks gorgeous,” she said as he followed her in and looked around. He'd had the cleaning crew in the day before so that when she saw it, it would look perfect. He ran a full-service office, he teased her.

They were sipping their coffee and chatting comfortably when he jokingly asked her if she'd seen Marie-Louise in Paris. Sarah looked confused by the question.

“No. Did she go back? Isn't she early for her summer trip?”

“Not this year. She left me.” He looked Sarah in the eye as he said it.

“She left you?” Sarah repeated, looking startled. “As in really left you, or as in for a few weeks to hang out in Paris?”

“She moved back. I'm buying out her half of the business. We're selling the house. I can't afford to buy that from her, too. I can use my half of the house money to buy her out of the business. Actually, I'm selling the house for her.” He looked calm as he said it. She could only imagine how he felt. Fourteen years out the window was hard to swallow. But he looked like he was doing okay. In some ways, it was a relief.

“I'm sorry,” Sarah said softly. “How did that happen?”

“It was long overdue. She was miserable here from the day she got here. I don't think she was happy with me, either. I guess not”—he smiled wryly—“or she'd still be here.” Even if he was taking it well, and knew it was for the best, it was still painful. They had been battling incessantly since Christmas. He was exhausted, and almost relieved now that it was over.

“I don't think it was about you,” Sarah consoled him. “I think it was about her, and living here, and not wanting to be here.”

“I offered to move back to Europe with her at one point, a few years ago. But that didn't do it for her, either. She's just not a happy person. She's very angry.” She had been angry right up till the last minute, and slammed the door when she left, which was not how he'd wanted to end it. She didn't know how to do it any other way. People left home in different ways, some in gentleness, others in anger.

“What about you? Did you meet the man of your dreams in Paris?” He looked anxious as he asked her.

“I made a friend.” She told him about her visit to the Château de Mailliard, meeting Pierre Pettit and his grandmother, and she told him all she'd seen and heard. She could hear the echo of Pierre's words, Go back and find a good one. She didn't say anything about that to Jeff. He had enough on his mind, and was still feeling raw after Marie-Louise left him. It was like when she ended it with Phil. She knew it was for the best, but it still hurt. “I had a great time,” she said quietly, as she finished her cappuccino. She didn't want to rub it in. He'd obviously had a rough time in her absence.

“I figured you did. You never e-mailed.” He smiled ruefully. It had worried him a little.

“I was savoring every minute, and I thought you were busy.” She told him again how sorry she was about Marie-Louise, and after that they wandered around, checking out the house, while he showed her new additions and details. The place had really come together in two weeks, just as he'd promised. “I'm going to sleep here tonight,” she said proudly. He smiled at how happy she seemed. She looked better than ever, and he was glad she was home. He had missed her, particularly lately. Marie-Louise had left the week before. But he hadn't wanted to tell Sarah till she got back. He needed time to adjust to it himself. It was still a little weird going home to an empty house. She had taken everything she wanted with her, and told him to keep or sell the rest. She had no great attachment to any of it, not even him, which was painful. Fourteen years was a long time. This was going to be an adjustment. The first couple of nights he almost laughed at himself. He realized that he missed the fighting. It had been the essence of their relationship for fourteen years.

“So what are you going to do today, Sarah?”

“Pack some stuff. Bring some things over. I want to start moving my clothes.” She didn't have that many. She had weeded out a lot of those, too. She was merciless now in her purging, getting rid of all the things she no longer needed or wanted.

“Do you want help?” he asked hopefully.

“Are you being polite, or do you mean it?” She knew he was busy.

“I mean it.” He wasn't as busy as she thought, and he wanted to help her.