Page 71 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

I set her back down on her feet, and she placed both hands – still encased in work gloves – on my chest.

“Thank you for this.”

“You’re very welcome, sweetness. Now, it’s my turn.”

She unzipped her coveralls and handed them to Greg as I secured my hard hat and visor. I handed her my phone for safekeeping and pulled on my gloves.

Greg gave me a quick reminder of the rules, then led me to one of the other rooms and opened the door. More heavy metal poured out of the speakers in the ceiling, and it was outfitted with the same sort of items, including the old flat screen TV, this one with a small crack in the corner of it. Melanie snapped a picture of me, then told me to have fun.

She took up her position at the window and waved at me. I blew her a kiss, then hefted the sledgehammer and slammed it down onto the TV while shouting, “Fuck you, Mitch,” at the top of my lungs. At some point, when I was using the bat to hit a set of coffee mugs, I found myself yelling at Grady.

“How could you die on me?”

“Why didn’t you see that semi drifting into your lane?”

“Why did it have to be you?”

By the time I finished, everything in the room was shattered, including me. I glanced at the window to find Melanie staring at me with one hand pressed against her lips. Tears glistened in her eyes, and one rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away without ever taking her eyes off me.

I trudged over to the door and opened it, sliding off my hard hat and visor as I stepped out of the room. I set them on the floor, and pulled off my gloves, tossing them on top. Melanie looked at me uncertainly, and I opened my arms and held them out in invitation. She took the three steps necessary to reach me, then buried her face in my neck as her arms wrapped around my waist.

I hugged her close and allowed her touch to heal the broken, jagged edges of my soul.

“Are you OK?” she whispered against my skin.

“No, but I will be,” I replied hoarsely.

She pressed a soft kiss on my neck, then stepped back as Greg walked up to join us.

“Everything OK, folks?” He looked me over, probably trying to make sure I hadn’t hurt myself.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

He shrugged, then cast one last, curious look at us over his shoulder as I tugged off my coveralls and placed them with the other gear.

I was lost in thought on the drive back to our house, and Melanie didn’t say a word until we were inside.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

I flopped down on the couch, and Melanie sat down next to me. I laid my head back and stared at the ceiling as I told her that I’d started off yelling at Mitch and ended up yelling at Grady.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’re angry that he’s gone, I would imagine. I know I am.” Melanie’s quiet admission caused me to swivel my head towards her.

She smiled tremulously. “I am angry. I’m angry that he’s not with us. I’m angry that you’re hurting, and you miss him so much. I’m angry that the boys and I are hurting and miss him. I’m angry because he should be here, with us. I’m fucking pissed because that accident never should have happened. I’m fucking pissed because that semi driver drove for more hours than he was allowed to, just so he could get some damned delivery bonus. I’m fucking pissed that he died, too, and couldn’t be held accountable for his shitty choices.” By the time she finished, she was all but shouting. Then, in a much more subdued voice, she added, “I would imagine that’s why you’re angry, too.”

I reached for her again, pulling her onto my lap so I could hold her. She came willingly and we sat like that for a long time, her head on my shoulder and her arms around my waist, while I took comfort from having her close.

Finally, she shifted off my lap and stood. It was all I could do to let her go.

“I think I’m going to head out. I have some laundry to do, and some things to get ready for work tomorrow.” She took a few steps, then turned around to look at me. “Thank you for today. I think it helped both of us. I’ll see you at Kim’s office tomorrow afternoon.”

I watched her walk out, torn between the desire to ask her to stay, and the need to have some time to process the highs and lows of today before I had to bare my soul to Kim tomorrow.

Melanie was waiting for me in the lobby the next afternoon. For once, neither of us seemed consumed by nerves before our session. I’d spent most of the evening trying to sort out my emotions, and I was actually feeling hopeful that I’d made some decent progress.

After our usual exchange of pleasantries with Kim, I jumped in first and told her my plan to rebuild our foundation, and about the time we’d spent together – dinner, breakfast, and our first date.