Reconnected
DH Steppler
Copyright © 2012 DH Steppler
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
With that said, yes, the characters in this story are fictional; though I have taken a few liberties in borrowing names and certain personality traits from my own loved ones in creating these characters. The names were used because the name fit the character.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher.
The Publisher makes no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any commercial damages.
2012-07-13
Dedication
For Ollie, Kevin, and Margaret
Acknowledgments
With the deepest gratitude I thank my daughter Margaret for picking up the slack around the house, never complaining, and always giving me the space I needed while putting my thoughts into words. Truly Margaret, your support and love were a great anchor that kept me focused. Keeping the ‘thank yous’ in the family, more gratitude goes to Fred Becker, my brother, the first to read the story and give me feedback. Freddy your gentleness and encouragement within your honesty deepened my conviction to continue. Another family member who put his support into action and gave up some of his limited ‘reading time’ to read my book and give me honest feedback, I thank you, Kevin, my son. My heart swells with love and gratitude at your quiet, tender kindness while giving me your criticism and pointers.
D.H. Steppler
The Invitation
Henry and I had been separated for ten years. I still performed certain household and personal tasks for him such as: his weekly shopping; his hair cuts; paying his dental bills; Sunday night dinner with the family and, of course, all organization of anything family related. And, for the first few years, every now and then we would indulge ourselves in some personal wrestling, the pat and tickle kind, if you catch my drift.
He was a difficult man to live with but I didn’t live with him anymore and I’d found peace. I still tried to share the good things in my life with him but I was a bit “gun shy,” so to speak. I’d extended so many invitations in the past to exciting events, adventures, travel, happenings, cruises, dances, musical concerts, and the last thing was a promotion party in my honor. His response was usually negative and sometimes brutally mean. Or he would say yes and then change his mind at the last minute, leaving me in a lurch.
So what was I doing? Why was I putting myself through that again? I was a glutton for punishment, I guess. Those were stupid questions because I knew why I did it over and over again. I’d always been a woman of hope. I’d always honored my marriage vows and had always tried to improve things for us and the rest of the family, too.
Even though he’d rejected my requests time and time again, I persevered. I have to marvel at myself because each time I was sure he’d say yes. My requests (invitations) were simple, never elaborate, always trying to make it easy for him.
That was such a special invitation. I’d found a cruise to Hawaii that I wanted to take. I’d acquired and set aside the funds. It was time to bring the subject up at Sunday dinner.
To put him in a receptive mood, I made his favorite meal for the occasion. After dessert, I invited him to smoke a quick bowl; a little pot always improved communication between us. The bowl dusted, I showed him the trip brochure. My invitation was basic; not wanting to leave him with anyway to misunderstand.
“I‘d like for you to take this trip with me; are you interested?”
At first he just stared at me so I continued in a flurry of words.
“It’s already paid for and won’t cost you anything except for 15 days of your time.”
“No,” he said and brushed the brochure away.
His word was flat, without a hint of indecision.
“I’m not that kind.” Then he walked out of the room in an irritated state.
‘Helen, you should be used to it by now. Why are you so upset?’ I wondered, ‘What was I missing? I was a dimwit who would never be able to understand it.’ The man told me over and over again that he loved me and wanted me to move back in with him. I tortured myself constantly trying to make sense of him.
People told me that it wasn’t me and that the problem was with him. That could be true, but I was pretty sure if I wanted things to change, it was up to me to make the effort, every effort. So I thought for a minute, ‘Had I made every effort’? We were supposed to be partners; that’s all I ever really wanted, a partner to dance through life with. Honestly when I said my wedding vows, the part about in good times and in bad, I had no idea how long the bad could last. Who knew that it could engulf my entire youth and threaten my twilight years, as well?
An old saying comes to mind that Henry used to throw at me now and then. ‘Don’t throw good money after bad.’ I had a small paradigm shift. ‘I’m not going to throw anymore good years after bad’. The truth hit me like a slap. He’d been done with me for a long time but hadn’t the guts to say it outright. I was moving on and going where love was an action word and not a tie that binds. Ok, I would still honor my vows, because that’s just me. But I was busting loose.
It took a full fifteen minutes to compose myself before I was in any shape to rejoin the family. I put on a happy face and went to the porch to have ‘a catch’ with the kids.
My daughter Margaret, alias Lulu, was particularly sensitive to my moods. She came to me and put her arms around me.
“I love you, Helen.”
She had taken to calling me Helen a few months back and I found it funny and endearing the way she said Helen with emphasis on the last syllable – hel-Len.
While she was hugging me, my sons Kevin alias Pete and Ollie alias Mr. Moon joined us to make it a group hug. Those three people understood better than anyone the issues that I had to deal with when it came to their father. Henry had always been on the peripheral of our family. His real life was separate from ours. We annoyed him often and he referred to us as ‘you people’.
While we stood there with our mini love fest going on, knowing that these were the people in my life who I love and who love me, was enough for me. It was definitely time to seriously refocus.
Margaret, squeezed between her brothers, I could barely hear her.
“Time for a catch. I need some air.”
Ollie and Kevin laughed but didn’t move. Soon we were all laughing at her being trapped in a group hug.
