Raw Edges: A Memoir

Two Thousand Kisses Deep

: : 168 : : High above the hood of our car, a hawk swirled with the current. David leaned forward, his eyes skyward as I oohed and ahhed over the marvel of that bird of prey floating on the invisible ridges of thin Colorado air. It understood the physics of ether and the avoidance of gravity. Though I didn’t want to leave our home in Salt Lake City, David, Brad, and I had moved to Colorado in 1990, while Chris and Jeremy went off to the Northwest to attend Evergreen and Whitman colleges. David had been traveling back and forth between Salt Lake City and Summit County, Colorado, to take care of an investment he’d made in Silverthorne with his business partner. The high mountain ranch property needed to be developed and sold before it drained off the money David had made in Concord after splitting the profits equally with his brothers and sisters. He needed to protect our newfound riches. “We need to move to Colorado,” he’d said one night as I sat on the edge of the bed removing my shoes. “I can’t keep traveling back and forth.” “You know how I feel about leaving Salt Lake . . . I’ve got so much going for me here. A writing network. The kids’ friends. All of our friends.” “I know, but even though you’re happy here, I’ve never felt like Utah was my home. I’m just not like most of the people here.” “So you’ve said many times.” My voice could be caustic. Like lye. :: Two Thousand Kisses Deep :: Two Thousand Kisses Deep : : 169 “It’s just killing me to live in two places.” Then he looked at me with narrowing eyes. “But I guess if you have to, you could stay here . . .” Lines of demarcation, lines in the sand. The silence was pungent, almost putrid with resistance as I carried my walking shoes to the closet. But, caution here. That was our family we were talking about—our family we’d promised to keep together at all costs. “I guess if we have to, we have to,” I finally said. I pulled my nightgown over my head. “There’s still Brad to think about.” “And there’s something else I need to tell you.” He stood on one side of the bed. I stood on the other. “You know I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore. I’ve met a woman over there who’s really stressed out. She’s in an unhappy marriage, and she’s developed MS, probably because of all the stress. I wanted to help her out, so I’ve been sharing some information with her on relaxation methods.” I could feel the sympathy card being dealt. I braced myself as we pulled back the bedcovers and put our pillows against the headboard to serve as cushions for our backs. “She’s really been down,” he said from across the bed, both of us still standing. “That’s all well and good, but your idea of helping someone out is different from mine. You always think you’re in love. I can hear it in your voice.” When he didn’t answer, I exploded. “This is ridiculous.” I walked around the end of the bed—a banshee unloosed again, feeling like the agonized female spirit bewailing the coming death of something she loved. “When will this end? When are you going to put our marriage first?” “Maybe we should just get a divorce,” he said. “Fine with me,” I said quickly, buckling my armor. “I’ll keep the Salt Lake house, my friends, and my niche. You take an apartment in Dillon. Done deal.” A long moment of silence settled over us as we climbed beneath the bedcovers to sit side by side—upright and stiff. “Let’s think this over,” David said. “This isn’t a decision we should make right now. We’ve made it through a lot of ups and downs, you know.” 170 : : r a w e d g e s I sat there rigid—a wooden woman who needed someone else to operate her arms and legs. My skull felt numb. And then, in a moment of levity, I thought how maybe I really was a numbskull. I laughed to myself, though didn’t let it show. “There’s Brad,” I said. I slid down under the covers onto my...