Ronald James | Part One

Boston, MA

I would like to start off by telling you the story of Ronald James.

It is a true story, so I apologize beforehand for the brutality you are about to hear. Yet among the gruesomeness, there is an intensive balancing act of beauty and passion. The story of Ronald James is a wondrous tale about the treacherous journey every heart must take to discover one's own inner peace and purpose, while simultaneously learning to understand how to properly love themself.

From a soft, cushioned chair on the opposite side of the dining room table, Ronald spoke to his wife.

“I love you, Lynette. I am just no longer in love with you.”

Unaware of their two teenage children perched on the top stair of their home’s two story staircase, they each confessed their departure from their vows. Ronald more so than his wife. He explained, in great detail, the crippling financial hardships they endured because of her spending habits. After he had finished his money rant, he dug into her deeper by criticizing her lack of intimacy.

“You haven’t touched me in years,” Ronald cried softly.

He could tell that his wife was trying to figure out the right words to say. Yet instead of any explanation, or attempt at trying to fight to preserve the past twenty five years of marriage, tears rained down her chapped lips - keeping them shut - onto a white tablecloth - staining it gray wherever the drops landed. Barely eaten food simmered on cold plates just off to the side. Red wine laid still in the two burgundy glasses, and three wax candles peppered the dark room with flickering strands of yellow light.

Wrathful wind pounded against the roof, and thick snowflakes coated every window with white layers of moist slush. An impressive fire crackled from the hearth, filling their home with warmth, and a handful of wrapped presents patiently waited beneath a heavily decorated Christmas tree for anxious fingers to rip them open.

The family dog, Ellie, a red golden retriever, snored, kicked and moaned with pleasure on the leather couch in the adjacent room. Completely unaware of the imminent change to his routine, lifestyle, and overall happiness. It was a risk Ronald was willing to take, but having to explain himself, and his actions to his children, broke his heart in a way he feared could never be mended.

His plan was to wait until next Monday to tell them, which would allow them to celebrate Christmas, and the new year together one last time as a family. Unfortunately, Ronald did not plan for his kids to overhear the current conversation.

The words had been spoken, and hearts had been opened. The food was cold, and the wine was beginning to turn stale, so Ronald rose first from the table.

“I am sorry, Lynette,” He said, while clearing the two plates from the tablecloth they received as a gift from Lynette’s grandfather on their wedding day.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asked as he was about to disappear into the dark kitchen.

“Too long.”

Overwhelmed with confusion, regret, and love, Lynette consumed every last drop of wine in her glass, then reached across the table and did the same to Ronald’s glass.

Before entering the somber dining again, Ronald fixed himself a double shot of Basil Hayden bourbon. As the room temperature whiskey coated his throat, and emotions, his wife broke down in the other room. The first floor was being devoured by heavy sobbing, and breathless panting.

It was a sound that forced Ronald to pour himself two more shots. The third one burned his esophagus, and caused him to squint his eyes and pulse his lips. His head fell groggy, and his balance began to bounce.

The wind increased its fury on the family home. Pounding the foundation with thick snow. Lynette’s weeping flickered with the shifting red and yellow shadows from the balsam and cedar candles on the dark walls of the dining room, and Ellie’s unconscious dream groans switched to playful growls.

Ronald stared deep into his glass, then out through the kitchen window, thinking about how he was going to explain to his children that he no longer loved their mother. Divorce wasn’t the problem for Ronald. The problem that ripped holes in his heart was the reality of his children having to grow up in separate houses.

Trying to drown the inevitable in bourbon, he poured himself another. Bringing the glass to his lips as he tilted his head back, the floorboards above him creaked under the weight of two young bodies.