The Third Wife

Susan was a third wife with a capital T. It’s not what you would imagine though. She was not the lithe little ingénue who crept through the spaces created by men in crisis. The men were in crisis of course, but it was a far cry from the desire of a man to make himself feel younger, more powerful, more in charge. No, he needed a woman like Susan because he was adrift.

Paul’s first marriage had been born from a high school crush that was pushed along the path by life’s milestones. There were homecomings, graduations, weddings and babies. But at 23, with two small children, there was an itch for a promise of a life not yet lived.

There were fights when he stayed out too late with his still single buddies at Chi-Chis. In fact that’s how he had met wife number two. Cindy had in fact been everything that Diane had not been. Diane had been nominated for Homecoming Queen, had gone to school to be a nurse, and had grown up when she became a parent. Cindy had wanted to have fun, and she was fun. Fun and crazy. But as a divorcee at 27, paul was enthralled. She had brought her young son to the mix, but the freedom with which she lived was refreshing. Cindy’s time was not heavily scheduled around soccer practice and birthday parties. The excitement had her moving in with him, into the accident that got them pregnant, and subsequently the proposal and marriage. No Cindy was nothing like Diane, but that was also a problem.

Whereas Diane nurtured their children and made their house a home, Cindy was not quite house broken. In the early days it had been thrilling. But as the newness of baby and marriage faded, the frustration over his home life and second family grew. There was no blending if of families as Cindy didn’t prioritize it. Nothing remotely homey happened and Paul worked harder and harder to reign in his crazy fun girl. Their daughter sassed him constantly and he took his own turn to complain about the late night at Chi-chis.

At 43, when the dust had settled, and Cindy had moved on to Rick or Tom or Steve, Paul sat with himself at the bar. He had sworn off women for a few years. He had found Jesus, and then forgotten him promptly. Paul made peace by digging himself comfortably into the middle ground between Diane and Cindy. He had all three kids every other weekend, and sometimes Cindy’s son when she had ‘stuff’. Age had given him perspective and the need to be a decent father. He loved his little family, but longed to make it more functional.

He often thought about the simplicity of Diane. The divorce had been acrimonious. At the time he had hated her. Hated her boring life and her steady drive through it. He would have given anything now to have a woman with a sign in her laundry room that said basic phrases like ‘Wine Not?’ And ‘I’d rather be at the beach.’ Paul wanted a woman steady and good, but Diane had moved on. The other Dianes out there had their own Paul’s and didn’t have any interest in making that mistake again.

That’s how he met Susan. Susan had wanted badly to be the first wife for anyone. She would have excelled at it, had they gotten past the abominably difficult stage of settling down into work and life and perhaps kids. But Susan wasn’t that woman. She was plain and ordinary. There was no capacity to reel in a man who wanted a Cindy or a Diane. There was no lure but peace and stability. She had almost married once, as a third wife, but had lost Brian unexpectedly to a heart attack at 41.

At 42 she didn’t have children or a litany of ex lovers. Susan had ritual and a steady job and a bit of freedom. As a friend, she could always make Paul’s son’s baseball game but on weekends when he didn’t have the kids, they could hop on their motorcycle and go on long rides to new and old bars. That was her appeal. Sharon wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t exciting and she didn’t need to be. She had grown on Paul slowly. They had met at the VFW and for 17 months had simply become friends. The middle ground, where he had so firmly tried to plant himself, was already Susan’s well established home.

It had started with a piece of chocolate cake. He had gone to Diane’s house for their oldest son’s birthday party. She had made a chocolate cake, and insisted that Paul take some home. He didn’t want it. It reminded him that the kids weren’t with him that weekend, on their birthday. He had taken the slice, which was quite good, and left it in his car while he went for a drink.

Susan had been sitting at the bar with friends. She had, without knowing it, crept into the spaces of Paul’s heart that he hadn’t yet verbalized or even told himself about. She liked Paul but wasn’t his Cindy or his Diane, and so she set about herself to stay where she was. The day had been long and full of raking, grocery shopping, and household chores. She greeted Paul and while they exchanged the data news, he thought about the cake. The cake that would make her potentially happy. The wheel began to turn actively and the middle ground man began to lose his cool and calm demeanor.

Movies, books, song, all teach us about the kind of love that happens with serendipity. The way he had casually met Diane in sophomore English literature, and knew they would get married. Alternatively the heart pounding way in which Cindy had given him the ‘catch me if you can’ look that drove his broken heart to feel alive. He was not prepared to offer this slice of cake from his ex wife to the woman who he was realizing was already the next Mrs. The unspoken meaning that said, I know we haven’t discussed this, but it feels like we’ve been together for years, and maybe we should do this.

Did she like cake? Honestly? Paul couldn’t remember. The feeling him him like a ton of bricks. He would tell her on the way out to the bar. She would come to his car, and he would give her the cake and she would love it and he would ask her if she had plans for dinner. It was perfect.

But it wasn’t perfect, he sat nervously, how many years had it been since he had been filled with this feeling? Paul was awkward, and he stared at the clock and wished that she would want to leave. Susan, having accepted Paul for what he could give her, had no such plans. She was willing to idle away the hours in his company. Paul, she had discovered, was no longer the Paul who married Cindys or Dianes. In the middle space he had grown and prospered. He wasn’t the worlds greatest romance, but he was good in his way.

The night eventually came and with it, the time to depart. Susan had a full day on Sunday, there was mulching and making meals ahead for the week. Paul followed her out. ‘I’ve got some cake, if you’d like, I know you’re working hard in the yard.’ It came out stupid. Paul reddened, and turned slightly away under the parking lot lights.’ Susan didn’t know what to do. It was unusual, and he had seemed uneasy. Coming back from Diane's had made him restless, but he didn’t often talk about it in direct terms. Paul had never given her any hint of deeper feelings.

‘Sure’ she said. Sure was good or okay in Paul’s mind. She would take the cake and he would ask her to dinner. It didn’t happen. He reached into his car and pulled out the Tupperware and handed it to her. She took it, waiting for him to explain it.

‘Did you tell Dylan happy birthday from me? Was it a good party?’ Susan asked to break the silence.

Paul nodded ‘He said to say hey. Lots more kids than family these days at these parties.’ And then more silence. Susan awkwardly held the cake.

‘Gotta get to Lowe’s early in the morning. I borrowed my brother in laws truck to pick up more mulch.’ Susan offered. Paul wanted to say something profound, something that would make her like him, but he didn’t have it. It was no longer his place in the middle ground to make firm declarations. He couldn’t kiss her madly or gently take her hand. Instead he readjusted his cap, crossed his arms, rocked back on his heels and inquired about the mulch and if he could offer a shovel or some tarp.

This was going take time.