Making of a Kept Woman
chapter 10
Chapter 10: Carving a New Path
When I returned to Florida, I immediately resumed my role as housewife by catching up on laundry, cooking dinner, washing dishes, packing Nate’s lunches, scheduling appointments, and so on. A routine so engrained in me, it would require more effort to override it than follow through. But this time around, I was also digging deep within for a hidden dream worthy of devoting my time and attention to. That felt like progress.
The first idea I entertained was opening my own business. Baking had been a lifelong passion, so I’d often dreamed of owning a shop of some sort. When I took some time to seriously consider it, I realized what baking truly meant to me. It enabled me to access parts of myself that were otherwise elusive during day-to-day life. It also had the uncanny ability to collapse time. Somehow, baking anchored me in the present moment as my hands chopped, mixed, and folded ingredients, while simultaneously connecting me to past generations who’d taught me recipes and techniques, and opened my heart to what the future could hold. It was the most transcendental experience. I’d always thought of it as a creative outlet but failed to realize its deep-set roots. Thoughtful consideration revealed that baking was actually my therapy, a means of self-expression, a connection to my lineage, and a lifeline to my sovereign self.
When I climbed back down from the clouds, I thought about the grueling reality of kitchen work- especially on a large scale. Daily labor requirements and the stress of pending deadlines and profit margins would absolutely spoil the magic for me. My relationship with baking was too precious to allow that to happen. So, for every reason why baking was dear to me, was a reason NOT to jeopardize it with an amateur business venture. I’d have to continue brainstorming the possibilities.
Several weeks of soul searching went by and I hadn’t come up with another interest worth pursuing. Batting around ideas that came to me kept hope alive that another dream was inside waiting to be discovered, but pressuring myself to unearth it created stress and slowed the process. I needed to relax. I needed to stop thinking about it so the answers could flow to me. Indulging my creative side was the closest thing I knew to relaxation,… which circled me back to baking.
Broderick called while I was “patiently” waiting for my dream’s reveal as his business opportunity had taken shape in Florida. He was going to be in town for a few days and wanted to know if I’d be interested in attending a couple events that were open to guests. I felt torn. I genuinely wanted to support Broderick and his new endeavor but felt intimidated by hobnobbing with his accomplished peers. After considering how daunting the entire transition must be for him, though, it was much easier to push aside my benign fears and sign on to be his plus-one.
I doubted I owned anything suitable for Broderick’s events since the majority of my wardrobe was athleisure wear. Like most, I took full advantage of the subtropics’ easy breezy lifestyle. A quick look through my closet for anything that served me- even as inspiration- turned up the maid of honor dress from my sister’s wedding. While beautiful, it would be out of place at a business affair. A deeper dive found a couple dresses and an elegant ensemble tucked in the back. All were from before the baby rollercoaster, so there was no chance they’d fit my current frame. I’d have to go shopping.
Unfortunately, I had no idea where to start that search. I’d lost more than my sense of style over the last few years- I’d lost my sense of self. What would look decent on my current body? What would feel decent on my body? What do people wear to work functions these days? When my insecurities erupted, I tried to ignore them by rummaging through the stash of pretty, shiny accessories I’d accumulated over the years. Among them were two evening bags and a pair of strappy heels that got my gears turning. The shimmery clutch would offer elegant fun to whatever outfits I picked up, while the shoes offered total relief. I may have put on a few pounds, but my feet were still the same size; I could skip the dreaded shoe hunt.
Scouting department stores for clothing was even more difficult than I’d expected. I sifted through every dress, pant, jumpsuit, and skirt at my disposal for the right blend of beauty and class but only found a couple items that fit the bill. I chose a dramatic white blouse with waist-cinching sash and oversized sleeves, and black pants for one night. For the other, an all-black cocktail dress with a v-neckline and sequins stitched down the long sheer sleeves. Finding them was a tiring yet rewarding task, as I felt more confident attending the events in my stylish new armor.
Nate was at the gym when Broderick came to pick me up for our first dinner engagement. I left a short note on the counter saying I’d brought my house keys, so he knew he didn’t have to wait up. He was using our only car, so he probably had no idea where I’d gone or how I’d gotten there- but I failed to think of that beforehand. I’d started to feel anxious about the night ahead and only thought to relay that I had my keys before hurrying out.
During our drive, all Broderick could talk about was the electric car his new boss had loaned him. The luxurious features made it feel more like a spaceship than a sedan, which had him completely enamored. He’d gotten so used to walking and biking around Portland that gliding along the open highway in such a powerful vehicle was exhilarating for him. The boyish smile plastered on his face made that apparent. While I shared in his joy, I found myself wondering what such unadulterated pleasure felt like since it had been so long.
Broderick’s exuberance melted into reserved charm when we arrived at the club. His colleagues were genuinely warm and invested in the introductions, which quelled some of the anxiety that surfaced upon entering the sea of strangers. And oddly enough, mingling brought additional ease. Most conversations centered around the firm’s goals for creating a healthier environment, which was as touching as it was inspiring. Spending even a short time with Broderick’s peers helped me appreciate why he loved working in his field.
Some conversations were grossly over my head, but still enjoyable. Being surrounded by good-natured people with honorable intentions was invigorating—medicinal, even. It appeared Broderick felt similarly by the way his business persona frequently gave way to the lighthearted guy I’d known for ages. Knowing he’d been feeling conflicted about leaving Portland, it was comforting to see him so content in his new environment.
The evening left the two of us in good spirits, with Broderick as grateful for my company as I was for the refreshing night out. Along the drive home, we finalized plans for the next event. He’d pick me up at six o’clock on Saturday for a dinner that would serve as the closing bell for the week’s exchanges. It sounded like there would be more celebration and less shoptalk, which had us both looking forward to it.
We pulled up to my house around eleven and all the lights were off, so I assumed Nate was already asleep. I quietly entered and made my way towards the master bedroom, stopping for a drink of water along the way. I was mid-sip when Nate exited the spare bedroom with an empty plate in hand. He didn’t say a word as he approached. He tossed the plate into the steel sink, causing a couple shards to fly into the air. I shrieked, but he still didn’t say anything.
“What the hell?” I snarled.
“That’s why you weren’t home tonight?” he gestured to the driveway.
“Like it matters? We haven’t been on the same page for months,” I said defensively, yet calmly, trying my best not to escalate things.
“If you want to be with someone else, just tell me. Don’t go behind my back and leave cryptic messages,” he barked as he crumpled the note I’d left on the counter and threw it in the sink.
“I left a note. I wasn’t going behind your back or sneaking out like a teenager. I would have gladly told you more if it seemed like you cared. And we’re just friends. It was a business dinner,” I said before heading to our bedroom to get undressed. Along the way I shouted just loud enough for him to hear me, “I’m going out Saturday night, too!”
I tried to remain composed on the outside, but I was furious that Nate waited until he was enraged before expressing any interest in me, or us, again. As if I was a toy he’d lost interest in but wouldn’t allow anyone else to play with! That was a breaking point for me. And even though I’d never done anything like it before, I decided to retaliate.
The following day when Nate was at work, I got a ride to the mall. I was on a mission to find the sexiest pair of heels that would fit my gigantic feet and the mac daddy of undergarments to squeeze my curves into all the right places. I’d show Nate what he was missing out on! My search turned up an enchanting pair of bejeweled heels with teal bottoms that embodied all my favorite aesthetics, but they didn’t have my size… Shocker. The runners-up with embellished ruching would have to do. I’d probably get more milage out of them, anyway. Body shapers were a dime a dozen, so I just picked one that did miracles for me in the dressing room and hoped it would prove itself worthy underneath my dress.
On Saturday afternoon I spent nearly two hours getting ready for my evening out. Nate was home when I stepped into the shower but was gone by the time I’d finished. I assumed he was blowing off steam at the gym but couldn’t be certain. I started my transformation from housewife to anything resembling sexy by squeezing all of me into the seemingly undersized bodysuit. I felt sweaty and frazzled by the time I finished, causing me to question why I’d bothered showering. Then I slipped my dress on. Damn!! I looked gooooood! I smiled at my reflection as I enjoyed sweet relief that my efforts had been rewarded, then buried my face in a cold, refreshing washcloth.
I put a bathrobe on over my dress so I could apply my makeup. I was going for dramatic eyes but was sorely out of practice, so it took a bit of time and even more patience. Thankfully, my hair basically did itself. Being shoulder-length, its naturally tousled state looked chic without much effort. When I disrobed and saw the whole package in the mirror, I was honestly impressed with how everything came together. I was a little concerned that my new undergarment produced a scandalous amount of cleavage, but didn’t have any backup outfits. The best I could do was remove the body shaper if Broderick thought the look was inappropriate. Then I completed my ensemble with a pain reliever just in case the heels were too much for my temperamental back.
As promised, Broderick was in my driveway by 6 o’clock. I hurried out the best I could in my new, much too tall shoes. When I slid into the passenger seat, I noticed an unfamiliar look on his face; he was pale, too. I nervously asked if what I was wearing was suitable and started anxiously picking at my dress and fussing with my hair. He cleared his throat and said I looked fine as he backed out of the driveway.
The drive felt tense compared to the one just a couple days earlier, so I asked if everything was alright. I wondered if, perhaps, the business meetings hadn’t gone as planned. He side-glanced at my legs and said he wasn’t used to seeing me so dressed up.
I laughed, “Yeah. Quite the contrast to sweats and oversized tees!” while motioning to what I was wearing. Our quick chuckle shifted the energy back to normal and set the stage for a comfortable evening with his colleagues.
The rest of the night went off without a hitch. It was the end of a busy week ironing out the nuances of their collaboration, so alcohol flowed as freely as the conversation. Colleagues and spouses mixed and mingled like it was a friendly celebration- hardly any mention of business matters. I heard all about Gary’s two grown sons from his wife, as well as, so and so’s charitable work, and what’s his name’s ecotourism adventures. I don’t recall everyone’s name because I must’ve spoken to about forty people while under the influence, but I do remember they were uniquely fascinating. I could tell Broderick would truly enjoy being part of their team.
The evening closed with the announcement that the new partnership would be fully underway within two months, which was equal parts exciting and surprising. That was when it started to feel real that Broderick was moving to Florida.
During the drive back to my house, I asked Broderick countless questions about his plans for transitioning into his new position. The real estate market wasn’t where he wanted it to be, so he was going to lease his condo in Portland instead of pushing through a sale he wasn’t happy with. He also planned on renting a place near his new office while getting acquainted with the area. His voice hummed with optimism all throughout our discussion, but he sounded most excited about upgrading to an electric car. He’d had the same jalopy since college with no reason to buy a new one until now. While nothing could replace what he was leaving behind, I was grateful he’d found some things to truly look forward to.
When we arrived at my house, Broderick got out of the car to give me a hug goodnight. He thanked me several times for attending the functions with him, then joked he might need to hire me again after he got settled in. Spending quality time with him in Portland, then at the parties, reminded me how much of a blessing it was to do things together. While texts, emails, and video chats had kept us connected over the years, there was nothing like being in the same place as one another. For the first time, it felt like his fresh start might mark the beginning of a new chapter for me, too.
Then I turned to face what awaited me inside.
I’d been able to block the marital woes out of my mind all night, but there was no escaping them once I laid eyes on our house. I was neither eager nor ready to enter. Despite Broderick staying put until I was safely inside, it seemed impossible to coax my feet to move quickly.
I could tell Nate was in the spare bedroom because the light was on. When I passed by on my way to the master, I heard a heavy breath on the other side of the closed door- I assumed he was doing pull-ups. The house was silent otherwise, so when I dropped one of my heels while reaching for the master doorknob, it caused quite a ruckus. Nate poked his head out, looked me up and down with clenched jaw, then closed the door without saying anything.
That was the moment I quietly acknowledged it was time we had a conversation about the fate of our relationship. It would have to wait until our emotions cooled down a bit, though. I lifted the proverbial rug and swept the smoldering embers under it for the night, hoping the right opportunity would present itself in the very near future.
Over a week of contemplating what I’d say to Nate passed before I finally had that sit down with him. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but it needed to take place- for both our sakes. I did my best to explain how the miscarriages had changed me and how I felt they’d changed us as a couple. I also pointed out that we were in the process of rebuilding our relationship when I’d gotten pregnant and miscarried the first time. Since everything had unfolded unexpectedly and rapidly while were still finding our footing as a “new” couple, it seemed our weak roots were no match for the storm we faced. Saying it aloud broke my heart all over again.
Nate wasn’t prepared for the conversation like I was, so he didn’t have many thoughts and feelings to express in his own words, but he agreed with everything I’d unloaded.
I ended by saying that it was time for me to take that solo adventure I didn’t take years earlier. I needed there to be physical distance between us. Distance from the pain we inadvertently triggered when we looked at each other. Distance to let the past fade away and, hopefully, heal like a scab that isn’t constantly picked at. Distance to discover who we were as individuals, rather than spouses or expectant parents. We both needed time and space apart.
Even though it broke our hearts, we knew it was what was best for each of us. We both needed to find our unique selves, so we could create the lives we wanted to live. It was time to walk away from the path we’d found ourselves on and forge the one(s) more fulfilling.
Not one to shy away from pragmatism, I explained that while I would always love him, I wanted him to find his happiness— no matter what that looked like. If Nate were to fall in love with someone else, I’d support him. If he wanted to have a baby with someone else, I’d support him. If he wanted to re-enlist in the military or move away to start a whole new chapter, I’d support him. The separation was meant to help each of us heal from a past that was haunting us and find joy in life again. It wasn’t about giving up, or due to failure on either of our parts. It just seemed that time apart was crucial for sowing our seeds of change.
Being that Nate was the one who’d gone to work every day to pay for our home and all that was in it, I felt it only fair that he received it in our split. I didn’t have much money, only some book royalties in savings and a few stocks, but I’d figure it out. While I never imagined starting over as a single, career-less woman in her mid-thirties, that’s exactly where the next chapter was going to start.