“How do you accept all that so calmly?” he nearly raged. “Oh, I made a little mistake, let’s all just let it go and forget about it!”
“Matt, stop that. I don’t know who you’re really angry with. Is it your ex-wife that makes you so furious? Is it me? Is it Mick, who you’ve never met?”
“I hate my ex-wife,” he said, looking away.
“I can’t help you with that,” she said. “But I can tell you it won’t help anything. And it probably won’t be good for us.”
“Why?” he said. “They’re not going to be a part of us!”
“You’re turning that anger on me,” she said. “You’re having trouble trusting me because you couldn’t trust Natalie. I’m not talking about a little anger that burns out quickly. It’s like a cancer, eating away at you. It’s not good.”
“How would you feel if I wanted to get together with Natalie?” he shouted.
“Maybe you should because you’re not at peace with your decision to get a divorce. Are you going to build your life around hating her? And being bitter about her?” She could see this was going nowhere. Matt didn’t realize most of his anger was with himself. He, like Ginger, was starting to realize he was a participant in whatever had gone wrong. He wasn’t at fault, but he was a part of it even if the only thing he was guilty of was marrying her in the first place.
“Before we can make a new start you have to come to terms with your divorce. You did the right thing—it wasn’t going to work. You don’t have to see her if you don’t want to. You don’t have to be mad at her anymore—it’s over. And you don’t have to distrust me.
“If you don’t want me to talk to Mick, I won’t,” she said quietly. “But it won’t be about me talking to Mick. It’ll be about you. You and your pain and anger.”
“Do whatever you want,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”
Ginger stayed on the couch. She looked at his sparsely furnished apartment with the naked walls. This wasn’t just because he was a guy and couldn’t be bothered. He’d been talking about the house he wanted to build in great detail and he wanted it to be beautiful and welcoming. He described a nurturing place, a family place filled with love and comfort. This apartment was to Matt what a tombstone was to a cemetery.
She tried to imagine him bringing women here. It didn’t seem particularly satisfying. He must have felt he was trying to fill an empty spot.
She gave him plenty of time before she went to the bedroom. She slipped off her summer dress, brushed her teeth and slid in beside him. He took her instantly into his big, strong arms.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was angry. I hate that bastard.”
“I know. And not just a little angry.”
“I don’t like it. I won’t talk to you that way again.”
She snuggled closer. “I hope not, Matt. It hurts. I haven’t done anything to warrant that kind of anger. But maybe I will someday. Then what?”
“You won’t,” he said. “I know you won’t. We love each other.”
“Oh, I won’t do what Natalie did,” she said. “I won’t do what Mick did. But I might defy you in some way and you’ll turn into Mad Matt. I don’t want to be with Mad Matt.”
“Never again, I promise.”
She turned in his arms, kissed his bristly chin and said, “Can you listen to me without getting angry? Because there’s something I want to say to you. And I don’t want to ever be afraid you’re going to flip out.”
“Say it. You can say anything.”
“I’m glad we have the harvest, my love,” she said. “We need the time, you and I. I’ll do anything I can to help but I think it’s important to get beyond these people from our pasts that hurt us.”
“I am beyond it,” he said. “I haven’t said I want to see Natalie.”
“I want you to see her,” she said.
He actually jumped a little in surprise. “You can’t want that!”
“I do. I think it would be good if you talked with her for a while. See if you can understand rather than blame her.”
“But Ginger, it’s her fault!” he said. “I was good to her. I tried, for God’s sake.”
“And now you have to try to forgive her,” she said. “I don’t want to bring that hate and anger into our future.”
“I promise I won’t let that happen to us,” he said.
“It’ll happen. I’m not going to be a perfect wife, sweetheart. I’m already failing you as a fiancée—just the threat of talking to Mick made you wild with anger. I’m sure there will be things I do or say that you hate, that make you so angry.”
“Everyone gets a little pissed sometimes...”
She shook her head. “I’m not talking about a little grumpy or upset. I know what it is to be mad—I hung up on Mick the last time I talked to him. I’m talking about that rage you feel when you think you’re not in control anymore. I don’t want to take that forward. I want to go forward with joy. I want the past to be really in the past. I can’t tell you how to feel but I think the person you really need to forgive is yourself. We’re not perfect human beings. We all make terrible mistakes. Forgive her, Matt. If you ever figure out your part in it, forgive yourself. Then we can move on.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he growled and turned away from her.
She stroked his back. “I don’t want you to hurt over it anymore, that’s all.” Because, she thought, we can’t make a good marriage on the foundation of all that rage and pain. “Maybe I don’t know anything, but it seems if you were over it then being with me now would bring you more contentment. Peace of mind. And this doesn’t feel like contentment and peace of mind.”
Even though he had presented his back to her, she curled up to him and eventually went to sleep. Deep in the night she felt his hands on her, his lips on her neck and breast. His touch was so precious to her; she responded to him so naturally. She opened up to him immediately, returned his kisses, held him close, moved with him, took him into her and experienced all the rapture their intimacy always provided. He was slow and gentle until she encouraged him to be a little more urgent and he did what he did best, brought her the ultimate pleasure.
“Matt, stop that. I don’t know who you’re really angry with. Is it your ex-wife that makes you so furious? Is it me? Is it Mick, who you’ve never met?”
“I hate my ex-wife,” he said, looking away.
“I can’t help you with that,” she said. “But I can tell you it won’t help anything. And it probably won’t be good for us.”
“Why?” he said. “They’re not going to be a part of us!”
“You’re turning that anger on me,” she said. “You’re having trouble trusting me because you couldn’t trust Natalie. I’m not talking about a little anger that burns out quickly. It’s like a cancer, eating away at you. It’s not good.”
“How would you feel if I wanted to get together with Natalie?” he shouted.
“Maybe you should because you’re not at peace with your decision to get a divorce. Are you going to build your life around hating her? And being bitter about her?” She could see this was going nowhere. Matt didn’t realize most of his anger was with himself. He, like Ginger, was starting to realize he was a participant in whatever had gone wrong. He wasn’t at fault, but he was a part of it even if the only thing he was guilty of was marrying her in the first place.
“Before we can make a new start you have to come to terms with your divorce. You did the right thing—it wasn’t going to work. You don’t have to see her if you don’t want to. You don’t have to be mad at her anymore—it’s over. And you don’t have to distrust me.
“If you don’t want me to talk to Mick, I won’t,” she said quietly. “But it won’t be about me talking to Mick. It’ll be about you. You and your pain and anger.”
“Do whatever you want,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”
Ginger stayed on the couch. She looked at his sparsely furnished apartment with the naked walls. This wasn’t just because he was a guy and couldn’t be bothered. He’d been talking about the house he wanted to build in great detail and he wanted it to be beautiful and welcoming. He described a nurturing place, a family place filled with love and comfort. This apartment was to Matt what a tombstone was to a cemetery.
She tried to imagine him bringing women here. It didn’t seem particularly satisfying. He must have felt he was trying to fill an empty spot.
She gave him plenty of time before she went to the bedroom. She slipped off her summer dress, brushed her teeth and slid in beside him. He took her instantly into his big, strong arms.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was angry. I hate that bastard.”
“I know. And not just a little angry.”
“I don’t like it. I won’t talk to you that way again.”
She snuggled closer. “I hope not, Matt. It hurts. I haven’t done anything to warrant that kind of anger. But maybe I will someday. Then what?”
“You won’t,” he said. “I know you won’t. We love each other.”
“Oh, I won’t do what Natalie did,” she said. “I won’t do what Mick did. But I might defy you in some way and you’ll turn into Mad Matt. I don’t want to be with Mad Matt.”
“Never again, I promise.”
She turned in his arms, kissed his bristly chin and said, “Can you listen to me without getting angry? Because there’s something I want to say to you. And I don’t want to ever be afraid you’re going to flip out.”
“Say it. You can say anything.”
“I’m glad we have the harvest, my love,” she said. “We need the time, you and I. I’ll do anything I can to help but I think it’s important to get beyond these people from our pasts that hurt us.”
“I am beyond it,” he said. “I haven’t said I want to see Natalie.”
“I want you to see her,” she said.
He actually jumped a little in surprise. “You can’t want that!”
“I do. I think it would be good if you talked with her for a while. See if you can understand rather than blame her.”
“But Ginger, it’s her fault!” he said. “I was good to her. I tried, for God’s sake.”
“And now you have to try to forgive her,” she said. “I don’t want to bring that hate and anger into our future.”
“I promise I won’t let that happen to us,” he said.
“It’ll happen. I’m not going to be a perfect wife, sweetheart. I’m already failing you as a fiancée—just the threat of talking to Mick made you wild with anger. I’m sure there will be things I do or say that you hate, that make you so angry.”
“Everyone gets a little pissed sometimes...”
She shook her head. “I’m not talking about a little grumpy or upset. I know what it is to be mad—I hung up on Mick the last time I talked to him. I’m talking about that rage you feel when you think you’re not in control anymore. I don’t want to take that forward. I want to go forward with joy. I want the past to be really in the past. I can’t tell you how to feel but I think the person you really need to forgive is yourself. We’re not perfect human beings. We all make terrible mistakes. Forgive her, Matt. If you ever figure out your part in it, forgive yourself. Then we can move on.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he growled and turned away from her.
She stroked his back. “I don’t want you to hurt over it anymore, that’s all.” Because, she thought, we can’t make a good marriage on the foundation of all that rage and pain. “Maybe I don’t know anything, but it seems if you were over it then being with me now would bring you more contentment. Peace of mind. And this doesn’t feel like contentment and peace of mind.”
Even though he had presented his back to her, she curled up to him and eventually went to sleep. Deep in the night she felt his hands on her, his lips on her neck and breast. His touch was so precious to her; she responded to him so naturally. She opened up to him immediately, returned his kisses, held him close, moved with him, took him into her and experienced all the rapture their intimacy always provided. He was slow and gentle until she encouraged him to be a little more urgent and he did what he did best, brought her the ultimate pleasure.
