A Puff of Smoke

It seemed to all disappear in a puff of smoke; the whole last fifteen years of my life. One minute I was happily married. I was living in a beautiful two story Cape Cod house with a Jacuzzi on the back deck in an exclusive neighborhood. The next minute I was sitting across a solid oak table polished to such a glean that I could see my reflection in it, facing my husband and his lawyer, all alone. No lawyer for me, I couldn’t afford one. Obviously, going by the expensive suit that the lawyer was wearing and the posh leather furnishings of the conference room of his law office, my husband could afford a good attorney. Apparently he could afford a very good one. I knew that he earned a comfortable salary but I didn’t realize until that moment just how comfortable.

I was wishing that I was somewhere far away from this room…exploring some ancient ruin or the pyramids of Egypt or climbing the Eiffel tower; anyplace but here. The most exotic place that I’d been to so far was to the university here in Cranston, a small college town in Northern Massachusetts, where I worked as an Administrative Assistant in the English department. As much as I love the Ivy-league halls, believe me when I say it’s not exotic. I had always dreamed about taking a ride on the Orient Express and solving a mystery similar to one out of the pages of an Agatha Christie novel, one of my favorite authors. My soon to be ex husband is an English professor at the same college that I work at, a position he acquired after years of studying to obtain his doctorate. Those were years that I worked to support us while he studied. Years that I continued to dream while he made his dreams come true.

I didn’t mind being the sole supporter while he toiled away toward getting his degrees, a Master’s degree in Education and his doctorate in English literature, studying until all hours of the night…or so I thought, now as I sit here in the midst of a divorce proceeding that I didn’t see coming, I wonder if he was studying more than just books all those nights. I was happy to be the woman behind the man and help him grow and achieve his career goal which he eventually did and yet he still seemed to toil late into the night…hmm. I knew once he was established in his teaching career, it would be my turn. Someday, I planned on finishing a Master’s degree myself. Someday I planned on being a published writer, someday… my husband would smile when I told him of my plans and I took it as a sign of encouragement. Now I believe that he was just patronizing me, or he knew that he wasn’t planning on being around someday.

When he was hired to teach at the university two years ago, we moved from our one bedroom apartment just outside the campus to a neighborhood full of prestigious people living in prestigious houses. I preferred our old neighborhood where I felt more at home with the people that lived there but Jeremy wanted to live somewhere that fit his new career, a distinguished professor and soon to be department head of a highly regarded university. He seemed to hit the jackpot with the board of directors because they didn’t waste any time hiring him as a professor and then within a few months promoting him to the head of the English department. Since we were still living off my wages when he first started at the college, when it came time to move to the new neighborhood that he was interested in, we were lucky to get a good deal on a house that had gone into foreclosure. This was something that my husband didn’t want me to bandy about to anyone because he didn’t want our financial situation to seem inferior to the rest of the community. I would just smile and ‘yes dear’ him and then roll my eyes when he turned away. I should have started realizing then that we weren’t suited. I’m more spaghetti and Chianti while Jeremy is more Chateaubriand and hundred year old scotch.

Everything in our lives seemed to be running so smoothly. Our plans for the future all laid out for us. Then one day, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. The puff of smoke that was emanating from my soon to be ex husband’s polished cherry wood pipe, filled with his favorite tobacco blend, the sweet aroma making me nauseous as it wafted toward me across the table. He was smiling his usual patronizing smile at me. His green eyes that I thought once to be enchanting now seemed cold to me. He wore his perfectly tied tie and his crisp shirt with the French cuffs and the onyx cuff links. They completed the tailored tweed jacket ensemble that told the world ’look at me...I am a big important person at a very prestigious university.´ It made me want to throw the crystal ashtray that was in arm’s reach from me on the table at him, but then I figured that I would just wind up having to pay for it so I refrained from doing so. I couldn’t understand why he was doing this to me…doing this to us.

The next thing I know, I am out of a marriage, out of my Cape Cod house and my Jacuzzi, and out of a job. That’s what happens when you can’t afford a lawyer. My husband had moved out of the house shortly after his promotion and I could no longer afford the mortgage payments. The university board felt it would be awkward to have me working in the same department as my professor ex and so found reason to let me go by doing away with my position and consolidating offices with the Fine Arts department, having their staff take over my duties. Like I said, the board of directors took a real liking to him. Since I no longer had any money, I couldn’t afford the house anymore. My husband moved into a loft downtown that he had purchased recently. It puzzled me how he had enough money to buy it. Even if he had somehow squirreled away some money, the loft was way above what his salary could afford. The house that we had shared returned to its former state of foreclosure. Poor house, it just couldn’t seem to find an owner that could keep it.

I guess I probably could have sued for alimony; maybe even monetary retribution for all the years I supported him while he got his degrees that meant so much to him. But being the strong, independent woman that I am…yeah, right…I think it was more the coward in me…I decided against it. I didn’t want anything from him. I would make out just fine on my own. I just needed to find a job and a place to live. No problem.

I returned to our old one bedroom apartment that had become available and had enough money left in my checking account, which fortunately had only my name on it, to afford the first month’s rent. Mr. Giannotti, the owner of the small complex trusted me enough to forfeit the usual required deposit. He was glad to have me back since I was an avid listener to all the stories that he liked to tell, sitting out on the front porch in the early evenings with him.

He is such a dear man but also a bit of an odd character with his walrus type moustache that matches the little patch of gray hair that is left on his head. His large goggle-like glasses cover half his face and though his wife kept him dressed well in crisp button down shirts and pressed pants, he completed the outfit with a pair of worn out sneakers, much to her chagrin. His wife Maria had only a few streaks of gray in her dark curly hair even though she was in her early seventies. Her personality matched the brightly colored dresses that she wore and she entered a room with such joyful energy that you couldn’t help but smile when you saw her. The Giannotti’s had owned and operated an Italian restaurant down the street for over thirty-five years until their son Guido took over when they retired a few years ago. It’s a charming restaurant with the checkered tablecloths and candles stuck into empty Chianti bottles that you always expect to find in an Italian restaurant. Jeremy and I used to eat there a lot when we first moved into the neighborhood. They always took pity on us those years when we were struggling with my one income to pay our rent and also cover the tuition fees and books that Jeremy needed for his studies. We didn’t want to have to pay off student loans once he finished so after tuitions came due, money was scarce and the Giannottis would give us extra helpings of spaghetti and garlic bread and complimentary glasses of wine and whatever leftovers they had in the kitchen that night in a large doggie bag.

That seems like a lifetime ago now. I guess you could say it was a lifetime ago because now I am starting a new life. Something I didn’t think that I’d be doing in my mid-thirties. We kept holding off on starting a family until Jeremy finally finished his studies and was settled into his teaching career. I suspect now looking at his perfect and tidy self that he never intended for us to have children. They would have been too messy and if there was one thing that Jeremy hated, it was anything that was messy. That’s why he chose to teach at the collegiate level, he couldn’t stand the thought of a young child wiping his runny nose anywhere near him. I must have been in a fog all these years that we were married not to see the kind of person that he really was. Well, the fog has cleared and I now see clearly the kind of man my husband really is. With a flick of a pen, I sign my name on various papers that the attorney’s assistant lays on the table in front of me and then rise to leave, never wanting to see this place or the man soon to be my ex ever again.

“No hard feelings?”

My hand paused on the door handle for a second as these words from Jeremy’s mouth reached my ears. I couldn’t think of a good retort at that moment and without acknowledging him, turned the handle and opened the door and left the room and my past behind.