She Started It All

By Nancy Ruggaber

Losing the love of your beloved and knowing it is your own fault does not mean life has ended. An ending means a new beginning follows. Sometimes a loss is just what you need to start a new and better course.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385020065

Nancy Ruggaber

Nancy is a wife, mother, grandmother (Nana), sister, and daughter. She has experienced great blessings as well as deep losses. She truly believes that “all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purposes” as written in Romans 8:28 in the New Testament (KJV).

Book preview

1

The rivulets of rain continually moving down the French doors did nothing to lift Suzy Grace’s spirits as she contemplated the big changes that would face her in the morning. Her car was packed tightly with everything she could retain of the life she had lived for the past five years. She was careful to ensure she would have a clear view through the side and back windows of the car as she stacked crates and boxes of her belongings into the back seat and trunk of her old yet reliable Subaru. Sadly, Subaru commercials suggested adventures and life well lived, rather than the sad journey now facing Suzy Grace.

She would miss sitting on the balcony, enjoying her morning coffee while viewing the mighty Merrimack River from her condo on River Front Drive. The rain weighed down the stems of her golden-yellow chrysanthemums in their bright-blue ceramic pots. The plants were no longer round cushions of color as the flower heads were pointing downward. They looked as beaten down as Suzy Grace felt.

She had always loved watching the seasons change, but the colors of fall had been her favorite. The leaves were not at peak color yet, and the heavy rain would likely make some leaves fall off early this year. They had had so much rain in the past week. The weather matched her mood; her eyes constantly filled with tears as she packed up boxes and filled bags to donate with items she could not take with her. Over and over, she had been cruelly faced with memories of happier times before the disasters that had recently befallen her.

Just over four months earlier, Suzy Grace had thought her life was nearly perfect. She and her husband were enjoying their newly decorated, empty-nest condo after both their children had graduated from college and secured gainful employment. She had a job she loved at the community college where she was a department head and taught four classes each semester. She had received, however, the horrible news in early May, last spring, that her contract had not been renewed—just a couple of weeks before she was to take the prepaid, long-planned walking tour in Scotland with her beloved. Throughout those ten days of trekking over rocky peaks, glens, and moors, alongside the magical little streams and pools on the Isle of Skye, and upon rocky shores, he had worked so hard to keep her spirits up, tried to engage her in positive thinking, and offered many assurances that she would find another position if that was truly what she wanted. He repeatedly asked her to consider retirement or a new career as she ruminated over the conversation she had had with the dean—when he’d informed her that the college had hired a young professor who had an MBA in addition to the BA and MA she herself had. The new department head had the advantage of youth, along with the MA and MBA, which were deemed most valuable to the college as it struggled to keep enrollment numbers up. The small community college she had loved competed for student admissions with the many other educational institutions within a fifty-mile radius.

Her face burned with shame. She knew she had ruined a shared dream that had been planned for years and should have been enjoyed despite the loss of her job. She could not stop thinking about how she had destroyed their long-anticipated trip to Scotland.

Upon returning home from that trip in early June, her mood, attitude, and behavior did not improve. Her husband, Joel, fought hard to counter her growing depression, to help her count blessings, look for a silver lining, and even seek counseling to work through this abrupt and serious life change. Instead, Suzy Grace’s depression became a vicious anger that caused her to lash out toward Joel when he offered words of encouragement. When angry words were not directed at him, she would withdraw, and under the guise of exercise, Suzy Grace took to the wood-chip paths along the river’s edge. The water’s movement offered some peace, moving, moving, steady as always. Sadly, when she returned home from her walks, the reality of the job loss greeted her before she even put her key into the door lock.

By mid-July, Joel was going to his job by 5:30 each morning so that she was still asleep when he left. He seemed to have more evening dinner meetings and even overnight travel, when in the past, he had arranged business travel as infrequently as possible by using videoconferencing. Suzy Grace noticed but did not care. When she did mention his increased travel, Joel said he had decided to take advantage of accumulating travel miles, as was common with almost everyone else in his position.

Their children were no longer living in Manchester. After college, both took positions in Boston, and neither was informed of their mother’s depression and anger following her job loss. Upon returning from Scotland, Suzy Grace and Joel had waxed eloquently to their children about their trekking trip and described it as a highlight of the year.

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Near the end of August, Joel came home quite early from his office. He could not recall when he and Suzy Grace had last actually talked. He could not remember their last meal together, as it seemed she had almost stopped eating. Suzy Grace had grumbled for years about her inability to lose her love handles post–middle age and menopause. In the past when she went on any sort of diet, she would often cut out bread, pasta, and most flour-based foods. Joel had teased her and told her he did not mind those love handles so she often gave in and ate the cinnamon doughnut he brought to her on occasional Saturday mornings. She just bought bigger T-shirts that covered the offending overhang of tummy. But by this point in August, Joel could not remember when he last saw Suzy Grace eat a bite—although he recalled she often carried around a water bottle or paper cup from a coffee shop. She had lost her love handles, but her eyes were sunken, and her skin was drawn and pale.

She seemed surprised to see him in the middle of the afternoon. The look of surprise in her eyes was the most emotion Joel had seen in too long to remember. She did not say a word when he walked by her to unload his backpack in his office. He then returned to the kitchen, where she was sitting with her laptop at the counter while looking out at the river. She did not seem to care enough to ask him why he was home so early. He really did not want to talk to her, but it was time. The situation had gone on long enough, and he had run out of energy and the will to continue the status quo.

I need to talk to you. I’m not here to have a discussion; I need to tell you something. I applied and was accepted for a transfer. I am moving and will be working in the Boston office. Joel stopped to take a breath then went on. But the thing is, I do not want you to move with me. You can keep this condo, but I will need half of the equity in order to buy a place for myself. So, you can either get a mortgage for half of the equity, or we can sell the condo and split the proceeds from the sale. It is up to you. You are free to do whatever it is you wish to do. Joel took several deep breaths before he continued, yet Suzy Grace found she was finding it hard to breathe.

Perhaps you would want to move to Boston since our kids are there, but I am not telling you where I am moving, as I have no interest in your living near me. This may sound very cold and cruel to you, but it is obvious that holding on to your misery is more important than our marriage. I basically have run out of energy to keep it going. There was never a time that I loved you because of your job, but I cannot live with you when your job loss is more important than anything else in your life. You can keep the furniture; any and all of our stuff is yours. Take it. I have been scanning photographs that are important to me, and I intend to start completely over in every possible way when I move. We have both worked hard, and instead of making two lawyers a bit wealthier, I suggest you and I be practical and just split the retirement funds fifty-fifty. I only want half of the equity of this condo as far as our house and furnishings. You keep your car, and I will keep mine. Neither is worth all that much, but thankfully, both are still reliable. Think about this before you make your decision, and see a lawyer if you like, but I will need to know your decision about the house within two weeks. I will be out in two weeks.

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Her heart flipped over in shock at his words. She felt a stab and searing pain go through her chest. The pain was quickly followed by the realization that this was exactly what she deserved. In that moment, she wanted—oh, so badly—for the dull sense of apathy that had plagued her for months to override the panic that had risen in her gut. She had lost Joel’s love. She did not know that it was possible for Joel to not love her. Oh, yes, it was very possible, and it was now the reality, and all the emotions that had been dormant for months were bubbling up and ready to overflow. Just in time, Suzy Grace took a deep breath and looked Joel straight in his eyes.

Instead of lashing out in anger, bursting into tears, or shrugging her shoulders in a show of apathy, she found the words to respond to him, I understand your feelings. Well, I now know how shock therapy works. Perhaps there is nothing like a shock to bring a person back from a stopped heart, scrambled emotions, and for me, from a self-imposed sentence of solitary confinement in a den of self-pity. Suzy Grace stopped, took another deep breath, and gave Joel a weak smile. You deserved so much better, Joel. I truly do understand. Go to Boston, and we can sell this condo as you suggested. I don’t need a lawyer. I think we can find the appropriate documentation for us to file on our own. I am going to offer my apologies to you in the form of granting you the peace you have requested. But please take any of the furniture you want. Otherwise, I suggest we just sell it with the condo and start over. I mean, I know you want to start over without me. I will start over as well but without you. She gave him one more sad, weak smile and left the room to sob quietly on her own.

Neither of them could say the word divorce. It was not necessary to use the word as they had not really been husband and wife for what felt like a long time, and divorce was merely a label to be stamped on the package that was already boxed, taped up, and ready to be delivered.

2

Joel closed and locked the heavy oak door behind him as he entered his Back Bay loft. The walls were rustic original brick, except for the small, efficient bathroom that had a ridiculously complicated shower. It took him a week to find the shower setting that did not feel like a downpour or power-washing. The floors in the loft were gorgeous old planks of a deep burnt umber, highly varnished with a shiny and protective coating. He felt ridiculous for thinking about the phrase burnt umber, as he would have described the color as brown in years past.

The truth was, the entire situation was ridiculous. He was nearing retirement age and living in an urban loft apartment with neighbors who were primarily in their thirties and just beginning their career journeys. He slept on an amazingly comfortable Murphy bed that did not require being made each day before he lifted it into its upright position on the wall every morning; in the closed position, it was replaced with an enormous trendy canvas-type poster of the Boston skyline. On the ground floor level of the condo development were a large indoor swimming pool, hot tub, and steam room, as well as a fully equipped gym. He had used each of those amenities once.

There was a parking garage that cost over $300 per month to park one’s car, which he no longer needed as he had sold his twelve-year-old sedan. Instead, he bought an urban bicycle with the accoutrements of stylish and safe riding, and these were stored in a well-organized bicycle garage. Above the brackets where he hung the bicycle was a small locker where he stored his helmet. He found that he rode his bicycle less than once a week, and when he did venture into the bike garage, he noticed most bicycles were hung in their places. Apparently, he was not the only resident who believed he would ride around the city for exercise and easy transportation. He did ride to visit his children—once. He walked to his office most days. Some days, he worked from his desk at home and looked out over the city life below while missing the trees and the flow of the Merrimack River at the condo he had shared with Suzy Grace.

As he had left all the furniture and furnishings behind in their New Hampshire condo, he rented a completely furnished loft. The only exceptions were that he bought new sheets, pillows, and towels, in addition to buying a thick mattress topper that put three inches between him and the previous tenant. There was a good deal of Lysol spraying when he moved into the loft. Without his germophobe wife to prepare their living quarters, he trusted the commercial that claimed that Lysol would kill 99.9 percent of all germs.

Joel had stopped at DeLuca’s Market and picked up a sandwich and a craft beer for dinner. He pulled out a barstool, sat his weary body down, and pulled himself up to the counter before opening the sandwich bag. The beer was not very interesting to him, now that he was home, so he scooted back out from the counter, took the beer to the refrigerator, and pulled out a Diet Coke in its place. The fizzy swoosh noise the can made when he opened the Coke made him think of Suzy Grace. She had often—too often—said that she was like one of Pavlov’s dogs and would salivate at the sound of a soda can being opened. She frequently would have to stop whatever she was doing and get a soda for herself if someone else opened a can within earshot. He missed that Suzy Grace.

He refused to think about the woman she had become since May of the past spring. She had lost her job but acted as though she had been given a terminal diagnosis. She refused to understand that ageism existed, and she was a victim of it, along with many, many other workers in their fifties and sixties. Worse was her refusal to talk to him, to grieve, to seek counseling to deal with loss, and to move toward counting blessings, which she had firmly believed in throughout their lives. How many times did she say to him and others that counting blessings was an antidote to depression?

The sandwich was tasteless, and the soda was anything but refreshing. He discarded both and made a large mug of microwave hot chocolate with two packages of the mix. The aroma alone was comforting, and after he finished the mug, he was both full and feeling better.

Joel had not told Suzy Grace the location of his apartment, although she knew he was living and working in Boston. They were not yet divorced because they both had left the state of New Hampshire and did not have residency in any state, so the marriage had to continue until six months had passed. He was surprised that she had made the decision to move as well and that she did not want to keep many of their household belongings. Gone were the mugs they collected on their travels. The seasonal decorations had been offered to their children, who only picked out a few items to keep. Almost everything else went to the Salvation Army. Much of the furniture was purchased by the new owners of their river-view condo. He and Suzy Grace had purchased the furniture to fit perfectly in the space and style of their Manchester, New Hampshire, home. The sale of their condo was quick; another empty-nest couple, who were thrilled to have a turn-key beginning to their child-free life.

He had been relieved when he learned that Suzy Grace had kept their set of dishes she had loved and their cookware, as those were either irreplaceable or extremely costly to replace. He had not wanted any of it, but he had wanted her to care about something, and it was a relief that she wanted some part of their life together. He did think it strange that she kept their linens, but she always said that worn sheets felt better than new ones. He wished he did not remember how her hair smelled when she finally got into bed at night. He unwillingly thought of how he usually waited half an hour for her as she went through her routine of face washing, teeth flossing and brushing, and then finally doing something with her heels that required wearing socks to bed. At the beginning of their marriage, she would put her cold feet on him to get warm or just get his goat. With a shake of his head, he shook off the trip down memory lane and picked up the television remote.

It was Friday night, and he was home. Just a few doors down the hall, people were having cocktails, expensive beers, wine, and tiny, fancy food. He was tired of seeing baby carrots and trays of sad-looking vegetables. He had yet to use one of the community gas grills on the property. He had imagined that he would grill a burger, steak, or chicken breast and have that with a salad every night, thus getting all food groups gathered on his plate without having to think long and hard about dinner. He had learned, however, that if he ordered a pizza with prosciutto and some greens, he could eat from four out of the five food groups in one bite. Although quite good, he still preferred a pepperoni pizza on those occasions he deemed as pizza nights.

Suzy Grace loved pizza nights—once again, he forced those thoughts out of his head and realized that he was holding the remote but had not yet chosen something to watch on TV.

When he had walked home from work that day, he had noticed the leaves were brilliant now that it was mid-October. Joel needed to do something. He could not stay in this loft apartment or in the city all weekend. He called his children, but both had weekends filled with activity. He was careful not to let them know that he was bereft. His thoughts turned to October of the previous year. He thought of Manchester, New Hampshire, and a plan formed in his mind. He would get up early and take the train to Manchester-by-the-Sea, stroll through the little town, walk on Singing Beach, gaze out at