Cassie and Garrett - Part 2

By Liz Zuercher

            After that first real date, Garrett and I slipped seamlessly into a committed relationship. We spent almost all our spare time together, as much as a couple could when one had weekends off like a normal person and the other was off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  He traveled all around the world for his job, so I ended up still having lots of time for myself.  I liked that.  I didn’t feel claustrophobic in a relationship like this.  The other bonus of dating Garrett was getting to know his mother.  She was indeed, as he’d said the first day I met her, a lovable piece of work, emphasis on the lovable part.

            When Garrett traveled, Barbara and I spent time together, filling my days off with more activity and fun than I’d ever had before.  She didn’t smother me, which easily could have been the case.  Instead, she woke me up to a life outside of work.  She expanded my horizons, taking me to art galleries and museums, as well as plays and movies.  We went shopping at out of the way boutiques with funky clothes that she knew how to put together in a way that made them look more stylish than foolish.  We walked on the beach at low tide looking for sea glass.  We lunched at little hole-in-the-wall restaurants she called hidden treasures.  We laughed and talked and laughed and talked some more.  If you didn’t know better, you’d think we were mother and daughter.

            In fact, I came to feel closer to Barbara than I’d ever felt to my own mother.  I admired Barbara, because she did what my mother was never able or willing to do: she got herself out of an unhealthy relationship with an alcoholic.  That took spunk my mother would never have.  Barbara became a confidant, a friend, a sounding board for all my aggravations, large and small.  The only thing I couldn’t talk to Barbara about was Garrett, and that was the very thing I needed advice on most.

            Just once I’d like to find a man who wasn’t fatally flawed or boring.  Garrett ended up being both.  The fatal flaw was that he was an alcoholic like his dad and mine.  I was afraid of taking that on, even though he’d gone through rehab and had been sober for ten years.  That was so commendable.  I felt small for still being wary of him.  But Garrett had said himself, it was day by day.  Like with injured athletes – “He’s day-to-day,” the coach says when pressed by the media to comment on the condition of his star player.  Garrett was day-to-day for me.  Deep down, I didn’t feel completely sure of him.

            What was worse, I felt like a heartless chump to doubt him.  I really did care about him.  I felt sad when he drove off after a date.  I felt lonely when he traveled for his job.  But was that enough to base a lifetime on?  What about the times we were together?        Ah, there was the other shoe.  Garrett was comfortable.  He was kind and considerate and he loved me.  He said so over and over.  I hadn’t been able to say those words yet.  Maybe I loved him, too, but if I did, it was a quiet sort of love.  I didn’t feel the physical rush I had when I looked into Billy’s eyes or heard Patrick’s rich voice.  Maybe, though, that was a good thing.  Maybe those feelings were for teenagers and early twenties girls.  I was in my late thirties.  I was grown up now.  Maybe grownups didn’t get the tingles up their spines.  If that’s what I was waiting for with Garrett, I knew I’d be waiting a long time.

            Still, he was so solid.  Or was he?  If we were married, would he stop being solid?  Would he let down his defenses against alcohol once I let down mine? When push came to shove, what I finally realized was that I might love Garrett’s mother more than I loved him.

* * * * *

            On our one-year-since-we-met anniversary, Garrett took me to dinner at a restaurant overlooking the ocean to celebrate.  He knew I loved watching the sunsets and timed the reservations so we’d get the whole sunset experience.  Just as the most glorious colors filled the sky, Garrett dropped to one knee, his back to the sunset, and produced a ring.

            “Cassie, I love you,” he said, his face beaming, his voice full and confident.  “Will you marry me?”

            I was caught completely off guard.  Garrett had hinted at marriage before, but we hadn’t really discussed it.  I was so flustered I didn’t know what to say.  I looked at his expectant face, his eyes filled with love, his dark brown hair rustling slightly in the ocean breeze.  Then terror gripped me when I realized I didn’t want to be his wife.  How could I tell him that in front of a restaurant full of onlookers waiting for my reply, anxious to share our joyous moment?

            I was angry with him for putting me in that position.  At the same time I admired his courage to lay himself on the line so publicly.  It was so out of character for him that it underscored for me how much he must love me to risk his feelings like that.  He was such a good man, I thought.  He would take care of me and we could have babies together, something I wanted more than anything else.  I might never have another chance at this, I thought.

            I don’t know how long I left him there on his knee waiting for my answer.  It seemed like my inner battle went on for hours. I felt a stoppage of time, like everyone there was holding their collective breath, waiting for my answer. Finally, the restaurant crowd got restless.  Someone started a slow clap and everyone joined in.

            “What’ll it be, honey?” a man’s voice in the distance cried out.  

            What it came down to was the children we could have – that and the fact that Barbara would become my mother if I married Garrett.

            “Yes,” I said, feeling resignation and regret the moment I said it.

            The crowd cheered as Garrett placed a one carat solitaire diamond on my finger and gave me a long kiss.  As we hugged after the kiss, I watched the last of the color leave the sky over Garrett’s shoulder.  What had I done?

* * * * *

           

            The cold white tile of the restaurant bathroom reflected the bright ceiling lights, blinding me briefly as I dried my hands in the hot air dryer.  I watched the folds of skin on my hands ripple like ocean waves, as I moved my hands back and forth under the contraption.  My new engagement ring rode with my left hand, glinting at me as my hands dried.

            Everything in the bathroom was automatic.  The light went on automatically when you entered.  The toilet flushed all by itself. A big dab of foamy soap poofed out into your hand and the water flowed into the trough-like sink when you put your hand in front of the sensors.  You didn’t have to think about any part of it except placing your hands in the right place.  Unfortunately, that left all too much time for me to stare into the mirror at my face, which was twisted into a state of shock.

            The diamond on my finger gleamed brightly and caught my eye no matter where I looked.  If I truly loved Garrett, this would be a glorious surreal moment, here in a restaurant bathroom looking at my brand new engagement ring.  Instead, it was just plain surreal, as I tried to figure out how I was going to get out of this engagement.  Fifteen minutes in and I wanted out.  But I couldn’t do it here. It would have to wait until we were alone.

            The blower finished drying my hands and I removed them from under it.  There were no more automatic steps to take in the bathroom, so I took a deep breath and went back to the table with the ocean view and my new fiance.  If only there was a machine to undo this engagement for me.

* * * * *

            Barbara was first to be told and she, of course, was delighted.  Her warmth and joy made me think marrying Garrett would be okay after all.  But once I was alone in my own home the next day, I put the ring in its box on the dresser and ignored it.  I didn’t call Sarah and tell her the news. I didn’t call Gail or Trish or Melinda.  I didn’t tell anyone.

            It was a Tuesday morning, so thankfully I didn’t have to go to work and be excited in front of anyone.  I could hole up for the next two days and mull this all over, get used to the idea of being engaged.

            All the years of wanting someone in my life, of wanting a family, came rushing up at me.  Here it was, what I’d wished for, and I didn’t want it.  Yes, I wanted the family.  I longed for the family.  But I didn’t long for Garrett.  Was that fair to him?

            I was deep into these thoughts when he called.

            “Is this my future wife?” he said with a happy lilt in his voice I’d never heard before.  I was lured in by that.  It suddenly sounded good to me.  Why was I fighting it?

            “Yes,” I said to him for the second time in twenty-four hours, and I felt a little closer to really meaning it.

            We talked for a while until Garrett had to get back to work.

            “Are you wearing your ring?” he asked before hanging up.

            I looked down at my bare finger and lied to him again.

            “Yes,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”

            “Just like you,” he said.

            When he hung up I crawled into bed and curled into the fetal position.  Why couldn’t I be happy with him? For Barbara.  For the babies.

            I closed my eyes and envisioned the three children Garrett and I would have.  They would be loved unconditionally by both of us.  And spoiled rotten by Barbara.  We would have a comfortable home and a good solid life.  That was something wasn’t it?  It was more than I grew up with, and that for me at that moment was reason enough.  I deserved that.

            I got out of bed and walked over to the dresser, where the ring box sat.  I picked it up, enclosed it with both my hands and held it for a moment before opening it up.  I took the ring from its perch and slipped it on my finger.

* * * * *

            Once I left the safety of my condo wearing the ring, all bets were off.  I was swept along on the wave of enthusiasm everyone felt for my engagement.  Sarah, especially, was ecstatic.  Melinda Casey was beside herself to think she had finally been the one to find me a husband.  I began to wonder if all my friends, co-workers and buyers had thought I was a lost cause, a sad, unmarried, childless woman who put on a brave happy face.  Did they whisper behind my back about poor Cassie?  Now were they saying how relieved they were Cassie had a man?  How Cassie wouldn’t be so alone anymore?  My hackles went up when I imagined people feeling sorry for me, and it bugged me even more that they’d think only a man would be a cure-all for my sad life.  How did they know I wasn’t happy just the way I was, before Garrett?

            I hedged on setting a wedding date.  I had a boatload of excuses:  I’d just opened a new neighborhood and couldn’t take time off until it was nearly finished; I couldn’t do it around the holidays, because of year-end closings;  I couldn’t do it in the spring, because I had phase releases;  June wouldn’t do, because everyone would be on vacation.  If anything could set Garrett drinking again, it was my indecision.  But he was a prince, so understanding and patient.  I didn’t deserve him.

            Barbara was eager to help me plan the wedding, and she wanted to pay for everything.  I wasn’t comfortable with that, especially since I was uncomfortable with the whole idea of getting married.  In the back of my head I held onto the niggling idea that I wasn’t going to go through with it.  I’d hate it if Barbara had spent a lot of money to put on a wedding and I didn’t show up.  So I put her off.  I was happy with a long engagement, I said.  Don’t wait too long, she replied.

            After six months of engagement and no set wedding date, Garrett finally lost his patience.  We were at his place curled up on the sofa together watching an “ER” episode where a whole wedding party ended up in the hospital.

            “Why don’t we have a date set yet?” Garrett said, a tinge of pain in his voice.  He held my left hand in his and stroked the solitaire diamond with his thumb.

            I started in on all my excuses, but he stopped me.

            “No,” he said.  “None of that should matter.  What’s the real reason?”

            I couldn’t look at him.  A giant lump sat in my throat and I couldn’t talk around it.

            “I don’t know,” I said in a whisper.

            “Don’t you want to get married?” he asked, his voice unsteady, serious.

            My eyes welled up.  Here it was, my opportunity to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t quite muster the words.

            “I don’t know,” I said again, even softer than before.

            “Don’t you love me?” he asked, choking back his own tears.

            That was the question, wasn’t it?  The heart of the matter.  I did love him, I really did, but not enough to commit my whole life to him.  And I didn’t want to give up my freedom, my independence.  Even for children.

            “I don’t know,” I said with great sadness.

* * * * *

            We talked and talked that night, all my doubts spilling out into the open.  The more I talked, the more Garrett withdrew into himself.  He didn’t get angry.  I could have coped with angry.  Instead he became sullen, and I saw a glimpse of the kind of drunk he would be, if he still drank.  All I could think of was what a bad person I was to bring this pain to him.  It wasn’t fair to him, this marriage.  I couldn’t be the wife he needed, and he couldn’t be the husband I wanted.  I certainly didn’t want to bring children into a relationship like that.

            When we were talked out, we sat there looking at each other, neither one able to take the next inevitable step.  Finally, Garrett spoke.

            “What now?” he said, the slightest glimmer of hope in his eyes.

            “I can’t do this to you,” I said, slipping the ring off my finger and placing it gently on the glass coffee table in front of us.  It sat there, light still reflecting off its facets as if it were alive.  “You deserve better than what I can give you.”

            His eyes searched mine.

            “Couldn’t we just think about it for a while before we make a decision?” he said, picking up the ring and holding it out to me.  “I’ll be in Dubai for a month.  We could leave things as they are and see how we feel when I get back.  Couldn’t we?”

            I almost reached for the ring, but I stopped myself.  I couldn’t make the promise the ring signified.  I shook my head sadly.

            “I’m so sorry,” I managed to say before gathering my things and bolting for the door.

            Outside, I sat in my car and cried for a good fifteen minutes before I finally turned the key in the ignition and drove to my empty home.

* * * * *

            Sarah tried to talk me out of it.  Melinda Casey called to plead Garrett’s case.  They didn’t sway me.  The only one who came close to changing my mind was Barbara, who called in tears to beg me to reconsider.  I couldn’t tell her I regretted losing her more than her son, so I only told her one side of it.  I told her I wasn’t good enough for Garrett, that I didn’t share the same kind of love for him that he had for me.  I told her he should have someone who could love him that way.  Only when Barbara gave up trying to convince me to stay did I feel like I could put it behind me and move on.  I wasn’t sure there would be anything to move on to.  I wasn’t sure I’d ever find a man to love the way Garrett loved me, but I knew I couldn’t live the lie of marrying someone I wasn’t crazy about.