Mrs. Perfect

“That’s the last thing on my mind. I love the girls. I care about you. But for now, I have to focus on getting my life back on track. I’ve had a hard year, Taylor. Things weren’t great at McKee before I quit, and I just want to start feeling better about myself again.”

I nod. I can understand that. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

I find it hard to just stand by and watch, though. “Do you want some coffee or a cup of tea? I can make you a cup of green tea. It’s really good for you—”

“Taylor.” His voice is sharp, and it silences me. “I’m fine.”

I nod, but I don’t leave and I don’t speak again as Nathan grabs more shirts and slacks and sweaters.

I search my heart for the right thing, the perfect thing, to say, but nothing comes to mind. In my heart I know I have to be the one to fix this, but I don’t yet know how. Instead, I watch as he selects a jacket. It’s getting colder in Omaha. He’ll need a heavy coat for the Nebraska winter.

I’m numb the first few days Nathan is gone. I don’t sleep well. I have a hard time falling asleep, and then I wake up in the middle of the night to either eat or cry or do both.

I want to sleep, though. When I sleep, I forget. But then in the morning when I wake up, it all hits me again. Nathan’s gone. We’re in serious financial trouble. We might even get divorced.

Waking this morning, I roll over in bed and extend my arm where Nathan should be and grab air, amazed all over again at the empty space. He’s been gone eight days now. He’s talked to the girls daily, but only twice to me, and one of those times I think it was a mistake. I think he’d meant to dial Jemma’s cell phone and dialed mine by accident.

For sixteen years, Nathan’s been not just my lover, but my best friend. I’ve talked to him about everything, shared all the little details along with the big things, and now overnight he’s gone.

I roll over onto my back, grab the pillow that would be his, and hug it to my chest.

What if he doesn’t want to get back together?

Another thought hits me.

What if, like Peter Wellsley, Nathan wants the kids?

Tortured by the thought, I climb out of bed and go to the adjoining office with the huge arched window that overlooks the lake and dock and beautiful estates of Hunts Point.

The desktop computer is still on, and I click on Outlook and check my e-mail in case Nathan’s written. He has.

I sit in front of the computer to read the e-mail.

I need you to gather up all the bills and mail and send to me here. They won’t get paid just sitting there.

Give the girls my love. Hope everyone’s doing well.

I close my eyes and press my forehead to my hand.

Nathan’s got to come home. Or we have to go there. We have to be together.

I type a quick response before I can have second thoughts.

N, I can get a sitter for the weekend. Why don’t I bring the mail myself? T

I push send before going to wake the girls.

While the girls brush their teeth after breakfast, I check my Outlook again. Nathan’s answered me.

I nervously click to open his e-mail.

Taylor, I don’t have the time and we don’t have the money. Just put it in Express Mail. It’ll be here tomorrow.

I read and reread the e-mail. I read it until my heart feels like it’s on fire.

I go through the day on autopilot. I show up at school, woodenly fulfill my obligations, send out e-mails to the various committees, and read the e-mail reminding me that the next book club meeting is coming up. I haven’t even looked at the book since that afternoon when I sat outside on the back lawn, watching Tori and Allison play.

I’m looking for the book when I remember Nathan’s request to overnight the bills to him. Damn. How could I forget? Glancing at my watch, I see it’s nearly five. Damn it again. Even if I rush to the post office now, the bills won’t reach him for two days, as I’ve missed the three o’clock cutoff for Express Mail.

I go downstairs to Nathan’s office and turn to his wood filing system on his desk. It’s overflowing with bills. I pull them off the top and then reach into the middle shelf. There are more there. And more on the bottom. Envelopes opened and unopened, stacks and stacks with some dating back three months or more.

No wonder Nathan’s depressed. He’s been facing this mountain of bills for years.

Suddenly I need to know what we’re dealing with. He might be the bill payer and the wage earner, but it’s time I got informed about our finances, too.

Picking up an envelope, I wonder where to begin. Or how one should begin. I haven’t paid bills for nearly thirteen years, since before Nathan and I were married, as he took over all finances the summer we were engaged. He’d wanted me to have great credit, not merely good credit, and he’d been appalled by my lackadaisical manner of paying bills, a system he considered hit or miss.

Nathan was the first person who made me realize that late was still terrible when it came to your credit score. Late meant a bad credit score, and it was better to make smaller but more frequent payments than my huge payments every now and then.

I don’t know why I didn’t understand the system before, but Nathan made it all clear. Nathan always made it clear. That was one of the things I loved most about him.

He took the time to explain things to me, filling those gaps in my knowledge base, and trust me, there were a lot of gaps. When you’re a girl growing up in a dysfunctional family, you’re far better at cleaning up others’ messes than your own.

Nathan.

I close my eyes, hold my breath, try to keep the crazy emotions in.

I miss him. I really wish he’d let

me come see him.

Reluctantly, I turn my attention back to the pile of bills, deciding I’ll start by organizing them. I’ll open all and then sort them by company, then due date, and then maybe finally I can see where things stand.

An hour later I’ve finished opening, stacking, and adding up what’s owed, and I think I’ve added wrong, so I clear the calculator and start over adding again.

Mortgage payment: $5,600, times three (How can we have not paid our mortgage in three months?)

Lexus SUV car payment: $435, times three

Nathan’s Porsche payment: $617, times four

Boat payments: $332—many, many times (six months late!?!?)

Country club golf membership and dues: $525 per month, times four

Bellevue Club membership, expenses, and dues: $675, times three

Landscape/gardening: $395, times three

Cell phone: $288, times two

House phone: $148, times two

DirecTV: $102, times three

Puget Sound Energy: $500, times three

Water: $600, times two

Nordstrom’s: $1,400 minimum payment, times three

American Express Platinum card: $17,400 due

Alaska Airlines Signature credit card: $6,000 minimum payment

Discover Card: $3,300 due

American Airlines Citibank credit card: $2,800 due

Hawaiian Airlines Visa credit card: $1,900 due

Neiman Marcus credit card: $1,450 due

Macy’s credit card: $800 due

Starbucks credit card: $375 due

Victoria’s Secret credit card: $240 due

Eddie Bauer credit card (who knew? must be Nathan’s . . .): $88 due

And there are more, miscellaneous bills from school, social obligations, medical, kids’ orthodontics.

The rough total of what we owe—right now, this month, this moment—is $70,000. Or to be more precise, $70,756.

And even if we should miraculously pay that, four weeks from now we’ll owe another $26,817. In fact, until we get rid of our credit debt, we’re going to owe $26,000 every month, which means we need an income of over $300,000 this year just to meet our expenses . . . and right now we’re not including food, new clothes, hair, travel, or entertainment.