Wild Orchids – Preview Chapters 1 & 2
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Chapter One | Shopping Therapy
Cali floats into my condo like the effervescent butterfly that she is and stands before me sporting a hot pink boucle miniskirt with a matching cropped blazer. Her heels are at least five inches high and the points on the toe boxes are so sharp she could kill cockroaches in the corners of the room. If I had cockroaches, that is. She takes one look at me and huffs.
“What the hell is the matter with you? It’s like,” she checks her gold Cartier watch and reports, “Like almost two o’clock in the afternoon. Why are you still in PJs?”
“I’m depressed,” I mumble, curling my blanket up tighter to my chest on the couch.
“No, honey. You’re not depressed. You’re bummed, big difference. Get up and get dressed. I’m taking you out for a late lunch. Or early dinner. Whatever,” she declares while gesticulating with her hands on either side of her head.
“I’m not up to it, Cali. Can’t you just let me wallow for a day?”
Cali parks herself next to me on the couch, shifts the blanket away from around my feet and smacks my heels with her hands so I’ll move them. “Babe, this is not like you. I know you’re feeling weird about being divorced, but shit happens to the best of us. I’ve been through this twice. It sucks ass, but you need to find your vibe and move on.”
I sit up straighter on the couch with my back against the armrest. I weave the blanket edge between my fingers as I try to articulate how I’m truly feeling. “Did I let go of the only man I’ve ever loved for my own selfish needs?” I look over to Cali, and she expresses a loud sigh, then nods.
“Yes.” She pulls my feet up over the top of her lap, then rubs my toes between her fingers to massage them. “But hear me out. Wants are selfish. Needs aren’t. Needs have to be met. That’s why you two were quietly quitting your marriage for the last five years.”
She’s right. How did I not see this until now?
“What were your options? Cheat on him to get what you need, or divorce and try to find someone else to fulfill you? You did the right thing, Liv.”
Cali’s massaging of my toes got firmer and firmer until I had to retreat them from her death grip and sharp fingernails. She meant well, but holy hell, I thought she was going to break a few of my toes off. I nod again and resign to her common-sense rant being exactly what I needed to hear. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll get in the shower. Where do you want to eat?”
“Somewhere close. My fucking feet are killing me in these shoes.” I smile and laugh at her. She’ll wear anything that makes her look like she stepped off the pages of Vogue magazine, even if it means sacrificing a few toes…like she did mine.
The following morning’s sun nearly blinded me through my open deck doors as it popped out past the adjacent condo tower. It would be a shame to draw the curtains when sunlight is so welcome in a city renowned for its rain. And the sun felt cathartic.
I close my eyes, standing before the sliding doors, basking in the warmth, but the ringing of my cell phone abruptly interrupts my contentment. Brushing my hair away from my eyes, I reluctantly attend to the incessant ringing sound coming from my kitchen.
“Hello.”
“Liv Beckinsale? This is Alyssa from Clarkson, Davis, and Wright.”
“Hi, Alyssa.”
“I’m calling to let you know your divorce is finalized,” Alyssa says in her typical bright, youthful tone.
I pause briefly, wondering whether sharing this information with such a happy tone in her voice wasn’t something the young legal assistant should reconsider. It’s nice that she has such a pleasant phone manner, but she couldn’t possibly know if this was happy or sad news being shared. In the grand scheme of things, though, I had resigned myself to admitting that it was good news. Cali helped me understand that. I’m the one who instigated the divorce proceedings, and thus I should be happy to hear the process is complete.
“Thank you for letting me know, Alyssa. Have a nice day.” As I end the call, a hint of sadness envelops me again. I chide myself for letting my lingering doubts seep in every time I think of Carter. You never imagine a marriage you thought would last a lifetime ends with a phone call from a stranger. When we say our I do’s, we don’t mean just for now. We are hopeful. Blissfully hopeful that the person we are marrying is the one. But times had changed for us over twenty years. And as of today, Carter Beckinsale is no longer my husband.
I put the kettle on the stovetop and sort through the cupboard next to the stove to decide which flavour of tea I desire. And while the water boils, I can make my daily check-in phone call with Cali. Tucking my cellphone between my chin and my right shoulder, I grab a coffee mug and wait for the high-pitched sound of the kettle whistle.
Cali has been my true soulmate since we met in high school. She moved here from California with her family in ninth grade, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Her name is Catalina, but we all called her Cali from day one. “Cali?”
“Yes, Liv, good morning… You’re not bummed again, are you?”
“No. I got a call from my lawyer’s office. The divorce is final.”
“Ooh – that’s awesome!” Cali says. “The hard part is over and the great beyond beckons you.”
“Yes, well, I have just one question before I enter the great beyond,” I say, now feeling slightly confused.
“What’s that, Liv?”
“Hold on a second. The kettle is boiling, and I can’t hear you over the whistling.” I pull the kettle off the stove and turn the burner dial to the off position. “Okay. So, now that I’m no longer Mrs. Liv Beckinsale, who the hell am I?”
Cali laughs harder at my question than she probably should have but having been in my shoes a year earlier when she divorced husband number two, she likely understood my minor moment of confusion.
“Well, my artistic side wants to tell you that you can be whomever you want to be, but I don’t think that actually answers your question.”
“No, it most certainly does not. You’re no help there, buddy,” I reply.
“Sorry, I was trying to lighten your mood. But in case you’ve forgotten, your maiden name was Nelson, so I’m guessing your new title, same as your old title, is Ms. Liv Nelson,” Cali confirms. “Well, if you officially change it back, that is.”
“I guess you’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?”
In her cheeky smug undertone she says, “You always knew I was the smarter one, so I won’t tease you about it. I got drunk the first day of being a single woman again. I highly recommend it.”
“That’s it? That is your sage advice for me? Get drunk? I think I need a new best friend.”
“Well, the other option is shopping therapy, but in all honesty, two bottles of wine are cheaper than a bunch of slutty new clothes you’ll regret buying four hours after you bring them home.”
“Okay, wine it is,” I say and sigh. “Am I supposed to drink it all by myself or are you going to join me?” I ask while I tend to the three beautiful Trichophilia orchids in the centre of my kitchen table.
“Oh, I’ll be there, Hun. I’ll even buy the wine and bring Chinese food!”
“You’re the best,” I say, smiling to myself. “I take back the comment about needing a new best friend.”
“All is forgiven. I’ll see you about five-thirty.”
I end our call and look out the kitchen window of my fourteenth-floor downtown condo. The sun is still shining, and despite Cali’s negative take on shopping therapy, I am very much up for buying some new clothes – slutty or otherwise.
Since our daughter Grace has recently graduated from high school and has taken on a position in Carter’s landscape supply company as his secretary, she is now well on her way into the real world. Our divorce would be easier for her to understand and deal with after graduation. Grace has always been close to Carter, so I don’t need to worry about her if I spend extended time away. I need to set some time aside to talk with Grace so I can understand how our divorce has affected her. This can’t have been easy for her either.
I take a deep breath as I reaffirm my decision in my head and my heart. I wasn’t his wife for so long that I started to refer to him as my roommate, not my husband, and most certainly not my lover. That should have been my first red flag.
With three fully operational branches of Carter Landscape Supplies in full swing, and Carter’s dad retired, Carter is busier than a dung beetle in a pigsty. Carter lives and breathes his oversight of a large-scale operation. For many years, it has been his dream to expand beyond what he and his father built. I begrudge his success only because it impacted our relationship, yet in all fairness, I could have tried harder to make him see how his absence was affecting me.
While trying to reassure myself as I trace my fingertips gently over my cheeks, analyzing my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I say, “Forty isn’t old anymore.” My ‘talk out loud to myself’ statement was important. I need to stay positive, now more than ever.
I pull myself together, shower, get dressed and apply my makeup, then I sit down at the kitchen table to review my finances with another cup of tea and a box of my favourite chocolates within arm’s reach. With my alimony payments from Carter, my half share of the landscape company in a payout, and the agreement to take over sole ownership of the lake house instead of a share of our downtown penthouse, I’ll be comfortable financially. Having worked with Carter for twelve years as his stock agent and sales manager, I’m confident in my ability to find work elsewhere if unemployment bores me. But that kind of work isn’t what interests me. In my heart, I’m an artist. Although painting watercolours is for pleasure rather than a business endeavour, the thought of one of my paintings hanging in someone else’s home appeals to my ego. “Dreams, dreams, and more dreams,” I mutter.
For now, I’ll use some of my money to enjoy a few holidays to places I’d always wanted to see. I’ll take that time away to review the long-term plans for my new future. I’m free now, but once I speak these words aloud to myself, I become nervous about what exactly “free” means to me.
Cali arrives just slightly later than I had expected, but she was rarely on time. She likes to say she invented the phrase “fashionably late” when given the gears over her lack of punctuality. Her hands were full of bags of Chinese food and two bottles of red wine, as promised, when she buzzed my suite from the main entrance.
I admire Cali. She still works in real estate, even though her ex-husband, Garret’s settlement with her after their lengthy and bitter divorce was a handsome sum. She loves finding the perfect property for people and is damned good at it. In contrast, my career was given to me – sales and purchasing – not my true calling.
“So, how the hell are you?” Cali asks with sincere concern while unloading her bags onto the kitchen table next to the orchids and leaning into my face to peck on my cheek.
“I’m fine, Cali. Really, I’m fine.”
“And what about this condo?” Cali asks. Do you plan to stay here forever or find something else down the road?”
I open one of Cali’s bottles of wine and pull out two wine glasses from the glass cabinet. “Carter and I are joint owners on this property. We bought it for our out-of-town guests to use—and as an investment. When I decide to sell, we’ll split the profits. As for our other assets, we agreed that he’d sign over the lake house to me instead of me taking money for half the value of the penthouse, which is perfect because I was the only one who ever went there.” I pour the red wine into the glasses and hand one to Cali. “And I plan on spending my summers there every year to relax and paint and drink copious amounts of wine on the dock. Speaking of the lake house, it’s been too long since you joined me up there.”
“I know, Liv. I would love to take next summer off and bum around with you up in lake country. I haven’t been on a good wine tour in ages.” She sips her wine and then looks through her purse to find her cellphone. “I’m going to put a note in my calendar now to remind me.”
I lean my hip against the edge of the countertop. “Perfect. I’m going to the lake for the last two weeks of August next summer to decide how I want to redecorate and then close it down for the fall and winter. This will give me time to devise my makeover plans for the spring.” I move to the kitchen table to sit next to Cali and gaze out the window, appreciating the intermittent glow of the late afternoon sun between wafts of clouds reflecting on the other downtown buildings.
I pose a question I’ve had in the back of my mind for a few days now. “I wanted to talk to you about going on vacation with me, Cali. Not just the lake house. My first trip is going to be to Tahiti. For years, I’ve yearned to stay in one of those over-water bungalows, and now nothing is holding me back. I’m booking the trip this week, and hopefully by the first week of September, I’ll be on a flight there for a two-week getaway.” I hold the last of my glass of wine up in the air to decide if I want a refill before we unwrap dinner.
“Seriously? Tahiti? How exotic!” Cali says. “I’m totally in. Find out what dates are available and let me know. I just need to give the office a week’s notice. There are enough crew on the team to take over for anything I have in the works. This is going to be amazing, Liv,” she says, punctuating the word amazing in a sing-song way. She raises her wine glass to clink hers with mine.
“Yay! I’m so excited. Best divorce present ever!” I say.
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