It Is Me ... Again ... After The End
A Fresh Start After DivorceBy Mayra S. MuttBalboa Press
Copyright © 2012 Mayra S. Mutt
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4525-3868-6Chapter One
Looking back, I realize that leaving Puerto Rico for the United States and beginning a new life was frightening. I was more an observer watching what seemed like a movie than a person actually living in the real world. There I was, at the San Juan Airport, not really understanding what I was doing or why. I think that when I boarded the plane for Georgia, I was in a kind of dreamlike place in my mind. How could I truly grasp the reality that I was leaving my homeland, children, parents, and friends to live somewhere I had never been with no plans and no idea why I came up with such a course of action?
My mind was full of thoughts, but none of them made sense. They were persistently hammering at me, saying that I had no other choice—I had to leave. It is imperative for your own sake, Cristina. I was killing my essence by staying where I was. These thoughts were constantly repeating inside my head, trying to convince me that I knew what I was doing. I just couldn't think anymore about the other people in my life; it was time to do what was best for me. It was time for me to put my needs before my family's needs. I had given them everything; I had given them my time, myself, and my dreams. It was the moment to fly away.
Before the flight, my lovely grown daughter and I sat in the airport coffee shop and had a light snack before I passed through security. I didn't know whether the fried chicken that I had ordered was good, because I didn't eat a bite. A knot in my stomach made eating impossible. We both were smiling, but in a very sad way. I kept looking at her eyes. Even though she is a grown woman, I saw her as my baby—the little doll who found a place in my heart a long time ago when she was born. She was then so little, fragile, and adorable that I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. She is now twenty-two—a professional woman and a very good one. I couldn't understand then that it was precisely my daughter who was giving me the courage to start this journey.
She was the one who realized that it was time to board the plane. "Ma," she said with a smile, "I think it's time for you to get going, or you'll miss your flight." The C terminal was quite a distance from the security gate. She was right; it was time for me to get going. But before we left the busy coffee shop, she held both my hands and looked deeply into my eyes. "It is okay for you to do this, you know, Mom. You have always been there for us. Now it's time to be there for you. You gave your best to me and my brothers, and because of what you did for us, we have the most powerful tools to live our lives that anyone could ask for. You taught us everything—not only with your instructions, but by your deeds. We could see through your behavior that you lived according to your word. You followed your principles. You let us make our own decisions and let us know in advance the potential results and consequences, but you allowed us to decide so that we could learn from our mistakes or achievements. You have done a wonderful job. Each of us is very successful thanks to you. Don't worry about us."
We started walking, and she grabbed my hand like she used to when she was a little girl. This time, she was holding so tight that I could feel her shaking. I knew she was having mixed feelings as well. Natalie was happy for my departure to a new experience, but she was also concerned. Finally, security was in front of us, and it was time to say goodbye. We hugged each other so unyieldingly that our hearts beat as one. I just couldn't hold back any longer, and I started to cry. It was as though I didn't have any kind of control. She was also sobbing, and she whispered in my ears, "Ma, I love you. I know you are going to be fine, and I am so proud of you." We then faced each other.
There were many things I could have said, but I just said, "Goodbye." I turned around and started walking in a direction that I had walked many times before, but now it was, in some way, completely different and new.
The sensation that I was an actor in my own movie was strong then. I had the sensation of walking over clouds, as if there was no floor under my feet. I tried to focus as I took off my shoes and coat and placed them in the security bins. I felt as though I had never been in an airport before! I was so confused that I forgot to show my passport and plane ticket, even though I had them in my hands. I also forgot that I had to put my cell phone and laptop on the conveyer belt and just stood still, facing the security people in an idiotic haze.
Once through the security checkpoint, I looked back, and there was my girl, waving and sending me kisses. I did the same and then continued walking with my belongings as well as with my thoughts, feelings, and tears.
By the time I reached the gate, passengers were already boarding, so I didn't have time to sit down until I was inside the plane. My seat was next to a window, so I would see my beautiful island from the air. I didn't know when I was going to be back, and it hurt me not to know. I was leaving many things behind. My kids, my few friends, my family, my house, and my memories were all on that island—the piece of land that everyone knows as the Pearl of the Caribbean.
But there I was! I made it! I was on my own! I realized this fully for the first time. Before this, Arnaldo was always the one who made decisions for me, but this time, I was on my own. He wasn't next to me. It had always been him, my kids, and me.
Once seated, I opened my purse to turn off my mobile phone and saw that there was a text message from my older son. He was wishing me a good flight and letting me know that he loved me. I had just enough time to answer before I heard the flight attendant's announcement.
I was leaving my land and heading to Atlanta, Georgia not knowing what I was going to do there. When I couldn't hear the plane's wheels, I decided to look through the window. It was a beautiful, sunny September 4 afternoon. I could see all the buildings, the beautiful hotels in the Isla Verde and Condado area, the green color in the trees, and the avenues full of cars. Inside myself, I was saying goodbye to all this. In no time, we were above the Atlantic Ocean, and it was beautiful too! It showed the deepest and most gorgeous shade of blue one could ever see. The ocean was decorated with little, white linen handkerchiefs of the sails on the boats below.
I tried hard to remember everything that Arnaldo used to do the moment we landed and told myself, Just follow the crowd, and do what they do. There was no use in dedicating time to worrying now when I would sit on the plane for the next four hours. So, my dear Cristina, I said to myself, it is time for me to try to sleep a little and rest a lot.
Chapter Two
Even though my eyes were closed and I wanted badly to sleep, I just couldn't silence my brain. It was full of memories, each one showing up in my movie. They were so vivid that I could feel, smell, and hear what happened over all of the years. On that plane, I realized that the memories were providing the answers to my question. Again, I asked myself,
Why am I doing this? Why am I going away and leaving behind all that has been important to me? Why is this happening? The movie played on without my being able to stop it. It was the movie of my life—my grown-up life. I felt like the universe was answering my questions, and I had no choice but to look at those answers. I saw myself in my bridal gown, marrying the only man I had ever loved. I saw my smiling face in my very simple long lace dress—but there was also sadness in my eyes. My hair was short at that time, and I didn't wear a veil. I held white, satin flowers that I took—or better said, abducted—from a flower arrangement in the lobby of the apartment building in which I spent the night before I was on my way to the church at Hato Rey. It was not at all the type of dress or the type of wedding I dreamed of when I was younger. All that mattered to me was that at twenty-three years old, I was going to marry the man I loved. Besides, what other type of wedding could I expect when we made our decision just four days before?
It was amazing how many things we did in those four days. We were getting married by a priest, I was carrying a bouquet on my way to the altar, and I didn't know that I was going to have one of those flower arrangements on my hands! We were having a small reception with only family and very close friends, and we even had a wedding cake! And there he was, waiting for me. He was very handsome and elegant, wearing his gray suit, white long-sleeve shirt, and burgundy tie. The moment he looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes, I felt calm. All I wanted was for the ceremony to be over so I would be his wife.
One thing that I saw in the movie was how confused I was when it was my turn to say the wedding vows. It took me forever to say, "I, Cristina, take you, Arnaldo, to be my wedded husband." But I did say it at last. Once we were pronounced husband and wife, I just turned around and faced everyone without kissing him! How could that happen? What was wrong with me?
The answer to that question didn't come from the movie I was seeing. But the movie continued, and we were at the reception. Everybody was happy. It was in a small room in a condominium with a view of the ocean. There were no decorations, but they weren't necessary. What was really important was that we were sharing the moment with the people we loved.
We spent the weekend at a magnificent hotel which no longer exists. It was beautiful and cozy, and I was able to announce that I was Mrs. Arnaldo Sotomayor. It sounded weird to be substituting my husband's last name for my own. Why would I have to lose my identity just because I was married? That was one thing that I needed to make some kind of mental adjustment about. But then, I was so happy that I was his wife, it didn't matter.
We had a beautiful time. It was a shame that the honeymoon lasted only a weekend, but I had to return to work. We were planning on a longer honeymoon when the time was right. But this would not happen for some time, because Arnaldo left the Island a few days later for Canada, where I would be joining him a few months later. Time went by quickly, and I boarded a plane heading for Calgary where he was waiting for me. My happiness was so great, I didn't care that we didn't have a place to live. All of it was exciting as we looked for that special place. We felt joy when we found our new home. We spent the busiest two weeks ever installing utilities and buying groceries, furniture, towels, bedding, kitchen utensils, and everything else we needed.
Just when everything was in its place and the apartment looked beautiful, Arnaldo had to leave. He had a job he had to do away from Canada, and he was going to stay for four weeks. He was gone, and I was left alone! I was in a city that I didn't know without family or friends. There was no one I could talk to. I had to add to this loneliness another factor—the language. My first language is Spanish, and even though I could understand English, I was afraid of speaking it. It was so paralyzing that I decided to buy a new TV so I could watch the local programs and start to gain confidence in using the language. I also located a city map so that I could go wherever I wanted.
It didn't take too long for me to start acting like a local. I may have had a funny accent, but everybody understood what I was saying. It felt so good that I started setting new goals for myself on a daily basis. I forced myself to go to new places where I could learn to do different things. When Arnaldo returned, I could tell him many things and share my accomplishments.
We were happy then. But there, as I sat on the plane, watching the movie in my head, I was in a new phase of my life. I was divorced after twenty-five years of marriage. Arnaldo and I raised three kids. We worked so hard and accomplished many things, but there I was. All of it was over. It reminded me that after those three years in Canada, we would return to Puerto Rico. He stayed working for the same company until our first baby arrived—our son, Fernando. We were happy with him and proud of him! Arnaldo didn't want to stay far from us, so he decided to get another job that allowed him to stay in the island. From being a scientist, he became a salesman. He had to travel a lot around the island, but he always came back home to us at the end of the day.
As time passed, there was another baby—our daughter, Natalie. Fernando was as crazy about her as we were. She was—and still is—a doll. Fernando helped a lot with her, so he voluntarily became my assistant. He watched over her and was very diligent about bringing me diapers to change her when needed. Since there are four years between them, that assistance didn't last long. Fernando had to go to school, and then it was just Natalie and me. The evenings were very important. The entire family was together, and it was good. Hard work during the day didn't matter to me. We were starting out like every couple does. There were a lot of things to accomplish, and the financial stability was a priority for Arnaldo—and for me as well. It was hard to accept that only Arnaldo worked to make a living. After all, I had worked in Canada. But at that time, I had to stay home with the kids and be a mother and a housewife.
Oh, Canada. I frequently remembered that I managed to teach there and also performed scientific research at the University. When I had children, the house was my working area, and I was delighted—but there was a part of me that was sad when I remembered all the effort and sacrifices that went into becoming a microbiologist.
When Cristina was two years old, another gift from heaven joined us—Alejandro. He was the happiest baby one could ever know. He was smiling all the time and was very easy to take care of. Fernando was in love with his baby brother, while Cristina was incredibly jealous of him. She was trying different ways to dispose of him, and that was driving me crazy. The truth was I had three amazing kids; a big, beautiful house; and a husband to take care of—all with no help at all. I was doing everything, because Arnaldo was working all day long.
At the end of the day, when Arnaldo came home, it was hard to decide who was the most tired—him or me. I knew that I looked awful. My hair was usually a mess, and I smelled funny—but the house was spic and span, and so were the kids. I just didn't have time to be ready and nice-looking for my husband when he came back home after a long day of work. He never had a specific time to be back, and the kids, because of their age differences, couldn't be on a tight schedule. That was a rough period for me—and for him as well.
Unexpectedly and out of nowhere, I started to get some funny phone calls. At first, it was a woman telling me that she was taking good care of my husband, so I didn't have to worry about our sex life, because she was in charge of that. I went crazy when I heard that. Those calls were constant, and with time, a man started calling and letting me know how sorry he was for me about my husband's behavior toward me. He said that he knew how hard it must be to take care of three kids and a house while having to deal with Arnaldo's unfaithfulness.
Those calls were impossible to manage, and every time I confronted Arnaldo with them, he said that those were all lies. "You don't have to worry," he said. "Those people are only jealous of our happiness." I decided to trust him. The basis of a marriage must be confidence in a couple's communication, and I had that. There was no problem for me in saying whatever I thought I needed to say, and I always trusted his arguments and his promises. He was the best man any woman could wish to have as a husband. He had many virtues and just a few defects. I knew that I was not perfect, but I worked hard at maintaining the relationship; at the very least, I was always willing to give my best. I just decided to ignore those phone calls and stopped commenting on them to him.
With time, Arnaldo became vice president of the company he was working at. The kids were all at school, and I had nothing to do. I started to consider the possibility of going back to work. The only thing that was hard for me to manage was the idea that the kids would have to stay longer hours at school. I wanted a job that would have flexible working hours so I could take the kids to school and then go to work. But I also wanted to be able to pick them up at school and come home with them. That way, I could supervise their study time, prepare dinner, and have everything ready when Arnaldo came home. I wanted that so much, I prayed every night for that opportunity. It happened. I got the job that I was dreaming about.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from It Is Me ... Again ... After The Endby Mayra S. Mutt Copyright © 2012 by Mayra S. Mutt. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
