The Woman in the Cave

What do all aggrieved spouses want? It's never about the money. It's usually about making the other one suffer.

I didn't want to battle with him in court. I really didn't. It wasn't because I was afraid of losing. Quite the opposite in fact. It was because I would win. And I would crush him in the process.

"Bran, please. Don't make this more painful than it has to be. I know that I hurt you, and I'm sorry about that. But trust me, you don't want to take this to court. That's why I'm giving you so much alimony. If you go to court, the judge is going to give you a lot less than this."

For the first time, he turned to look at me. His eyes were filled with angry tears. Behind them, there was hatred.

"Youwouldthink this is about money." He sneered. "No. This isn't aboutyourmoney. I'm not signing that because I want you to draw up a new document. In this document, I don't want you to give me anything."

"Huh?"

"I don't want anything from you. No alimony. No car. No insurance. Nothing." he said, disgust filling his voice. "I want to pretend that you never came into my life. I want it to be as if I never met you."

"But, how will you live?"

"Not your problem. You already filed me away as a useless husband whom you had to support. I'll be damned if I'll be the ex-husband who still suckles from your tit. Change the document, then I'll sign it. After that, I promise that you will never have to endure another day being attached to me."

"Bran, think about what you're saying." I pleaded with him. Most people would have jumped up and ran out of the room before he changed his mind. But I didn't. After everything we'd been through, I didn't want him to starve to death because of his pride being hurt.

"Katrina, get the fuck out of my face." He said dispassionately as he returned his focus back to the computer in front of him. All I could do was pick up the documents and go to my room.

Now, we were here to finalize everything. No matter how much his lawyer pleaded with Brandon, he would not relent. I tried to get him to see logic on a couple of occasions, but I was met with venomous anger at each turn. Finally, I gave up. Let him be that way. If he didn't want my money, I wasn't going to continue to beg him to take it.

I signed my portion of the documents. Then, my lawyer slid the papers across the table to his side. Brandon and his lawyer whispered for a few seconds, and then the lawyer shook his head and gave Bran a pen.

Bran went in to sign it, but something made him pause. His pen hovered over the paper, as if in indecision. Then, he looked up at me. As we locked eyes, I saw the man that I'd fallen in love with all those years ago; the man that I thought I'd grow old with.

"I loved you Kat. I really did." He said sadly. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I watched him. His eyes misted up also. We sat there with a chasm of regrets between us. Then, with a dejected shake of his head, he scribbled his name in the appropriate places. Without another word, he stood up and quickly walked out of the room.

***************************************

DR. CARTER – PRESENT

Kat was in uncontrollable tears by the end of her story. I was finding it hard to stay detached. I felt Kat's pain as she relived the regret from that time in her life. I even felt Brandon's pain, even though he wasn't here to tell his side of the story. I couldn't imagine the despondence of being rejected by a spouse that felt you weren't good enough.

"How long have the two of you been divorced now?" I asked. She sniffled and wiped her nose on another tissue that I'd given her when she was in the middle of her story.

"Three years."

"Seems like a long time. Is this the first time you've grieved over the end of your marriage?"

"Not really. After things were finalized, I took two weeks off. I went on a cruise to the Bahamas to get away from the house. Even with Bran's stuff gone, there were still remnants of him everywhere. His body wash was still in the bedroom's bathroom. The pillows still smelled like his aftershave. The food he enjoyed was still in the fridge. I wasn't in the mind frame to completely free my house of him, so I left and paid the maid extra to do it while I was gone."

"Was the cruise fun?"

"It was fun at times. I got drunk a lot. Got laid a couple times by some guy with a sexy smile and hard abs. He had to be at least 6 or 7 years younger than me. He was a good distraction, I give him that. He had LOTS of stamina. I also went to a few clubs, ate exotic foods in restaurants, and bought a bunch of shit that I really didn't need. But when I went back to my room, all I could think about was my marriage."

"How were you when you returned to work?"

She laughed aloud. "While I was gone, it was announced that Terry was the new Senior Partner. So, I came back to that lovely surprise. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Indeed. That must have been a blow, considering everything that happened."

She sniffed angrily. "It was. It really was. That's why I quit."

"Wait, what? You quit?" I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

She gave another laugh. "Yeah. I did. Maybe I was still grieving over my marriage and not thinking clearly. I don't know. Iwasreally emotional. But when I heard that news, I just lost it; Jerry McGuire style. I caused quite a stir when I left. They're probably still talking about it."

"Wow." That was all I could say. I wasn't expecting this part of the story. "Do you regret it?"

"What, quitting my job, or divorcing Bran?"

"Both."

She pondered that for a second before she said, "Yes. I do."

"So, what brought you here all this time later? I would've expected this to have come sooner."

She reached into her purse that she'd placed next to her on the couch and pulled out a wrinkled, worn piece of paper that looked like a pamphlet. She laid it on the coffee table between us. I picked it up and read it. It was a program for a play called, "The Woman in the Cave".

"What's this?" I asked. She grabbed it from my hand, turned it around to the back, and pointed at a name.

She was pointing to the writer. It was Brandon's play.

She leaned back and told me about it. "It's about a man who gets trapped in a cave during a storm. He's trapped in there with a woman. While the storm is going on outside, he and this woman talk to pass the time. He tells her stories about his life. Unfortunately, she's a real mean bitch. She constantly tells him everything that's wrong with each story he tells. She calls him weak and pathetic, and she cuts him down every chance she gets. At first, he becomes angry with her and they yell and argue. Then, he starts to believe that he is worthless. Finally, towards the end, he starts realizing just how much potential he has. He realizes that the woman's only purpose is to tear him down. When he finally confronts her, and tells her that no matter what she says, he won't believe her anymore, she disappears and the storm clears. That's when he realizes that she was a figment of his imagination."

"Wow." Was all I could say, for what seemed like the billionth time today.

"It's playing for a week. Then, he's taking it to another town. Most critics have given this play raving reviews. There's even rumors that he has another one ready to go."

Reading the program, I looked at where the play was being held. "Umm, you do realize that it's two hours away, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

"I see. I take it you've already been there to see it." She nodded. "How many times?"

"Three. Every single time I cry."

"Really? Why?"

She wiped the moistness from her cheeks. "I don't know. I guess I hate thinking about what I did to him. When I watch the woman in the cave break the main character down at every turn, I just cringe. If that's how Bran sees me, then I must have been a real monster."

"Do you ever see him there?"

"Every single time."

"And you never go up to him and talk to him?"

"No. I hide and just watch him after the play is over. I tell myself that I will walk up to him and talk to him. I say that each time. But then I lose my nerve."

"What would you say to him if you got the nerve?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, I guess. If the woman in that play is a representation of me, then I must have been horrible to live with. I want him to know that I never meant to tear him down. I was angry and frustrated with him, but I did love him. At least until the end. I just wanted him to do something with his life. But my intention was never to emasculate him."

"Do you still think he is a - what did you call him - a bloody pussy?"

"No. Myhusbandwas. Myex-husbandisn't. Now I understand why he didn't want anything from me in the divorce. He wasn't just trying to prove to me that he could make it without me. He was forging his own path. Making his own way. I just wish I could have been there to help him, not hold him down."

"Maybe you did help him."

"Come again?"

"Maybe, being married to you was enabling him. He didn't have that desperation that drives artists. Lots of great art and literature come from a time of emotional turmoil. Look at all the great works that we have from people going through the Holocaust, slavery, or the Great Depression. While living in your house, and eating your food, there was no desperation to produce that "spark". Perhaps, the fall of your marriage gave him what he needed to find himself."

"But I'm the girl from the cave!"

"Perhaps." I agreed with her. "But the girl from the cave helped the man find himself, didn't she?"

She looked at me with a screwed face. "So, what are you saying? You saying that he should thank me?"

"No Kat. Absolutely not. But, I think you should try to talk to him, and say all of the things that you need to say. And then, you need to forgive yourself." I paused to observe her. She was sniffling into tissues, remnants from her earlier crying fits. I continued. "That's why you're really here, isn't it? Because you haven't forgiven yourself. All of this anger that you have for him being a pussy is just you displacing your real focus. He was never a pussy. He was just unmotivated. You're angry because you weren't the one who finally motivated him. Not until you broke his heart anyway."

"Yes." She said in a broken voice as she degenerated into more sobs. "I was his wife! I should have been there for him. WE should be celebrating this together!"

"Well, then I guess you know what you have to do when you see this play for the fourth time. It seems that you have a lot of things that you need to say to him."

"But what if he doesn't want to see me? What if he rejects me?"

"Considering the fact that you rejected him for nearly a year, I think you can deal with a little karma. A big, bad lawyer like yourself."

She gave a teary laugh. "I suppose so, Dr. Carter."

We both stood up and I allowed her to hug me. "You're going to be okay, Kat." I whispered in her ear as I rubbed her back reassuringly.

"Thanks Beth. Thank you so much."

************************************

KAT – The next night

For the fourth time this week, I listened to the thunderous standing ovation that the actors received. For the fourth time, the actors called my ex-husband on the stage to take a bow with them. And for the fourth time, I cried.

After everything died down, and people started heading home, I stood in the corner and watched him mingle with guests from the audience. Every fiber of my being wanted to turn and run back to my car. But my heart needed to stay. I needed to talk to him.

As the crowd filtered down, I made my way to him. He noticed me when I was a few paces away, and I saw his smile fade. His eyes tried to register what he was seeing.

"Hey Bran." I said meekly. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. That's just how it sounded.

"Kat? Hey. I didn't expect to see you."

"Yeah, well, I was in town so I decided to check your play out. I've heard good things about it."

With a confused look, he asked, "Really? You were in town? All the way up here?"

My brain feebly tried to conjure up a believable scenario that would find me so far from home. When one didn't come to me, I decided to humble myself and just go with the truth. "Actually, no. I'm lying. The only reason I'm in town is to see you. Just like I was here last night, and the night before that."

He froze where he stood. "You're here to see me?" he asked in disbelief. "Why?"

I took a deep breath. This conversation was actually going a better than I thought it would. I didn't expect to get this far. I had a bunch of scenarios running through my head. One of them even ended with him forcefully grabbing me and throwing me out.

"I have some things that I need to say to you; especially now, after watching your play. I was hoping that maybe we could go somewhere and... you know... talk for a while."

My voice sounded nervous and unsure. It was so out of character for me that it made him apprehensive. He looked at me like he was trying to figure out a complex equation written across my brow. I wanted him to see that I was here in peace, so I added, "Please, Bran. I won't take much of your time."

He decided to take what I was saying at face value. "Uhhh, okay. Yeah. Let me tell Peyton where I'm going and then we can grab a bite to eat.

"Okay. I'll just be waiting over there." I said as I pointed to my seat. He nodded and walked off. I sat in the seat and watched him have a brief conversation with a petite woman holding a clipboard. She kind of resembled Hermione from Harry Potter, only with glasses. I saw her look my way a couple times as they spoke. They seemed comfortable with each other. The way they interacted seemed familiar and unforced. I realized how comfortable they were when they kissed before he came over to me.

"Okay Kat. I'm ready to go." He said, putting on a coat and scarf.

I got up from my chair and followed him out of the theater.

***

"So, what brings you all the way out here?" he said after he swallowed a bite of his disgusting roast beef sandwich. I forked through my salad as I watched him.

I'd rehearsed this moment so many times, just like I did when I prepared statements the night before a big case. I knew what I was supposed to say; but now – nothing. Blank.

"I just wanted to say...I'm sorry." Was all I got out. He nodded and took a breath as he looked away.

Silence fell between us. Neither of us knew where to take this conversation. There were so many unsaid words between us; so much unspoken pain. It was impossible to know where to begin.

"You hurt me Kat." He finally said. Simple. The summation of everything that we were trying to say to each other was packed into those four words.

"I know. I look back on everything and...I...I..." I said, unable to control the tears that started to come down. Bran looked at me and nodded.

"Yeah. Me too."

Another silence loomed around us. Once again, Brandon took the wheel. "What do you think of my play?" he asked, changing the mood that was threatening to turn depressing.

My face lit up. "Oh my God! I love it. I honestly didn't know you had it in you."

I didn't mean for the last statement to come out like it did. It was meant to be a compliment. But instead, it sounded like I had no faith in him whatsoever.

"What I meant was, I didn't know that you wrote plays. I thought you only did novels." I said, quickly trying to clean it up. I sat there hoping that he bought it instead of focusing on my Freudian slip.

"Well, a wise person once told me that if I was doing everything I could do and I was still getting rejected by publishers, then maybe I should try something else." There was a humor in his voice. He even smiled. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, this wise person sounds smart. Must have gone to Stanford." I joked back. Then a cloud passed over me as I added, "Even if she was a bitch."

The both of us sat there in another awkward silence. He wasn't going to dispute the fact that I was a bitch, and I didn't expect him to. But I still secretly hoped he would.

"Bran, am I the woman in the cave?" I asked after the silence started to get weird. I wasn't sure I wanted him to confirm that, but I needed to know.

He nodded. "Yeah. Well, partly. When I first started writing the play, she was you. But when I was finishing it, I had an epiphany of sorts. I realized that a lot of what you were saying was stuff that I thought about myself. I mean, I didn't think I was a pussy, but I was unmotivated." I inwardly cringed when he said that last part, but he didn't notice it. He just kept talking. "I was content to sit back and wait for someone to knock on my door and hand me a golden opportunity. It wasn't until we got divorced that I was able to see; after I got past all the rage, of course. It was like I was surrounded by you and your stuff, and I couldn't see me. Does that make sense?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I get it. My biggest regret is that I didn't find a way to motivate you without being such a bitch about it. I just saw so much potential in you. I thought that you were wasting it, and it made me resentful. Then, the thing with Terry happened..."

Anger flashed on his face. "Yeah. I definitely could have done without that."

"I know. You didn't deserve that. I wish I could go back and do it all over again."

He didn't respond, so we fell into silence once again. I wrestled with my thoughts to bring us out of this quagmire of a subject. I didn't want to reopen old wounds. "So, who was that girl that you were talking to? Is there a new Mrs. Carrigan in the young, handsome, playwriter's life?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, not yet, but soon." He said with a boyish smile

"Soon?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Her name is Peyton. I met her at this local coffee shop. It doubles as a poetry lounge. I found it by mistake one day, and I've been going there ever since. It became my safe haven. Listening to people express themselves through writing, it helped me out when I was at my lowest."

"I'm so sorry, Bran." I said again for what seemed like the billionth time. Guilt washed over me once more. He dismissively waved his hand.

"Water under the bridge. Besides, it's how I met Pey Day."

"Pey Day?" I asked incredulously. He laughed. "You call her Pey Day? You're kidding, right?" He shook his head and took a sip of his drink. I covered my eyes with my hand like I was embarrassed and asked, "What is it with you and these corny ass nicknames?"

His mouth gaped open as he mockingly pretended to take offense. "Whatever! Don't pretend that you didn't like Kitty Kat!"

I screwed up my face like I smelled something bad and shook my head. This brought another fit of laughter from him. "You're a liar!"

We were getting loud and people started looking at our table, so we calmed down. When we were able to act like adults again, he said, "Pey Day is the one who suggested that I write plays."

"Really?"

He took another sip of his soda and continued. "Yeah. When I got around showing her all the books that I wrote, she wasn't too complimentary. Brutally honest is more accurate; emphasis on the brutal."

"Well, we both know how much you love brutally honest women." I joked.

"Maybe I'm a masochist." He said with a laugh. "On the bright side, she did give me good notes. She said that reason why they weren't any good was there was too much dialogue and not enough context. The format was better suited for actors and actresses. That turned on the lightbulb in my head, and 6 months later, I had my first play."

"Woman in the Cave?"

"Hell no. My first play sucked ass! Peyton told me so with bluntness that almost rivaled – what was it that you called me? Bleeding pussy with a tampon in it?" Once again, an embarrassed, apologetic look came across my face. "But with her critique she gave plenty of good notes, and encouragement. About another year after that, I had this play. She read it, thought it was brilliant, and helped me get it off the ground. She even directed it. Now, people everywhere are requesting it."