Finding Kara

Loneliness is a funny thing, it has nothing to do with how many people you surround yourself with. You can be just as lonely with someone, even more so, than by being alone.

Kara pondered this quietly as she looked over at her husband of 32 years. She turned her attention to their home, bright, airy, spacious. It was everything they'd dreamed of having and more. It was a testament to their success as a couple and as a family.

She gazed at the pictures on the living room wall. Smiling faces, toothless childhood grins, vacations, and graduations.

"I think I'm going to go back to work," she blurted out.

Jeremy scoffed, "Work?" he ask, "What work?"

Kara shrugged and pushed her greying dark hair behind her ear, "Teaching."

He narrowed his dark eyes and screwed up his nose, the way a person does when they've tasted something sour. Kara called it his "tequila face."

"Brrrrannngg," he made a loud noise akin to the buzzer from a cheesy 1980s game show, "You best reset your password on that, sister!" He lifted himself off the couch and moved toward the kitchen.

Reset your password, freaking reset your password! Those 3 words had become Jeremy's catchphrase over the past 8 months or so. Anytime anyone said anything he disagreed with, he ordered them to reset their password.

Password to what? Kara wondered to herself. She could feel her face heating up with anger. She wondered if he had any idea how ridiculous he sounded. She doubted it. It was more likely he thought he was cool, down with the vernacular of the younger generation. A 54-year-old man strutting around, putting his hand out like he's directing traffic to stop and advising everyone they better reset their password.

But she could also see his point, sort of. She hadn't set foot in a classroom in 22 years, since just before their youngest son Connor was born. But she'd kept up with the continuing education requirements every year, intending to go back someday. That day just didn't happen.

She worried that maybe the learning environment may have changed too much. Yet she also knew teachers were in devastatingly short supply. And she knew she really wanted to try.

Kara followed her husband to the kitchen and found him with his head in the refrigerator.

"When are you getting groceries," he asked, "Nothing to drink in here."

"Beer isn't groceries," she replied flatly. She sighed and adjusted her tone, "Jeremy," she began, "about teaching..."

He pulled his balding head from the fridge and closed the door, "I thought I told you to reset your password on this one?"

Her shoulders dropped. "Can you please just hear me out?" she whimpered desperately.

Jeremy held out his arm, allowing her to proceed.

"I need to do this," she stepped toward him. "I'm bored. No, I'm more than bored, I'm..." Tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked hard, forcing them back. Now wasn't the time to show weakness. "There's an emptiness," she continued, "I sit here all day in this house, and..."

Up came the hand, "Woah, bored?" he challenged, almost mocking her. "Empty? Girl, you best rest that password but quick, you do not want to go there with me!"

Kara stepped back, pausing for a moment. She thought momentarily about dropping the conversation. It wasn't as if it were new. She'd had this talk with her husband time and time again over the past 3 or 4 years, ever since Connor left for college. And every time, Jeremy took it as a personal affront.

He continued his barrage, becoming louder, standing taller in his conviction, "Do you have any idea how good you've got it?" he demanded, 'any idea at all? A good home, clothes, food, you name it, you have it. I don't even run around...yet."

There it was. "Yet." Kara rolled her eyes as he blathered on and on, beating the same drum he always did. She waited for his big finish.

"I go out there every day and bust my hump for you and our kids," his voice very loud, "You have no idea the women I turn down every day. Every single day, that would kill for a guy like me!"

"Maybe they need their passwords reset," she thought to herself sarcastically. She didn't dare say it aloud, but a part of her, a big part sure wanted to.

"I know, I know," she cooed, trying to calm him, "It's not you. You're great. It's me. it's just me, I need to try this. I need to feel like I'm doing something. I just need to try."

"So try." she said, calmly, but with a sharp chill, "But you and I both know nothing will come of it. You're 53 for crying out loud! No school's gonna take you."

Kara lowered her head, defeated. The tears flooded back and this time she was powerless to stop them. Jeremy reached out and pulled her to him.

"Don't cry old girl," he soothed, "You go ahead if you want to. I'm just trying to save you the disappointment." He squeezed her tight then teased, "My arms sure don't fit around you like they used to in the old days, do they?"

She pulled back slightly, wiped her eyes, and playfully swatted the air in front of him. "Maybe YOU better reset your password on that."

Jeremy giggled, "Yeah, well, I guess my old ball uniform doesn't fit quite as well as it used to either, eh? His mood was oddly jubilant, "Come on, let's go get something to eat!"

Kara nodded. "I have a grocery list in my purse."

"What groceries," he smiled broadly, his eyes twinked, "Forget groceries, I'm taking my best girl out, we'll go to Flannigan's Pub."

Of course, they would. Flannigan's Pub is where they always went. It was Jeremy's favourite watering hole and greasy spoon.

"Fine," she replied, "Let me get changed." She looked down at her jeans and t-shirt.

"Naw," he tugged at her, "You look great just like that."

Well, she thought to herself, that was almost a compliment.

Dinner was fine. Flannigan's was always fine. Just fine. Just like the rest of her life. Fine. Kara replayed the night over in her head as she pretended to sleep.

Jeremy interrupted her intermittently, nuzzling her neck or tugging at her hair playfully, "Hey, you awake?"

She stayed perfectly still. She knew he'd eventually pass out. He was finally interested in her and she just wasn't interested in him at all. Especially given the number of drinks he'd had.

But everything was fine. The house was fine. The money was fine. Their health was fine, aside from the usual aches and pains that come with midlife. The kids were fine.

But that was the problem. It was just fine. It would be fine if she was there. It would be fine if she wasn't. It would be fine if he were there. And it would be fine if he wasn't. Absolutely everything would be exactly the same if either one of them were taken out of the equation. Absolutely everything would be just fine.

And everything would be fine if she applied for a teaching job.

The next morning, after Jeremy went to work, Kara went online and applied at the local school district as well as at 3 local private schools.

Her hands trembled as she hit send on her applications. She was filled with an unfamiliar mix of feelings, anticipation, dread, joy, fear, hope, jitters...excitement.

That was it! Her heart swelled. She'd finally cracked the code. She finally figured out what she was missing. It was excitement! Excitement and passion. She missed that feeling of being excited to wake up every morning with purpose in her heart. She missed looking forward to all the fun little unexpected things that happen in the run of a day because nothing unexpected ever happened in the run of her days.

Since Connor moved out, and even before that it had been, as Jeremy would have said, "same crap, different pile." Actually, same crap, same pile.

Kara kept her applications to herself. She didn't want to get her hopes up too much, especially in front of Jeremy. The hope was there, she just knew that she could be rejected just as easily as hired and really didn't have the energy for his "I told you so's," and "password resets."

And things were fine.

Weeks went by and she received no response from her applications. It seemed Jeremy was right. Kara began to think he was right about everything.

At her age, looking for passion and excitement was silly. She was a grown woman, with grown children. Passion and excitement were for the young. Marriage, a family, those were adult things. Those were serious business to be taken seriously. Didn't someone wise once say that when one grows up they put away the things of childhood? If she kept reminding herself of it, she could almost believe it. Almost.

The nagging sense of dissatisfaction never truly went away. She just buried deeper and deeper each time it came near the surface. From time to time, she'd allow it to rise, just long enough to check in with Jeremy.

"Do you love me?" she asked

"What kind of question is that?" he rolled his eyes.

"It's a question I'm asking you," she placed her hand on his knee. "Do you love me? Like are you in love with me? The way you were before. Way back."

"I'm here aren't I?"

She shook her head, "That's not an answer." She pressed on, "I mean, don't you miss the fun we used to have? All that passion and excitement. Don't you miss when we'd stay up all night talking and laughing?"

"Nope, too old for that now."

"Jeremy!" she pulled back, leaning her back against the sofa, "Come on, you know what I mean. Don't you miss us? Is it just me?"

"No. I don't miss us, we're right here." He smirked. "Yes, it's just you." he pulled himself closer to her and ruffled her hair, "It's just you being silly. Everything's fine."

She nestled into him, searching for that familiar warmth that always calmed her. It wasn't there. Maybe it was just her.

"Yeah, I know, sorry."

She didn't tell him about the interview. It took 3 months but the school board finally called and asked Kara to come to the District Office for a meeting to discuss the possibility of her coming on as a high school English and Drama teacher,

She silently prepared, getting her hair professionally cut, styled, and dyed for the first time in well over a decade. She bought a new outfit, a skirt and blazer set, casual, yet smartly stylish. She felt like a new woman, or at least like she was wearing the costume of a new woman.

The same woman with all her fears and doubt was still in there. She tried hard not to let her show. But she knew she failed in that regard.

The interview went horribly. She could feel it in her bones. She was embarrassed and ashamed. She felt foolish for even trying. Of course, they wouldn't want her. Not when they could get some fresh, young graduate.

The interviewers, Mr. Hasselton the Superintendent, and Ms. Rosemead, the Principal of West End High School, were nice enough. Very polite and professional, even telling her that her age and absence from the profession weren't concerns. But she could read their body language and the air in the room. The meeting had been too quick, too polite. They granted her just enough of an interview to be able to say they did.

She sat in her car and cried for 20 minutes before calming herself. It was better to know, she told herself. It was better to try and fail than to never try at all.

She knew what she had to do. And she did. She went home and poured her heart out to her husband. She told him how right he was about everything and how sorry she was. She pledged to try better, to try to find a way to cope with these feelings of deep dissatisfaction and loneliness.

Jeremy kissed her on the forehead and after the "I told you so's," gave her a squeeze and said, "hey, maybe knitting, ol' girl!"

She giggled and quipped, "I'm not that old!"

Summer faded into fall. Kara forgot about teaching and tried busying herself with other things. But nothing really changed. She still felt that same nagging feeling. She still lay in bed every night beside someone who had become a familiar stranger to her. Worse yet, she'd become a familiar stranger to herself. She recognized the bodies, the faces, the history, but not the people.

Her phone rang early one morning. It was October 12, Connor's birthday. She answered it, figuring it was him thanking her for the care package and money she'd sent.

"Kara Wilkins?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Surprised, she stammered, "Yes, this is Kara. Who is this, please?"

"It's Ms Rosemead from West End High School. I was expecting to hear from you by end of business yesterday..."

"Why?" Kara interjected. Why on Earth would she have expected to hear from her?

The principal continued, "I sent you our offer letter and onboarding package last week. I assumed, from our meeting that you were keen to teach again."

Kara sat silently. The words washed over her, jumbled. She understood them individually, but somehow, the message they conveyed together wasn't quite making sense.

"I'm sorry," she heaved, excitement rising in her throat, "Could you repeat that please?"

Ms Rosemead's smile almost seemed to come through the phone, "Ms Wilkins, I sent you an email. We would very much like you to join the teaching staff in our English and Drama department. Did you not receive my message?"

The words started to make sense.

"I apologize," she began quickly, her voice almost squeaking with excitement, "I somehow got locked out of my email. I didn't get your message. I am interested. I'm so sorry. I just thought after our meeting..."

"Can you start next Monday?" the principal asked, "I'll leave the paperwork here at the office for you to avoid any more confusion."

Kara agreed. She couldn't believe it! They wanted her! They actually wanted her! She couldn't wait to tell Jeremy when he got home.

And she did, the minute he walked in the door. She ran to him, hugged and kissed him like she did when they were younger.

"What's gotten into you?" he smiled. At least she was happy for a change.

"You'll never guess!" she bounced.

"I know I'll never guess," he rolled his eyes, "that's why I'm asking."

"I got the job!" she beamed, "Can you believe it, I got the job?"

"What job?" his face soured slightly.

"West End High, English, and Drama," Kara's head was almost spinning. "I start next Monday."

Jeremy pulled away. "I thought we put all that nonsense behind us ages ago," he scowled.

She stepped back, feeling herself deflate, "That was when I thought they didn't want me," she explained, "But the principal, Ms. Rosemead said they sent an offer letter to my email. Remember, I got locked out of that account? I didn't think any more of it."

"Oh, yeah, that." Jeremy trudged into the kitchen, his wife on his heels, "I forgot to tell you, it was messing up so I had to reset your password."

There it was again, reset your password. Not in his wannabe cool-guy way, a different way, ordinary usage. And it stung. It stung like a slap in the face with a wet hand. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was partly the fact that he'd reset her email password without her knowledge and didn't bother to tell her. But it was more than that.

It was the way he said it. Like it was no big deal. Like she couldn't possibly have anything of any importance coming to her email. Like she wasn't of any importance.

"You takin' the job?" he asked through his beer can.

"I don't know." She lied. For the first time in over 30 years, she lied to him. The words flew out of her mouth before she could even think.

"Think long and hard," he quipped, "No good will come of it. You're not tough enough to handle kids these days, I can tell you what."

Kara nodded, "You're probably right."

The following Monday came and went. Jeremy came home to a note:

Jeremy,

Working late (I took the job).

My new address is 175 West End Blvd., Unit 703.

You can forward my mail there.

I've decided I can be lonely with you or alone and happy.

I choose happy alone.

My lawyer will be in touch.

Kara

PS: I reset your password, it's GOODBYE