Ms. Kaydence Goes to California

I called a lot of people on the telephone when I initially left Lee. Our separation was the biggest drama of my entire life up to that point, and it didn’t seem right to let my friends hear some distorted third-party version of the story through the Mormon grapevine. 

More than anything, I didn’t want to be alone. 

Telling people what happened was my awkward way of reaching out and asking for love. I needed support and sympathy. I needed to be heard and acknowledged. 

During all the confusion and withering anguish of divorce proceedings, Kaydence is the one who called me. 

It’s difficult to sound cool and collected when your eyes just won’t stop leaking, so I’ll be honest here: I was a blundering mess. I’m not sure that Kaydence ever heard me sound more distraught. 

She said, “I want to come see you.”

So we made arrangements, and on August 5^th I picked her up at the San Diego airport. It was a warm afternoon, and I remember seeing her standing at the curb with her bags in a row. She wore a summer skirt with dark-rimmed glasses, her hair short and brown instead of long and blond like it was the day we first met. Short and brown, short and brown…

To me she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. 

The next few days felt like a train wreck in slow motion, not because spending time with Kaydence wasn’t wonderful, but because it was so difficult to open my mouth and speak. I was a lame duck. A limp fish. 

Bad company.  

I had this fantasy all worked out in my head. When Kaydence arrived I would spill my heart, and I would tell her every little terrible, torturous, nasty detail. I would share every thought, every worry, every fear. I would find a way to verbalize my pain. 

As a Mormon I was always taught that it was important to show faith in Christ by staying positive in times of trial and adversity. In John 16:33 Jesus says “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” I must have shared that scripture a hundred times on my mission, but now it was real to me in a way I had never expected or experienced. On the drive home, with Kaydence sitting a mere three feet away from me, I knew that telling her the truth would make me look pathetically faithless and weak. As if the cosmos was counting on me to bear my burdens courageously. 

So I lied. 

I told her about Marianne Williams and finding hope in the brilliant bounty of unconditional love. I spouted off a decent treatise on the liberating joys of positive energy and high vibration fields. Not that I didn’t believe what I was saying, because I did. But the words were empty. My heart was so heavy. 

On Friday we went to the Temple in Redlands and did initiatories. I went to the Temple a lot in those days, searching for answers. Searching for peace. I remember wishing that Jesus would step out from behind the Temple curtain and tell me something. Anything. It WAS his house, wasn’t it?

But he never did. 

I had a therapy session afterwards with a church-appointed counselor. He invited me into his office, sat me down, and told me that I was most likely to blame for the problems in my marriage. I had probably overreacted to Lee’s behavior, and my overreaction was the reason Lee refused to work out problems with me. The counselor encouraged me to call Lee and admit my faults. He was sure that once I admitted my culpability, Lee would agree to work things out. 

A vulnerable mind will believe almost anything. I went home and told Kaydence what the counselor said. Then I reached for the phone, dialed Lee’s number, and followed the counselor’s script exactly.

I have many faults. 

I realize now that my overreaction to your behavior caused you pain and confusion. 

I am so, so sorry. 

I’ll go to counseling and work on my shortcomings. 

I’ll try hard to be good this time.

Please can we try again?

“Sure,” Lee said. “You can come home, but don’t expect me to change. I can’t be what you need.”

I suppose I felt stupid for asking. We hung up, no better off than we were before, and I cried on Kaydee’s shoulder for two hours. 

We went to San Diego the next day and walked through Balboa Park. We went to La Jolla beach and watched the clouds change color over the ocean. I remembered taking Lee to these places when we were dating, playing in the waves together, riding bicycles along the coast. I remembered wearing a beautiful white dress and getting married in a Temple near La Jolla. The longer the day got, the quieter I became. 

I missed Lee. 

On the evening of Kaydee’s third day there, I had another pain attack in my chest. It hit quickly and suddenly as I was trying to fall asleep for the night. It was nearly midnight, and my parents were away on vacation. I had to drag poor Kaydence out of bed so she could take me to the Urgent Care center in Temecula. It was strange so be there so late, and it seemed like the bright florescent lighting made everyone look more sickly than they really were. We waited quite a while for the doctor to come, and when he did there were still no answers. They didn’t know what was wrong with me. He thought I might be suffering from some strange stomach virus, so I convinced him to write me up a prescription for medication. Just in case. 

The doctor shot me up with pain meds and sent me home. It was nearly 2 a.m. 

I had pain fatigue all the next day and could barely get out of bed. I threw up 3 times that day and floated in and out of consciousness, which left Kaydee watching T.V. in the living room until I managed to get up. I don’t even remember what we did for the rest of the night. The next morning it was time to go back to the airport. 

I felt so embarrassed about the way the trip ended, with me sick and sleeping most of that last day. I imagined she must have been glad to go back to her family, back to normal life. 

At the time I didn’t have the words or the emotional ability to express how grateful I was that she came to see me, how it helped me through a difficult time, how it’s still helping me today. So, when Kaydence talks about the visit I still hear disappointment in her voice. 

She always says, “I didn’t do much.”

The truth is, nothing short of miraculous intervention could have lifted that pain. I needed to feel it, breath it, live it, and then pass through to the other side. 

All you needed to do was be there. 

And you were. 

Thank you for sacrificing time and resources to come see me. I didn’t have to cry alone that week because of you, and for the rest of my life I will remember that someone cared enough to be with me at my worst.

Somebody thought I was worth it. 

You will never know how much that meant (and still means) to me, Kaydee. 

Thank you.