A Titantic Clash Between Romance and Reality

Monday is the deadline to commit to the Oak Harbor Relocation at my company. If we sign on for relocation we are awarded a $5000 net relocation bonus when we take residence in Oak Harbor. If we stay till the end of business here in Portland we get a 4-week completion bonus and four weeks severance pay, probably about $3000 after taxes. Company representatives have indicated we would be eligible for unemployment. By policy the company does not provide reference letters, but they are arranging for outplacement assistance.

If you spend even a few minutes a day with the morning paper you know with certainty that these are generous options: every day 1000s of people lose their jobs with no notice at all and few resources. A week or two ago I read in the USA Today about a man who worked all his life in the mines, lost his job when his company shut down, relocated to Montana on the promise of a new one, and on his first day at the new place his new employer announced they had to lay off 5000 people. Unemployed, broke, and 2500 miles from home. Imagine having to go home and tell your wife.

When my wife was seven her father was offered a lucrative job in Alaska working for the department of Defense. He wanted to provide a better life for his family, so he took it. This was the early 60's when being the "breadwinner" was a role taken very seriously in our culture. He made the hard decision to go hundreds of miles away from everything he loved and knew to make enough money to secure his family's future and hopes. It wasn't an easy decision. He had three daughters and a son, Marie being the youngest, just started second grade. He was a very loving man. After many long talks with his wife he decided to go. He wrote long letters home, braving the cold of the Aleutian Islands. He sent home packages and pictures. And he worked, making thousands of dollars more than he could have in the contiguous fifty.

Marie loved her daddy and she was devastated by his absence. As an adult she has grown to understand it, but the hurt of being without him at a critical time in her childhood is the single most powerful experience of her formative years. Even now she has a deep fear of abandonment. It's a wonder she's put up with all my antics and rebellions. it's amazing how hard we've both fought to keep hope alive in this crazy relationship in this crazy world.

We've talked about it, and there is no way she will relocate to Oak Harbor. In the years before she knew me she was married to an abusive man, and she uprooted her youngest daughter and exposed her to all kinds of trauma in trying to make that relationship work, and now she is certain that she can't make that mistake again, that her foremost responsibility is to provide Austin with safety, stability and continuity. She can't ask her to move 300 miles from her brothers and sisters and her peer group, risking a new life and a new place with a stepfather who has failed her before. We can try, and we want to, but in Marie's mind it has to be here, in Portland, where her job is, where her four kids are, where she has lived for 25 years. She arrived at that decision carefully. Oak Harbor is not an option if we want to be together.

In my life I have seldom done the practical thing. Most times I've resisted practicalities altogether, opting for rebellion or adventure or change or independence or starting over every time. Indeed, I've never worked so hard on a relationship as I have this one. I was always moving on. I've always given up and struck out on my own. But this was different. No one has ever moved me or stirred me or inspired me the way this woman does. No one is as desirable or unforgettable, or will be. This is the last best good woman of my life, and it's either her or Oak Harbor, it's as simple as that.

The reality is, we need the money. For two people who have never saved a dime and worked for wages all their lives, five thousand dollars is a lot of money. It's a new start. It's a chance to get out from under the thumb of all your bad decisions. It isn't all the money in the world, but it's enough to make a difference. Even divided in half it is. Marie right now is essentially homeless, sleeping on her son's couch. She's working at Safeway for eight dollars an hour, part time. It's my responsibility to take care of her. With $5000 and a job, I could do a much better job of that. I could provide her with some real hope.

It's not a news flash to report that the economy is horrible right now. I've scoured the paper and the online resources, applied for a dozen jobs without a single phone call. Today Kaiser sent me a form letter indicating they had determined I had selected another position outside Kaiser and wasn't being considered as a candidate for their open positions. I don't know how they made that determination without talking to me, but it's clear I'm not going to be hired there, or anywhere, without some major luck. I'm 53. It's a lot easier finding a job at 23 than it is 53. Just being available makes you a suspect candidate at my age.

I want to be with my wife. I want to sleep with her again and have dinner with her every night, to be in the place where she is and make up for the lost time. She is the best company I have ever known, and more comfort and joy than a thousand Christmas carols. I need her. I want her. I miss her.

It isn't easy between us, though. We have a lot to overcome, and a lot to work on. Our prospects will be a lot brighter with $5000 and a job. But going against her wishes and hopes in such a critical matter might be the final misunderstanding between us. For her it would feel like another abandonment, and she'd feel every original hurt all over again.

Monday December 1st is the day we turn in our paper. The company will make staffing decisions and transfer arrangements from that date, and they need time to make an orderly transition of business.

I wish someone would call me Friday for a new position for twice as much money, or offer me a book deal or a seat at the final table of the World Series of Poker. But this isn't the movies. This is real life, where people have to make agonizing decisions that change their lives forever, and sacrifices are made. I'm torn between two uncertain prospects, and I have no idea what to do. Do I give Marie $2500 and a chance at a new life, or do I go to her and promise everything will work out and we'll find a way, without having any idea what that way is? It's a lot easier in the movies, where romance always triumphs over reality.