Quest and Tillie

Epilogue (Quest): Happiness

Don't know what it was about the damn truck Tillie bought back for us, but it became our symbol. Our giant step forward. When she drove up to Sullivan Autobody in that truck, when I saw her beaming behind the wheel, something settled in me because if forgiveness had a face, it was Tillie's right then. I couldn't stop myself from rushing out to her and before I even asked any questions, I took her face in my hands and kissed the hell out of her.

Some of the guys from my Dad's shop and mine came out while Tillie ran inside to clean off the grease I'd gotten on her face when I'd kissed her. The older guys knew this truck from before, but the newer guys had no clue about its history and its importance to me. And how and why I'd let it go.

"Sweet truck," one of my dad's mechanics, Izan, had remarked. He loved cars like I did, and we'd begun having lunch together on a lot of days and talking cars and engines. Eventually, we began going to local car shows together to exhibit his car and my truck. Both of our wives were happy to sit those out.

I wouldn't have gone to those shows before because I knew they didn't interest Tillie. Now, I knew we didn't have to live in the other's pocket, and that was not only good, it was healthy.

So our truck represented many things.

Our new start.

Our new lives.

Our new selves.

But it also was a link to our past because it was important to remember where we came from. It was OK to bring the good with us and leave the bad behind, but we carried the lessons from the bad forward. My therapist once mentioned a quote that basically said something along the lines of being doomed to repeat the past if you don't learn from it. I'd learned, and I'd learned it in such a way that I'd never repeat those mistakes I'd made that had led to me cheating on Tillie.

We both wanted to keep taking it slow, refusing to rush the reconciliation process. It probably seemed crazy to our friends and family, two married people living apart and dating, but it was an important step in reconciling. We'd dated as young teens, wrapped up in each other, needing to be together every spare minute, crazy with hormones. Looking back, we both saw how we'd lost ourselves in one another, taken on roles that didn't lend themselves to a true partnership. Now, we were navigating our way, doing what pleased us, what felt right to us and not letting other opinions interfere with our journey.

"I never realized how much you didn't talk before, Quest," Tillie told me one night when we were walking Spring.

"I just liked listening to you," I grinned down at her. "But I learned from that mistake. Now you're probably going to get sick of my voice."

"I'll let you know if that ever happens," she teased me back. "But I like hearing about what you're really thinking and feeling."

"Still feels like I've got my shoes on the wrong feet when I'm talking about all that, but it's getting better," I told her because I'd promised myself I'd always let Tillie see inside me now. No more bottling shit up because I didn't feel like I should dump all of my worries and concerns on my wife. Full disclosure, the big things and the little things.

Tillie graduated with her Associate of Science degree and passed her national exam to become a certified PTA. She'd accepted a job offer from a local sports clinic, and I'd never seen her so excited to go to work. I'd stopped by her place ten minutes before she was due to leave with a big bouquet of flowers. 

"And we're going out tonight to celebrate," I told her, giving her a kiss. I'd made reservations at Izan's family's tapas restaurant and knew his dad would fuss over Tillie since we'd gotten to know him over the years.