Like most men, Will did not relish a talk.  Nothing would strike fear in his heart as me saying, “Honey, we need to talk.”  It was not a fear of any relationship problems.  No, his fear stemmed from having to face a real conversation of any depth.  Platitudes was his way of carrying a conversation, which didn’t bode well for hard times.

After we got married, we immediately started to have typical marital issues over money, planning, housework, the bedroom, and who left the seat up.  It seemed that no matter how trivial the issue, there was no working through it.  I was getting worried and frustrated, so he agreed to see a counselor.  Our sessions with the therapist didn’t last long and frankly not much got accomplished.  So, like many failing marriages, I got pregnant shortly thereafter.  Because, obviously a baby will solve all marital problems.

After our first child was born, I attempted to re-broach the subject of our difficulties.  Knowing that to start the conversation with the killer phrase, “we need to talk” would shut him down, I opted for more indirect routes.  I suggested Saturday night date-nights.  The idea behind this was that we would get a sitter and have a nice low-key night to ourselves.  My hope is that by doing this, we could reconnect and find a way to bridge our widening divide.  His role was to secure the sitter while I planned the night.   I can’t recall if we ever did one night out like this.

Then, I attempted then to do Saturday night stay-in’s, where we would crack open a bottle of wine and just hang out.  Since he couldn’t get motivated to find a sitter to go out, this alleviated that requirement.  We could just sit and be together.  I think we did this once.

And so it went.  I suggested reading books, writing journals and therapy.  None of it happened, and our communication came to a grinding halt.  Things between us continued to plummet with no foreseeable way of improving.

In January of 2000, I was getting ready to leave my job at a company called ITGuidance.  I had run into problems with the two owners of the company and was thinking of just staying home with the kids.  This seemed like my last viable option to reversing the riptide of marital doom that was growing in strength.  I had given my notice to quit, and was wrapping things up with some customers.  By quitting, I hoped that it would reduce the stress at home, and allow us to refocus on our relationship.  The strain of both of us working was taking such a heavy toll.  Plus, my job was miserable, and I knew that didn’t make things any more delightful.

In a visit to a customer to inform him of my imminent departure, I received a strange reaction.  I went to the customer to introduce my replacement, and he was visibly startled at my departure.   This customer was a very tall, dark and large Puerto Rican.  I’d say he’s 6’5”, if he’s an inch, and well over 200 pounds.  When I told him the news, this very dark man turned pale white.   At the time, I couldn’t figure out why.  I thought we had developed a good working relationship, but his reaction seemed odd.

He asked for my personal email or phone, so that we could “keep in touch”.  Naturally, I obliged.  I figured he was a nice enough guy, and probably far better connected than I.  My thought was that by keeping a connection like him, that if I decided to go back to work in a few years’ time, that he could maybe help me.

That night, he called me at home.  Turns out that the reason he turned pale when I told him the news is that he had been scheming in the background, and I didn’t know it.  My plans to quit threw off his plans.  He was planning on quitting Wired Cables to go to work for a company out of Dublin, Ireland.  The company he was going to was a start up, and he had planned to use my knowledge of his business to help him get his systems setup.  If I quit, he no longer had anyone that he knew to help him with the systems.

We started talking.  One thing led to another, and 30 or so days later, I found myself gainfully employed by this Irish company as a consultant here in Virginia.  We agreed that I could probably do the bulk of the job from here, and only travel to Dublin occasionally.  We had no long-term plans for my role with the company, but that was fine with me.  At this point, it was just a great way to earn some fantastic cash, and put off my stay-at-home Mom aspirations by another few months.  I greedily took a handsome paycheck and flexible schedule over staying home to focus on the marriage.  It felt like such a win-win.  Working some hours, getting great bank, and still having extra time to tend to the home fires.

As the job progressed, I found I really enjoyed it.  I also found that they appreciated the work I was doing.  By May timeframe, we were discussing the idea of bringing my whole family to Ireland so that I could work for them full time.   This was madness!  Only four months earlier I was going to stay at home, and now I’m looking at moving my whole family overseas for my job!

The Irish company put together an offer that I couldn’t refuse.  Will and I discussed it at great length, and agreed that it was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity.   Not only was it a great opportunity, but my husband’s entire family is all of Irish descent.  In fact, his mother was born in Dublin, where we were going!  After a few weeks of haggling with the company over my pay, I signed the contract.  We then kicked into high gear to get ready.  We needed to shut down our life in Virginia and figure out how to set one up in Ireland.

My husband even found reasons through his current job to go to Ireland to look for houses, cars, and nannies.  He took a couple of trips, in addition to those that I took, trying to get our new life setup overseas.  After only two months, we had secured the essentials: a house, a car and a nanny.  For someone who wanted me to stay home, I was thrilled at how quickly he’d rallied to support this!

Logistics in Virginia moved just as quickly.  By July we had sold our home in Virginia.  A month later we had sold our cars.   We hosted a going-away party with all of our friends, and moved into come corporate relocation housing.  By the beginning of September, we were finally leaving Virginia.  In seven or so short months, our world had radically changed.   But, even so, we were both thrilled about the adventure!

Or…so I thought.

Nicole Drapeau Gillen, Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved