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21
Alexis
It’s been weeks since the storm, and life has returned to more or less normal. Power was the first thing restored, and cell reception, shortly after. Despite my protests, Lucas had taken care of all the damage around the house. I argued that wasn’t his responsibility, but he got this stubborn look and said that just because he wasn’t living there at the moment, it didn’t mean that it wasn’t still his as well. I couldn’t argue with that, so I left him to do what he wanted.
Having him back in my space for those few days was hard. It would have been so easy to fall back into old patterns, but the constant ache in my heart for what I’d lost luckily prevailed and prevented me from doing that.
The day after our fight, he left, and Lizzy was inconsolable. She thought her dad was home for good, and clung to his leg when he tried to leave. It was horrible.
The following day, power came back, and the next morning, the sound of a chainsaw woke me up at the crack of dawn. I rushed to the window only to be greeted by a shirtless Lucas cutting up the downed tree in our backyard. His eyes were drinking me in when I walked out, but he didn’t say anything, just gave me a thankful smile when I handed him a cup of coffee. We stood in silence while drinking it, taking in the sounds of early morning and nature coming to life.
A couple of days later, I returned from work to find him cleaning our pool, which was filled with mud and all sorts from the flooding. It was sweltering, and sweat was dripping off him.
I brought him a beer, and---like the coffee---we drank in silence. It wasn't a strained silence---more like we were operating under some kind of weird ceasefire. The hours spent together weathering the storm, not knowing what the next minute would bring, and the days after had shifted something. I can’t say that it had changed my mind about the divorce—I was still set on that—but that anger I had carried around continuously had fizzled and moved into acceptance. Life was too short to be angry all the time. It was time I accepted what had happened and moved on with my life. It was useless to dwell on the past. The past couldn’t be changed, and it would only drag my future down.
***
I had a fantastic day at work. I loved when a bride took the time to show me her wedding photos. It always filled me with pride knowing I had some small part in making their wedding day special. So I’m upbeat when I walk into the kitchen and see an envelope waiting for me on the counter. It’s addressed to me, Lucas’s handwriting on the envelope. It’s thin, and our lawyers are handling the divorce, so I don’t think it’s anything official. I want to snatch it up and see what it could be, but after a few seconds of indecision, where I’m watching it like a coiled snake, I decide to leave it for later.
The curiosity is killing me as I go through our nightly routine, spending time with Lizzy, making dinner, and later getting her ready for bed, but it’s once I’m alone that I pick it up, settle down on the couch and rip it open. I don’t know what I was expecting, but a handwritten letter wasn’t it. I mean, who still writes letters? Tracing a fingertip over the loops and swirls of my name, I picture Lucas’s strong, elegant fingers clutching the pen.
Alexis,
I mentioned to you that I had been going to therapy. I won’t lie, it’s really hard, but you were right. This is something I need to do for myself. When I first met with her, she threw out numbers and statistics that made me realize that I’m not alone in what I went through. But still, knowing and feeling something are two different things. Last week she suggested I keep a journal so that when I can’t seem to help these feelings and thoughts from surfacing, I write them down. That I really think about them and try to identify exactly what’s causing them. I went out and bought a journal, but when she asked me today if I’d like to share what I wrote, I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I hadn’t written a single word. It made me feel like a failure. I felt as if I wasn’t only failing myself, but I was failing us. I know I’m doing this for myself, but it’s also for you and Lizzy. Because without the two of you, there is no me.
Anyway, I digress. As I sat staring at the blank page, a pen in my hand, I remembered and started thinking about your words. About how I felt like a stranger and not your husband. I didn’t have the courage then to tell you about my life before you, but maybe I could have the courage to put those words on paper. That way you could read it without me having to see your eyes when finally the last bit of love you have for me dies. You see, the saying about the eyes being the window to your soul? It’s corny, but it’s so damn true. One look at your eyes, and I always knew I was home. You never hid anything from me, not ever. I was the bastard that kept so much away from you. So, I’m going to tell you all of it. I don’t know if you’ll read it because I have no right to make demands of you, but I’m really hoping you will. I also know you might never forgive me, but at least then you’ll understand me a bit better. At least, that’s my hope. If you don’t read it, well, let’s hope my therapist is right, and writing all of this down might make me feel a bit better. I’ve noticed that there’s a lot of ‘hope’s’ thrown in here, but forgive me, that’s the only thing I’m living for right now. Hope.
I was about thirteen years old when I realized something was not okay. But before I can go into that, I need to tell you a bit about my—let’s call it my before life and my parents. That’s how it is in my mind, my life before you and my life after I met you. I tried so fucking hard to forget my before life, and if there’s one thing I will eternally regret, it is that I wasn’t strong enough to do so.
Anyway, Dad was an airline pilot and Mom an air hostess when they met. As Mom often told me, it was love at first sight, and they got married after a brief, whirlwind courtship. It wasn’t long after that she fell pregnant with me, and they decided it would be best if she stayed home to take care of me. As you can imagine, being a commercial pilot piloting international flights, ensured that Dad was away a lot. But when he was home, he was the best dad and husband anyone could ask for. The way he looked at Mom, you could see she was his life, and it was the same for her. As time went by, when Dad had to leave, Mom just seemed to get sadder and sadder. I remember this one time; it was late at night, and I woke up to use the bathroom. When I was done, and in the hallway, I heard muffled sobbing coming from her room. I was about six or seven at the time, I think. Tiptoeing to her room, I found her lying in bed, curled up on her side, her whole body shaking with sobs. I crept into bed next to her and asked what was wrong. She looked at me, and she looked so sad. She said she was being silly and missed Dad terribly. I was too young to know then, and it was only something I would overhear later, but apparently, they had been trying for another child for a while, and she had suffered from another miscarriage. I didn’t know any better, so I took her at her word and vowed that while Dad was gone, I would be everything she’d need. That would make her happy, right? I was so damn naïve. Anyway, I settled in next to her and said that when Dad was away, I would sleep next to her so that she didn’t feel lonely. That seemed to make her happy, at least it brought a smile to her face, so that’s what I did every night. When Dad came home, I’d be back in my bed. When I told him about it, he looked so proud of me and said that no matter what happened in life, I must never lose my soft heart. That one day, I would meet a woman just like Mom, marry her and make her the happiest woman in the world. His words and the look of pride on his face made me feel ten feet tall, so I told him that when he was away, I’d be the man of the house. Mom chuckled, but Dad got this stern look on his face. He told me it wasn’t my job yet to be responsible. All I had to do was be a child and love my mom. So that’s what I did, after all, I wanted to make Mom and Dad proud.
Anyway, this is where I’m going to leave off for now. I need a clear head for the next part, and I want a drink so badly, but my therapist advised against it, so a jog it is. I need to do something to get rid of this buzzing feeling I can’t seem to shake. Or maybe I’m just a coward and trying to avoid it for as long as possible. Just know that I think of you every single second of every day, and I miss you more than I can ever say.
I love you, Alexis.
***
The TV is on, a re-run of one of those old shows where the audience laughs on cue playing, but even though my eyes are on it, I’m not seeing a thing. Unease is bubbling in my stomach. Lucas is one of the bravest men I know. What could possibly have been so bad about what he called his “before life” that would require courage to tell me? My mind goes into overdrive, trying to remember every single thing he ever said about his parents, but I come up blank. All he ever told me was that they had passed away in a car accident when he was young, and he couldn’t remember much about them. Another lie, it seems, but this one feels different. It’s like a tiny snapshot into a life of his that I didn’t know existed, and it gives me a bad feeling.
The next morning, I’m out of sorts. I can’t get rid of this sense of doom hovering over me, and I keep vacillating between anger and foreboding. One moment, I want to message him and demand he stop, and why does he think telling me this will make any difference now when things between us are over, then the next moment, I want to demand he tells me everything. So, instead, I do nothing.
It’s a slow day at work, with no appointments booked, allowing me to get lost in one of my designs. Lillian comes in with a bag of our favorite Chinese takeout, and I realize I’m starving. I grab the cashew chicken before she can get her grubby hands on it. She gives me the stink eye, but I laugh her off, knowing she prefers the orange chicken anyway.
“Have you heard anything?”
I shake my head, reaching for my fortune cookie and cracking it open. “Not since he filed his ridiculous counter-petition. Bridget said it’s clear he’s dragging his heels and doing everything he can to prolong it.”
“Maybe you should just talk to him. Ask him where his head’s at.”
I shake my head again. “I don’t have to. He’s told me he doesn’t want a divorce.”
“What glorious fortune awaits you today?” she says, jerking her head at the piece of paper in my hand.
“Tomorrow morning, take a right turn as soon as you leave home,” I read. Fantastic. “This is horrible advice. If I turn right, I’ll end up at a dead-end. Much like my life at the moment.”
“You’re such a drama queen,” she chuckles, cracking hers open. “Oh, hell no,” she mutters, her humor at my expense dying an abrupt death.
“What does it say?”
“These things are such rubbish.” She crumples it into a ball and flicks it so it hits me on my forehead. She was a mean volleyball player back in school, and it looks like she hasn’t lost her mad skills.
I can’t help my surprised laugh when I read it. “Pregnancy is a gift and in your case it will also be a surprise.”
“As I said, rubbish,” she grumbles, shoving empty containers back in the bag.
“But you’re such a wonderful aunt to Lizzy. I can see you with a whole brood of kids.” I can’t help but tease her. She’s adamant about never getting married or having kids.
“Lizzy’s yours, not mine. I can love on her as much as I like and then give her back to you. Having kids around all the time? Never.” She gives a little shudder, shaking her head.
“Never say never,” I singsong after her retreating back, my smile still firmly fixed on my face.
