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Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 2 - "Thirteen" (PG)

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by James David Denisson


Twenty Four Weeks – Episode 2 – “Thirteen”

  Written by James David Denisson.

  A sequel to the movie “This is Where I Leave You”.

  Characters and back story based on the novel “This is Where I Leave You” by Jonathan Tropper.

  Copyright 2016 James David Denisson.

  Previously…

  “Judd,” Jen says, clearly rattled. “She’s alone and afraid and she’s crying. She’s crying your name. She’s also carrying your baby. Nothing that you’re doing up there is as important as Quinn right now. I suggest you get your backside into gear and get home to your wife.”

  ---

  “Listen,” Grant says, “It’s good that you’re reading, but nothing beats talking through your problems.”

  He hands me his card and I take it to be polite. Grant and Mary Upton, counselling.

  “I pretty sure I don’t need a marriage counsellor. You’re about two years too late.”

  “You’re still married?”

  “Only just.”

  He shrugs.

  “Well, I dabble in a few other areas and I’m a good listener.”

  ---

  Quinn takes a deep breath. “Can you come home, Judd?”

  “Okay,” I say. “When?”

  “Now. Can you come home now?”

  “Alright. I’ll be right over.”

  ---

  I step up to her, take her in my arms and hold her tight, tighter than I have ever held her. Tighter than I first held her when we lost our boy. She falls apart, weeping into my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, shaking. I hold her, keep holding her, not saying anything for words had no meaning now, only my arms and her grief.

  “I’m so sorry,” she weeps, “what I did to you, to us... I broke us. I hurt you so much.”

  “It’s alright,” I tell her, but it’s not. We’re broken, the both of us, and I can’t see how we can be fixed.

  ---

  “I’m sorry,” I say to her.

  She shakes her head.

  “Where we are now,” I continue, “all of this... this is my fault. I messed up. I’m sorry.”

  She’s still shaking her head. “You don’t need to say this. I broke our marriage, not you.”

  “That was just a consequence of what I’d done to us. Now, I don’t understand exactly how or why that happened, just that I know that it’s my fault.”

  “You can’t take the blame for this.” Her eyes are filling. Tears start to run down her cheeks.

  “I can. And I will.”

  ---

  “And,” I say, leaning in, squeezing her hand, “I forgive you. And it’s not because you’re having my baby – though that would be reason enough. No. I forgive you. And that’s always going to stand no matter what happens from here.”

  She’s looking down, shaking her head. Tears are dropping onto her lap.

  “Look at me,” I ask her, and she does. “Can you forgive me, Quinn?”

  She nods this time, then loses all control of herself. She drops her head onto the table, onto her hand clasped into mine and cries like I have never seen her cry before.

  ---

  The radio world is surprisingly small, and we all know each other to some degree. I spend the morning ringing around to the other stations in the city, seeing who the manager of each one are and who I’m able to talk to. My best bet is Len Brookes at our rival out in the Bronx. I’ll see him on Monday - see if I can make something happen.

  Until then I clean up my flat with the same determination I’m making to clean up my life. I’m thinking about Grant Upton and his offer, but I still think I’m not ready for that kind of introspection just yet, but I suppose the time will come when it will be necessary.

  Monday

  I head down to see Len Brookes without an appointment. It’s not really how things work, but I know he’ll see me after I wait a little. I’m wearing my father’s suit. I feel that it’s kind of lucky to me now because after I wore it things started to change. Maybe my luck is changing. I’ve known Len for a couple of years. The last time we’ve spoken was at an awards dinner a year ago where we topped our time slot. I can’t quite recall, but I think Quinn was sitting next to Wade that night. I can’t remember if that was planned. Maybe it was.

  “Judd Altman,” he says, extending his hand. “What brings you down here?”

  I take a deep breath, shake his hand, sit in a chair at the other side of his big desk. “I’m looking for work actually. I was hoping you’ve got something for me.”

  He nods. Not in a way that tells me he has, just that he’s hearing me.

  “I’ve done good things the past few years, as you know” I continue. “It was time to move on though, and so I thought maybe I could do something different here.”

  He frowns. “You know I have the upmost respect for you and your work, Judd...”

  “Okay,” I say after a little silence has fallen between us, “but you don’t have anything - nothing at all?”

  “I wish I did.”

  I sigh. “Okay.”

  He rubs his chin and then sits forward. “Okay, here’s the thing...”

  “Damn,” I say with a sigh. “I hate it when there’s a thing.”

  “Yeah. So, look, there were rumours about why you left Beaufort. They tend to stick, you know?”

  “What rumours?”

  “The ones that make it difficult to get other work. And truth is, I could hire you, but the people upstairs would have me can you the very next day. It doesn’t matter how good you are, it matters what kind of image we have. You understand, right?”

  “Actually, I do.” Then I laugh. “This just gets better and better.”

  “It’s nothing personal. Hey, I like you. But it’s not enough.”

  “I get that.”

  “If it’s any consolation, Man Up is in trouble. We’re ahead of them on the ratings this quarter. They went down hard right after you left.”

  I laugh again, and perhaps it’s because maybe there is a little justice in this world after all. “Really?” I say.

  “We’ve got two of their sponsors over with us now, and a third is thinking hard about joining them. They’re deserting the sinking ship.”

  “That’s very interesting.”

  “Anyway…” he says, standing, extending his hand again, “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  “Actually,” I reply with a grin, taking his hand, “you’ve helped me immensely. Thanks for seeing me, Len.”

  “No problem. And good luck to you, Judd.”

  Now there is something of an embryonic plan forming in my mind. I spend the next two days visiting all of Wade’s sponsors personally. I know them all. I’ve spent long lunches and phone calls with these people. I know them by name and they know me too. It’s funny, but of all the relationships that I’ve had over the last year, these were the most real. Sure they were only business, but we never lied to each other. We always shot straight. And right now that’s what I need.

  I know the two that Len had mentioned were lost. They signed contracts, they’d shifted money. The third had pretty much made up their minds. There were at least four that were on the edge of moving on too, and another two that were seriously thinking about it.

  Wade had been offending a lot of people, and not the kinds of people that you’d want to offend. These are the ones paying the bills. These are the ones you need to keep happy. I don’t know what he’s been thinking. He’d have never said the kinds of things he’s said while I was there. But I don’t think that it’s because I’m not there exactly, like he’s missing me, I just think m
y replacement can’t control him.

  Tuesday

  I’m fast asleep when my phone buzzes on the table next to me. Quinn’s all too familiar face is on the screen and I’m instantly worried. The clock on my phone says it’s a little after midnight.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her immediately.

  “Yes,” she says quietly, and then: “no.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know who I am anymore.” Her voice breaks and I feel my heart breaking along with it.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve changed, Judd. You said that you got lost, well I did too. I lost myself.”

  “Ah.”

  “I don’t like the person I’ve become. She’s cruel and she’s unfaithful. That’s not me. I’m not like that.”

  “No. You’re not.”

  “I don’t know if there’s anything left of the real me.”

  “There is,” I tell her tenderly.

  “Really?”

  “I’ve caught glimpses of her from time to time. She’s there.”

  “I don’t know if I can get her back.”

  “You will. Give it time.”

  “I don’t know if it’s possible.” She starts to cry a little.

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No,” she says, taking a deep breath, banishing her tears. “It’s late. I’m sorry I called you. I just... I guess I just needed to hear your voice.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But it’s not fair on you. After what I did to you, then I call you like this...”

  “There she is.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the Quinn that I remember,” I tell her.

  “I’m so sorry, Judd. I’m sorry I got lost. I’m sorry I lost you too.”

  “Me too.” And I mean it. After everything has been said and done, we are not all that different, my wife and I – that we’ve

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