“You should have waited until I was ready! You should have loved me more! I should have been enough!” I finally give in, crying.
“You had Toby! I had no one! You picked him. You picked him over me!”
“You didn’t understand my pain. You didn’t understand my loss,” I tried to reason.
“You should have understood my loss and tried to make me understand yours,” he returns, his voice hoarse.
“There’s no way to describe that pain, Jase. There’s no explaining losing a piece of yourself.” I grip his cheek, brushing away stray tears. “I get it. She didn’t grow inside you. Her heart didn’t beat along with yours. You didn’t feel her as she moved as a part of you. But I did, Jase, and now, she’s gone, too. I lost my mother and daughter in the same week, and you walked away from us. Not me, Jase. You.”
Jase falls to his knees in front of me with a soft thud. The breath whooshes out of me with the impact. He strokes my stomach as realization of what he's ignored must've hit him. I don't want to look down at him, to see the pain I've experienced these last several years in his eyes, but I do anyway. He's my husband, and it should be reason enough. He peers up at me with the most devastating eyes.
What happens when the ocean cries? Is it like Jase’s eyes with tears dribbling over his lids? Or is it not noticeable since the ocean is already filled with the earth’s tears as it weeps, crying from unfairness, wanting to be loved and respected? If it’s not like his, then what are these droplets leaving my husband’s eyes? Are they tears of a man full of regret or a man who’s given up once again?
“I miss her, too. I mourned her, too. Fuck, love, I’m sorry,” he apologizes.
Tears cascade down my face, dripping onto him as he kneels in front of me.
His eyes are full of sorrow waiting to be shed. “I loved her, too, Lo. I wanted her, too. I wanted her so badly, but I had to be strong for you. I had to be strong for the kids. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t heal you, didn’t give you all the love you needed. I’m sorry I didn’t just listen. I know that’s what you needed. I know that now, Peaches. I realize how much it hurt to have me abandon us. I didn’t know what to do. I was hurting, too. I buried her alone, Lo. Not just her, but your mom. You never showed up, and I needed you to, but you couldn’t see past your grief.”
He holds his face in his palms, gripping too tightly.
“I don’t fault you for that,” he continues. “I don’t blame you for being miserable and inconsolable, but I grieved alone. I hurt alone, and I bore all the pain without you. I had to be a father to our kids, to help them grow and know that I loved them while you shut down. You completely fizzled out. You were a zombie. You didn’t exist. You no longer felt a thing. Couldn’t look into my eyes when I kissed you, didn’t speak for weeks. You had no sounds, no speech, no words, Lo. How could I help someone that didn’t tell me what to do? How could I be here when you pushed me away? You kept pushing until I stopped trying.” He hits his fist onto the ground, a resounding thud echoing in the quiet room. “I know I shouldn’t have stopped, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I lived with a body that no longer carted around a soul.”
I want to kneel down and hold him, put his pieces back together, hold him in my arms and fix him like he should have done me.
But I don’t. I can’t. Not this time.
“I know I've messed up beyond repair, Peaches. I even realize I'm not the man you currently need," he expresses on an exhale, like the words hurt him to say, like he knows they’re not true in his mind but says them for my benefit. His face is full of pain and despair, and I want it to go away. "But, Peaches, I need you to come back to me one final time." He stands up, cradling my face, like he's trying to connect us in more than the ways we're already linked.
“Whether it's next week, a month from now, hell, even a fucking year from now, I'll wait for you. Above all else, I believe in us now. It took me making the worst mistake—me losing you—to understand, but now, I do. Our love will sustain the most tremulous circumstances. I truly believe that. Even though you don’t have that love for me, I still think it’s there. It’s just hidden within the pain, wrapped like a rose in thorns, waiting to be plucked free.”
His hand trails down my stomach, absently tracing the faint scar from my last pregnancy with the softest of touches. Does he even realize he’s touching it?
Jase slowly meets my eyes once again. He brushes away a stray strand of hair that's sticking to my right eyelash, giving me tenderness he didn’t offer when I actually needed it.
“Just know that I understand you need something right now that I can't offer you. I love you, Peaches.”
His palms cup my jaw softly, gently, like we’re lovers all over again, like he didn’t fuck up, and I didn’t fuck up, and we’re fucking fine.
“And... and... I understand,” he whispers over and over and over again against my forehead.
He presses a long kiss on my forehead, just breathing slowly against my skin. It tickles, caressing me in the way it used to, before heartbreak, before madness, before hatred.
“I love you more than any goddamn words could ever express, and I'll be waiting. Find your way back to me,” his voice falters at that, the strain in his words has my chest burning.
Tears stream down my eyes like betrayal seeps from his heart. He did this to me—to us. He's the one who fucked up, the one who broke me. Why do I feel the devastation like I'm the one who caused this?
“Come back to me,” he recites in my ear, just like he always used to, making my chest itch like it’s dying from infection. He used to say that to me when I’d shut down. He’d beg, and right now, it’s almost like a promise to wait rather than a plea as he did so many times before.
“Come back to me,” he begs, kissing my lips like he’s dragging me back from the mindless hell I choose to stay in. It doesn’t work. It never does. “I know you aren’t aware, Loren. But I’m here, waiting, loving, and patient. I’m here. I’m always here.” He trails kisses up my throat, back down, and then back to my lips. “Can you feel my love? I’ll make you feel it, baby.” He cups my face, stroking it as gentle as ever. “I know you’re in there. I know you’re hurting, I know your pain is insurmountable. I know it’s unbearable, but we’re here. Your family. We’re waiting. Come back to us. Please, baby.”
As the memory flicks, hazy as can be, I’m hit with guilt. I’m overcome with a new grief. I could have been there for him. I could have fixed all of this. I could have been.
But he could have, too.
“I don't want to do this anymore,” I admit, the defeat in my voice apparent.
Reaching for my wedding ring, I take it off my finger. When I place it in his palm, he shudders. His entire body shaking makes me ache deep inside.
Pain is my prison.
Pain is my salve.
Pain will save me.
“Love isn't supposed to hurt this much, Jase,” I explain, closing his hand around the simple band that symbolizes our vows.
Immediately regretting the naked feeling it offers, I clench my other fist in hopes that I don’t grab it back. Instead of the argument I expected, he pulls me into his arms tightly, like his hold is our magic glue and it’ll somehow piece the broken shards that were lost from separation long ago.
Even though my heart may never heal from his betrayal, or my own betrayal too, his arms feel like home. He's my home no matter where the world takes us. He’s my courage no matter how much distance is placed between our bodies. He’s my saving grace no matter the damage that wrecks us.
With that realization, I sink into him, breathing him in, absorbing every morsel of love he’s offering. Lord knows I’ve been begging for it for the past year.
“Just because it isn't supposed to hurt this badly doesn't make it any less real,” he murmurs. “We're real. This love we share is real. This life we’ve created together is real. When you're ready to come back to me, I'll be waiting. I wasn’t here for your fall, Peaches,
but I’ll make damn sure to be here for your rising.” He squeezes me once more, his muscles flexing with the motion. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch you last time, but I will if you ever fall again. I’ll be waiting.” He leans in, kissing my forehead, leaving me bereft and emotional. “Come back to me,” he whispers into my collar, trailing his nose up and down my neck affectionately. “Don’t walk away from this,” Jase implores, trying to touch me.
I back away, flinching from his touch. If he as little as brushes his skin against mine, I’ll cave. If he even gets close enough, I’ll lose my resolve. And I can’t do that right now. I have enough respect for myself to follow through, to be who I need to be for my heart and for my children.
“You made a promise, Lo. You’re mine, mine to love until the end.”
“It’s the end,” I offer. “It’s the end of us.”
“It’s not, Peaches! Dammit! We’re still married. We made vows!”
“Vows we both broke, Jason! In sickness and in health, right?” I come toe-to-toe with the man who was once my salvation, once my entire world, once my everything. “That’s what you fucking promised, right?” I yell, exasperated. When he doesn’t answer, I continue, “Well, I guess that promise meant nothing to you. I was sick, Jason, yet where was my husband?” I throw my hands up, wanting to scream until my lungs stopped working. “Oh, that’s right. He was fucking my best friend, and better yet, he was knocking her up!”
He stands there, speechless, his face forlorn and despondent, but I need his anger. Where’s his fight? Where’s the man I married? It sure as hell isn’t the man standing in front of me.
Which only makes my fall harder as the realization dawns on me that we’re both broken.
There’s a crack in my voice as I ask, “Why her? Why a baby? Why was she good enough to have one, but mine was taken from me?”
“Loren,” he chokes, his voice strained with pain. “Don’t do that.”
In that moment, I hear it. My Jase. But he’s not mine anymore. The indent of where my ring once was is proof of that.
“It’s true. She gets to have a child while mine, along with my mother, were taken from me. Now, I lost them, her, you...” I grip my face, lowering myself to the floor. “All for what? What’s the point anymore?”
Jase lowers himself to the sit next to me. When his arm brushes mine, I nearly hiss. The connection from our skin always ignites, even when we hate each other. Especially when we hate each other. After all, that’s how this all started. Him wanting me, and me hating him for wanting me.
He doesn’t move his arm, keeping it flush with mine and driving my senses insane. I want to reach for him, soak up that comfort he always offered, but it’s different now. We’re different.
As if sensing my pain, he grips my hand, twining his fingers with mine. The shockwave that shoots up my spine has me near tears. It’s bad enough I’m thinking of Lilac and the child now inside Ellie.
“You are,” he says.
“W-what?” I question.
“You are the reason, Lo. You’re the point.”
I shake my head, not understanding what he’s trying to say—that, or not wanting to hear it.
“You are,” he confirms, gripping my hand tighter.
He raises it to his mouth, his feathery breaths falling over each knuckle. When his lips barely touch the finger that once held my wedding ring, I shudder.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe.
He shouldn’t have this effect on me. He broke me. He broke us. But he does. He always has... ever since that party over freshman summer.
“There’s nothing I can say to make this better, to make this even remotely okay, but, Lo...” He pauses, bringing his other hand to his face, dragging it down ever so slowly. Right there, in that moment, his age shows. He’s exhausted. “I’ll never stop trying. So long as this heart still beats in my chest, I will never stop trying. Because I’m going to be the man you married. I’m going to be the man that made your heart race, made you smile, made you feel like the only woman in the world. There’s no stopping my pursuit for your heart, to hold it once again, make it flicker with the ignition of my love. I’m not going anywhere.”
I continue to hold his hand because words aren’t coming. They aren’t there. The silence is enough for now. It’s all I can offer him while this raw. He’s too soft, stroking my hand with his thumb, like he has the right to rub me. He holds me as if he never held her. It rises again, the resentment. The bitterness. The betrayal.
Pulling my hand away, I stand and turn. My story can’t end here, but we do. I leave a bereft kiss on his forehead. His eyes swim with unshed heartache. After closing my eyes and inhaling his scent one last time, I walk away. This time, I don’t stop and think of how much it hurts him because this time, I’m choosing myself.
That realization has me rushing out of our room, out of our house, and out of this marriage.
Love her but leave her wild. The quote by Atticus burns behind my eyes, making the tears stream as freely as the quote refers. It’s the quote that got me through his abandonment. It doesn’t absolve me of my sins, but it reminds me the old Lo is in here somewhere. Buried deep, possibly, but there.
I found the quote randomly on Pinterest, when I had been trying to find reasons to live. And yet, it still means as much as it did that hopeless day. The day I could’ve ended it all.
The day I planned.
The day I wished I’d been stronger.
The day I lost my husband.
chapter thirty-three
Past
Lo
Hopeless.
Despair.
Resignation.
Those are the feelings that play on a loop as my body refuses to recognize its loss or need for sleep. I close my eyes, blinking them over and over again, wondering why numbness is my default mode. As I get up, it’s easy to ignore to shower for the fifth day in a row. It’s been even longer since a brush has seen my hair, but who’s counting? The longest time has passed since I’ve been outside of that front door, but that doesn’t faze me. No one cares, right?
Right?
My brain hurts concocting emotions and words, stringing together thoughts or sentences, pillaging memories that are the foundation of my life. Lifting my arm, I sniff my armpit, not noticing anything.
Even smell doesn’t register with me anymore. It can’t possibly, not with the barrenness in my stomach, the hole in my heart, the lifelessness in my carcass. The oil in my hair is there, but it’s more a friend than something to fix. It’s company, my companion as my life slowly dwindles into nothing.
The outside world is a stranger, one I don’t want to meet any time soon.
She’s gone.
They are gone.
I’m alone.
No one can save me now.
After heading to our shared office room, I grab a notebook, and renewed purpose pulses through me. The yellow lines on the pad of paper stare back at me—blank, empty, deserted, just like me. It mirrors me, like a double-edged sword, showing me what’s left. It depicts the nothingness that has become my life, the blank canvas I resemble. It shows what I can rebuild and re-brandish, but mostly, it shows the lies.
You’re not enough.
You couldn’t save her.
You are a horrible mother,
I try to shove away my truths, the ones that boil beneath my skin like acid in a bath for metal. They erupt beneath it, in my blood as each one takes and takes and takes, and with my truths splayed open, I know what is true.
They’d be better off without me.
Ace.
Jaz.
Lilac.
Tobe.
Jase.
Ellie.
They’d be better off. I know it.
No one is home. Jaz is with Ellie. Ace is at school with Gray, and Jase is off somewhere. My heart beats slowly, too slowly, almost as if I’m already dead, almost as if it knows what my intentions are.
I loo
k at the pad of paper again. I trace each line repeatedly with my finger, and once I know the texture of it by heart, I grab a pen.
I’ve never been one for words, one for prose or poetry. I’m simplistic. I get to the point. I’m as concise as it gets.
Once I take the cap off with my teeth, my pen meets the paper, and scribbles come from me. It works. The ink bleeds, the paper forcing it to expand, making the tip scrape irreverently.
With each scribble it indents, it makes a new pattern for me to know, a new artistry to discover. My pen scratches the surface, the only traces of me that’ll be left behind. I remember the words my last therapist offered me, the last ones I took before never returning to him again. They come out like the incoherent swirls my marks leave.
“It’s okay to not be okay, Loren. It’s okay to hurt. It’s even okay to grieve. It doesn’t make you broken to be in pain. It makes you human. I know it hurts right now. That’s to be expected. Just remember there are reasons you are here on this earth.”
I nod absentmindedly. I promised Jase to come here, to give him some peace, knowing I’m trying. That’s what he wanted. He needed me to try.
Dr. James stares at me with compassion, or maybe it’s pity. These days, I can’t tell the difference. “When you’re feeling hopeless, like you’re drowning, and it seems to swallow your very essence, I want you to inhale deeply, hold it for a few seconds, and then exhale slowly. Once you’ve done that several times, Loren, I want you to grab a pen and paper and remind yourself of what is important in life.”
The words float in my mind, connecting with a deeper part of myself that’s been hidden for a while. It clicks, staying there, nestling in the recess, allowing my brain to capture the information, even if my heart does not.
Now, those words resurface. They come to me now that they are needed, and maybe that’s why they stuck somehow, for this moment, for this last memory.
The scribbles stare back at me, unimportant, unnecessary, but very noticeable. I worry my lip between my teeth, bringing the memory of Dr. James to the surface again.
“Write your reasons why, your reasons to stay, your reasons to fight, your reasons for existence. They matter.”
Inhale, Exhale Page 30
