by Marie Force
“I can’t find it in me to blame him when he was just doing his job.”
“Fair enough, but I want you to really think about the concept of intentions. What were his toward you when he got involved with you? Did he go into your relationship knowing there was a possibility that he might have to leave you in this state of purgatory for years? Did he know that was possible, and did he do it anyway?”
I don’t know the answers to those questions, so I don’t respond.
“What about his friends and family? What do they say about where he disappeared to?”
“I… I never met any of them. We kept to ourselves. We liked it that way.”
“You both liked it that way, or he did?”
“We both did. We had everything we needed in each other.”
“So not only did he keep from you that he might have to leave you indefinitely, but he kept you isolated so you wouldn’t have a support system in place if what he knew might happen actually did. Is that correct?”
“It wasn’t like that.” I dab at my eyes, which are aching. It’s been years since I’ve broken down the way I have in the last two days.
“What was it like, then?”
“We were happy. I was happy.”
“You were also young and naïve and far away from your home and your family. That made you the perfect girlfriend for a man who maybe wasn’t supposed to have a significant other.”
“This isn’t helping me. I didn’t come here to dismantle the character of the man I love.”
“Why did you come?”
“Because! I’m tired of being stuck. I want to move on with my life, but I don’t know how.”
“I’m trying to show you how, Ava. You’ve got to let him go, really let him go, or you’ll never be anything other than stuck. What he asked of you is more than any man has a right to ask of any woman, no matter how much you loved him or he loved you. It was unfair of him to allow you to fall in love with him. If you can find a way to accept that, I think you might be able to get unstuck.”
I take another tissue from the box on the table and wipe away more tears. “Did you have other children?”
“Three.”
“Did it help?”
“It really did. No one can take Liam’s place, but his little brothers and sister have filled our hearts and our home with love and light and laughter. They give me a reason to get up in the morning, and we all need that.”
I’m happy for her that she has other children, and her use of the word our gives me hope that she managed to hang on to her marriage.
“Let’s talk some more about Eric.”
“What about him?”
“You said you like him and he’s been very good to you?”
Nodding, I say, “From the start.”
“And you feel guilty that you’re attracted to him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I stare at her. “Do I honestly have to spell that out for you?”
“I guess you do, because frankly, I don’t understand what in the world you have to feel guilty about.”
“I feel guilty,” I say through gritted teeth, “because I’m still in love with John.”
“Who left you five years ago and hasn’t been in touch with you since, correct?”
“Not because he doesn’t want to be. He could be dead for all I know!”
“Yes, he could be. Let’s look at the various scenarios, shall we? A. He’s dead and took no steps whatsoever to ensure you’d be notified of his death. B. He’s choosing to remain out of touch with you for reasons only he knows. C. He’s somewhere in the world where he can’t get in touch with you. D. He’s part of an operation where contact with the outside world could sacrifice the mission he signed on for long before he met you. Have I missed anything?”
“No,” I mutter, infuriated with her—and with him.
“Ava.”
I glance at her and see only care and compassion in the way she’s looking at me.
“If you had told a friend or family member about this years ago, they would’ve said the same things I’m saying now. Anyone who cares about you would be furious about what he’s put you through.”
I wipe away tears that keep on coming even as I wonder how there can still be more.
“Do you want to see Eric again?”
I nod.
“Then you should. You should do whatever it takes to be happy and feel better. If he makes you happy, run with it. You owe John nothing more than the five years of grief you’ve already given him. He didn’t marry you or ask you to marry him or ask you to wait for him or anything that binds you to him in a way that would require you to feel guilty about moving on with someone else. Do you hear me on that, Ava?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
After a long pause, she says, “How do you feel?”
“Devastated.” It’s the first word that comes to mind.
“That might actually be a good thing.”
“How is that a good thing?”
“You’re devastated because I’m forcing you to face the truth of what John did to you and continues to do to you all these years later. I’m telling you it’s time to let him go and move on with someone who is right here, right now and obviously interested in you.”
“Do I tell him about John?”
“Do you want to?”
“I feel like I should because he told me about what happened with his ex, but I wouldn’t want him to tell his brother, who’s married to my sister. I don’t want to bring my family in on this.”
“From what you’ve said about him, he seems like an upstanding kind of guy. Ask for his discretion beforehand. If you tell him it’s important he not share what you’re going to tell him with his brother and get his assurances that he won’t, then it should be fine.”
“Should be…”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen if your sister and parents find out?”
“They’d be all over me, hovering and worrying and…” I shudder at the thought of it.
“And that’d last a couple of days, a week at most, and then they’d move on when they see that’s what you’re doing.” She leans in. “If you want Eric to know about John, tell him, Ava. Just tell him and be done with it. And remember, as big a deal as this has been for you, it won’t be as big a deal for him or anyone else. Everyone has their own crap to deal with.”
Over her shoulder, I see the clock edging toward eleven. I can’t believe I’ve been here almost two hours. Time flies when your soul is being flayed open and examined.
“If you’re still speaking to me after today, I’d be happy to set up another appointment. We made great progress, but it takes time and a lot of work to really move forward.”
I didn’t like a lot of what she said to me, but I can’t deny that she made valid points. “Another appointment would be good.”
“Excellent.”
Because I’m starting my new job this week, we make an appointment for this coming Thursday at seven p.m. Then I stand on legs that feel rubbery and extend my hand to her.
“I want to hug you,” she says. “Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
She comes around the table and embraces me. “I admire your strength, your loyalty, your courage and your fortitude,” she says. “You have more than earned the right to be happy by yourself, with Eric or with someone else if he’s not the one for you.”
Her kind words bring more tears to eyes that feel gritty and tortured. “Some of this was hard to hear, but I appreciate your time and your perspective.”
She hands me a business card. “My cell number is on there. I’m here for you any time you need me.”
“Thank you so much.”
“I’m rooting for you, Ava.”
I leave her with a small smile and head for the door. I go downstairs and out into the warm summer day, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. I can’t imagine how red and puffy my face must be. I retrieve sunglasses from
my purse and put them on, hoping to hide some of the carnage. The deli that smelled so good to me on the way in makes me queasy now, so I walk past it to the corner and hail a cab.
After I’m in the car, my phone buzzes with a text from Skylar.
Got called into work—grrrrr. Just checking to see how it went with Jess.
She was great—and very, very blunt.
LOL! That’s my girl. She says it like it is.
Yes, she does. She said a lot of things I needed to hear. Still processing it all. Sorry you got called into work.
Just for a few hours. I’ll see you later.
Thank you again for everything. I can’t tell you what it means to me…
Any time. xo
:-)
Chapter Ten
AVA
This has been the most traumatic twelve hours I’ve had in years, and yet I feel strangely… calm. Settled. Relieved. I told someone. I told two people, and nothing bad happened. In fact, something good came of it. I feel like I’ve made a new friend in Skylar, and her referral to Jessica was just what I needed, even if it was hard to hear a lot of what she had to say.
I’m also determined to be honest with Eric. He deserves the truth about my past before we get any further into whatever this is that’s happening between us.
When I get home, I go right to the freezer and make an ice pack to put on my eyes, hoping to repair some of the damage before Eric arrives. I stretch out on the sofa, ice pack on my eyes and think about the things Jessica said. I try to reconcile them with the image of John I’ve carried with me all this time.
As much as I might want to, I can’t deny she’s one hundred percent right about John. I’ve always known, on some level, that what he did was anything but heroic, even if the reason he left in the first place is the epitome of the word.
A short time later, my phone buzzes with a text from Eric. Just leaving the garage and on the way to your place. Can’t wait to see you.
A zing of excitement goes through me. I can’t wait to see him either. I get up from the sofa, toss the ice pack in the kitchen sink and head for the bathroom to repair the damage with concealer. My eyes are still red, but not as puffy as they were earlier. If anyone asks, I can use allergies as an excuse for the redness—and thank goodness for sunglasses that cover a world of hurt.
I quickly pack my swimsuit, sunscreen, a cover-up and denim jacket into a beach bag before changing into shorts and a white top. I’m sliding my feet into leather flip-flops when the doorman calls to tell me Eric has arrived. “I’ll be right down.”
I’m in no mood for a family party today, especially someone else’s family. But I’ll put on my game face for Eric’s sake, and then afterward, I’ll ask him if we can talk. I’m going to tell him about John and why it’s so complicated for me to be starting something new with him. It’s complicated for him, too, so we have that in common, but Jessica has helped me see that it wouldn’t be fair to go forward with him without giving him all the information he needs to understand what he’s getting into.
As I toss my bag over my shoulder, lock the door and head for the elevator, it occurs to me that I never checked to see if the Pentagon released the names of the dead service members.
* * *
ERIC
Something is different today. I can’t put my finger on it at first, but she’s quiet. Not that she’s ever super chatty, but her silence feels unsettled. I hope she’ll relax as the day unfolds, but I wonder if she’s regretting what happened last night. I really hope not, because I woke up today feeling better than I have in months.
Not only did I have a great time with her last night, but today I get to drive my Mercedes AMG GT. I pay a ridiculous monthly fee to keep her garaged in the city, and any chance I get to drive her is welcomed.
It would’ve been easier to take Metro North, but as I navigate heavy traffic heading out of the city on the Henry Hudson Parkway, I’m glad I didn’t go for what’s easier. I love living in the city—most of the time—but I miss driving. I’ve got the sunroof open to let in the cool summer breeze.
“This is a really nice car,” Ava says, breaking the long silence.
“Thanks. I bought it with the bonus check I got for my first successful pitch.” I merge onto the Sawmill River Parkway heading north toward home. I’ve been gone from there for fifteen years, but Croton-on-Hudson will always be home to me and my siblings.
In fact, Rob and Camille recently bought a condo down the street from where we grew up, so they have a place to escape to when they need a break from the city. It’s forty-one miles from my building to the house where we grew up, but that forty-one miles may as well be forty-one hundred miles for how different the two places are.
After another long silence, I glance over at her. I’m struck once again by how lovely she is. The sun is picking up the red highlights in her hair, and her skin has taken on a rosy glow. Her eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, and I notice she’s gripping the handle of the beach bag she brought as if someone might take it from her.
After another long silence, I can’t take it anymore. I have to know what’s up with her. “Are you okay?”
She glances over at me but doesn't say anything as she seems to wrestle mightily with something. “Can we talk later? When we get back to the city?”
My stomach drops. Not again. I knew it was a mistake to kiss her last night. From the beginning, I’ve sensed a fragility to her that has had me proceeding with caution as friendship became something more, at least for me.
“About what happened to me five years ago,” she says. “I want to tell you.”
While I’m relieved she apparently doesn’t want to tell me that this—whatever it is we’re doing—is over, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to wait hours to hear what she wants to say. “We don’t have to go to my parents’ house. We can turn around and go back if you’re not feeling it today.”
She places her hand on my arm. “Later is soon enough.”
Ugh. Patience has never been my best quality and having to soldier through an entire day to get to later may just kill me. “Did something happen?” I ask her. The curiosity is already making me spin.
“Yes,” she says softly. “You happened.”
I have no idea what to say to that. “Ava…”
She slides her hand down my arm to clasp the hand that’s resting on my leg. “It’s nothing bad. In fact, it’s actually a good thing that I want to talk about it. It’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
“If you say so.”
“You’re cute when you don’t get your own way.”
The playful comment makes me laugh and gives me hope that she’s not about to tell me why we can’t possibly continue something that feels so damned good. I also take comfort in the fact that she continues to hold my hand.
“Are you worried about what your mom will say when you show up with me?”
“Not particularly.”
“You were so upset the last time…”
“I probably overreacted a little. It’s just that she’s so damned predictable sometimes. The minute the three of us turned thirty, she was all over us about getting married and pumping out grandchildren, like we were suddenly going to run out of time if we didn’t hop to it. Part of me thinks that's why I was so over-the-top when I met Brittany. I played right into her hand. That’s for sure.”
“You were happy with her. That had nothing to do with your mother.”
“She was happy with Brittany. She started planning the wedding the first month we were together. I don’t want her pulling that crap with you. If she says anything inappropriate, feel free to tell her to mind her own business.”
“I’m not saying that to your mother.”
“Then tell me, and I’ll say it. I don’t want you to feel pressured by her or anyone.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t want you to have to take care of yourself when you’re with me or my family.�
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“It’s very sweet of you to be concerned, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“What if I want to take care of you in certain situations, such as when my mother wants to sink her claws into you?”
She laughs, and the tension that’s been gathering in my chest thankfully relents somewhat. That feeling reminds me far too much of the desperate days I spent searching for Brittany, not knowing she’d left me.
Ava squeezes my hand. “Why did you just get all tense?”
I don’t want to admit that I was thinking of Brittany. “Just worried about my mom driving you away.”
“I won’t be easily driven. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Her assurances comfort me, but I won’t let my guard down around my family today. The last thing I want, when I’m finally getting back on track, is for Ava to feel pressured into something she isn’t ready for. I already know I’m going to have to take it slow with her, and if slow doesn’t work for my mother or anyone else, too bad.
* * *
AVA
I absolutely love the Village of Croton-on-Hudson—never on the Hudson, as Eric tells me when we drive into the quaint town. “Your parents don’t live in Albany?” I asked.
“Only during the week. They come home on the weekends.”
The Tildens’ home is a Shaker-style riverfront “cottage” that Eric tells me has twenty rooms. Despite the size, the house has a comfortable, lived-in feel to it and is decorated in a coastal theme. We receive a warm welcome from Governor and Mrs. Tilden, both of whom are casually dressed and busy in the kitchen when we arrive.
“Ava!” Mrs. Tilden drops her knife, and it lands with a clatter on the stone countertop. Wiping her hands on a towel, she comes around the island to hug me like we’re old friends. “It’s so nice to see you again! I didn’t know you were coming, but I’m so glad you did. Your parents are on their way, too.”
“Take a breath, Mom,” Eric says, extricating me so he can hug her. He rolls his eyes at me behind her back.
A word here about Eric’s mom. She’s stunning. That’s the only word I can think of to describe her. She’s youthful and fit with a blonde bob that falls right below her jawline. You’d never know she has four children, three of whom are in their thirties. Out of all her offspring, Eric and Jules look the most like her. She’s the kind of woman who leaves even the most confident of other women intimidated, and I’m no exception.
