Circling The Shadows

by Paige Randall

  "I've decided to take Clara to Chicago for Christmas. I’m not sure how long we’ll stay. I'd like to see my house and check in at the office." Anna doesn't comment, so John continues. "I know this is about the time Dylan died last year. I know you are struggling. I don't know what to do for you."

  Anna lies down in the sand on her side, facing away from him. He has no idea what to say, so he says nothing. He looks out at the ocean and listens to her cry. When she finishes, he asks simply, "Are we done, Anna?"

  Her answer is slow. "John, I am so lost. So bloody lost." He waits a long time before she speaks again. “I’ve told you some things that aren’t true.”

  “Do you want to tell me anything now?” he expects her to say nothing, but she surprises him and starts talking.

  "That first day we spent together in Charleston, I told you a tale about my parents and their cool detachment, stiff upper lip and all that. John it was absolute bullshit. I was committed to that lie. I have been telling it since I was sixteen years old. But it was bullshit. Then I met my mother. I learned about my father's family in Manchester. I'm so angry." Her face is red and her eyes stream.

  "Go on Anna. Get it out."

  "My adoptive parents were terrible parents, horrible, abusive people. My mother doesn't know this and shouldn't. It would devastate her. My father drank and he beat me and worse.” John doesn’t ask what she means. “He was all sunshine during the day, a pillar of the community. But at night he drank and everything changed. My mother wouldn't get involved. She never loved me. Now I know I was a burden to her from the start. I think she was relieved he had me to beat on, instead of her. Eventually, he broke my arm and my grandparents sent me to boarding school. I met Dylan and they were happy to pack me off to America when I finished school. It was all kept very quiet. Much like my mother's exit from England. John, I latched on to Dylan and he was the spitting image of my father emotionally. I followed him to America for more of the same abuse. John, I fucking chased it."

  He reaches to take her hand, she pushes his away.

  "When I think that I had a father and brothers a few towns over from where I grew up in England, I could scream. And why, why would they send me to America and not tell me I had a mother there? All these years without her John, my god, and I desperately needed her."

  She stops talking and doesn't start again, but she chews on her lip like she isn’t done.

  "Anna?"

  "There is more," she says quietly.

  "Tell me so we can get past it."

  "I don't really want to," she says.

  He lies back in the sand, she does the same. There is nothing to say if she won't talk. He bites back the ultimatum in his mouth.

  "Please don't give up on me." She turns to him and searches his eyes for assurances.

  "Anna, this is starting to feels like a game. You are so bent on hurting me or maybe hurting yourself. I feel like you are testing me every day, pushing me away. How many doors can you slam in my face and still find me on the other side?"

  "John, I am not right for you, I never have been. It was all an act. I was fun and carefree and adventurous all summer, but it was more bullshit. It isn’t who I am."

  John sits back up and so does she. "Are you trying to tell me what we had, what we have, isn't real? No one is that good at bullshitting, Anna."

  "I'm not real John. You are perfectly real and sincere and absolutely perfect. It's me. I'm just broken."

  "Anna what the hell changed since you came back from Connecticut? You were so happy and committed to starting our life together."

  She answers slowly. "I see you with Clara and I think I am not good enough for you. I never will be. I'll never fix. You are working so hard with Dr. Lane. You are managing everything you have taken on this fall. In no time, you'll be bathing Clara, tossing your Xanax and leaving therapy. But I'll never fix. Never."

  "You liked me better when I was more fucked up?" John asks, genuinely wanting to understand.

  "I liked me better when you were more fucked up."

  He doesn't know what to say. "Why do we have to heal at the same rate of speed?"

  "I'm actually regressing John. At quite a rapid rate.” She takes in a deep breath. “John, in Austin, before the wedding. I knew you would find me in the tub that night. It was intentional.”

  "What?" he asks, thinking he must have misheard what she said. Did she set him up to find her in the bath for a reaction?

  “It was on purpose.” Anna cries silently, looking out at the horizon. “I don’t even know what to say. You were doing so well with your family in Austin. I was afraid. If you don’t need me, how can you love me?”

  He stares at her, stunned and silent, trying to process what this means for him.

  "I sat in this exact spot when I decided you would be the father of my child. It was the best decision I ever made. In those summer months, you made me love you within days. You are the kindest, most patient and understanding man I have ever known. I had planned to basically steal your sperm, your baby and lie about it. You forgave me. You really needed me John and I loved that. You turned all that into a reason to spend our lives together. You have given me so much. I see you getting better. You are so full of love. When you look at Clara, when you play your music, when you give donuts to a doorman, when you flip a fucking steak on the grill, love just flows from you. You will get better not because of Dr. Lane, but because you fundamentally love the world and the people in it. The more you remember that, the less you need me. John, I need you to need me more than I need you to love me. I can’t really tell the difference sometimes."

  He wants to react to everything she said, but he can’t speak. He didn’t actually take in much after Anna’s admission that she is deliberately hurting him. He wonders if she wasn’t pregnant, would this be the end of them? Would he leave her? He could take Clara to Chicago, enroll her in school, get back into the courtroom, make his house there a home. He could meet some uncomplicated woman, someone who plays tennis and raises money for charity. She would adopt Clara and they could have a few more kids together. The kids would go to private school and take vacation photos on a beach, a different beach, with boys in matching mint green pants and girls in matching mint green dresses. He could take up skiing or sailing or golf. They would go to dinner parties and he would wear a dinner jacket. He would cut his hair and shave his beard and his wife would greet him with a kiss and hand him a perfectly blended martini at the end of each day, toasting his successes.

  But he hates martinis and he isn’t interested in simple. This is his life because he chose it. He needs to talk to Dr. Lane to figure out why he is so drawn to unhappy women. What kind of savior complex does he have and can he live with it? No, that isn’t really the question. He can live with it. He needs to know if Anna can, in fact, be fixed. Or not. Can a woman who hurts him to satisfy her own insecurities ever be made to feel whole?

  "Will you come to Chicago with us?" John asks her.

  "No darling, not just now." She smooths his beard. “Thank you for asking though.”

  "Will you be here when we get back?"

  "Will you come back?" she counters.

  He ignores the question. "We are not done, Anna."

  "Even though I am a lying train wreck?" she asks.

  "You love me," he states simply. "You don’t want to, but you love me. I think someday you will want to."

  "Can you text me Dr. Lane's number? I think I may need a referral."

  John tosses suitcases into the back of the SUV and Clara runs across the lawn to Anna, sitting on her stairs. Anna’s shape is changing daily now. He bites back the guilt for leaving her. Anna walks Clara to the car, swinging held hands, not commenting on the amount of luggage they are taking.

  “John, don’t rush back. Please don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself for a change.” He ignores her statement, not knowing how he wants to leave things. “Clara, darling have a wonderful time in Chicago.” Anna hugs Clara and buckles her in
to the car seat with a kiss.

  “You’ll spend Christmas in Connecticut?” He asks and she nods. He hugs her tight but pulls away quickly and gets into the car.

  Anna returns to 517 before John leaves the driveway and closes the door behind her. John wonders if she is watching them from a window and guesses she probably is not. She has already severed their connection. This is more than a holiday getaway. It is a trial separation and they both know it. John starts the car, hands on the wheel and imagines all of the worst things… Anna packing up and leaving, she and the baby gone forever. Anna tripping on her steps and miscarrying again. Anna falling into an even deeper depression, taking a handful of pills, hanging herself, drowning herself, jumping in front of a train, crashing her car into a tree. Slicing her wrists. John holds the wheel tightly. This is a lot of what if.

  “Go Daddy?” Clara asks.

  He could walk back to Anna’s house and drop this altogether. He can care for her every day; nurse her back to a better place. Drive her to doctor’s appointments, rub her back while she cries, cook her favorite meals, convince her they would be together forever, no matter what. He could save her from ever harming herself and even let her harm him occasionally. Just emotionally, he can take it. He knows he can save her.

  He puts the car into reverse. Anna needs to save herself.

  Thirteen

  After New Year’s, John goes to his Chicago house. He walks the rooms and tries to get a feel for what their lives might be like there, without Anna, without the baby. Sitting on the hearth of the stone fireplace, John calls Anna for the first time since he left weeks before. They have had no contact beyond a perfunctory Merry Christmas text. Anna doesn’t answer. John sits on the hearth and reflects on everything he knows about family law. He imagines the worst-case scenario of a bitter custody battle or the best case, shared custody, still a shitty scenario. His mobile vibrates signaling an email an hour later. John is surprised to see her name in his inbox. He taps the email, reads it through quickly and then again slower taking in the details.

  Hello John. I’m sorry I didn’t take your call. Truly it would have been a teary one and I’m not feeling up for it right now. I hope you and Clara are well. I am doing ok. The beach seems like a vast wasteland without you. I am feeling a bit metaphorical. I had a rather unbelievable Christmas in Connecticut. Oh that sounds so cliché. Wasn’t that an old movie? I had Christmas with my mother, and stepfather and stepsister. As much as I missed you and Clara, it would have been impossible not to appreciate that special holiday. Pemberley is hanging in there. I considered staying in Connecticut for longer, but I needed to get back to Dr. Barry.

  I have been seeing Dr. Barry quite a bit, three times a week. How’s that for crazy? It is extraordinarily difficult, this process of uncovering and revealing all that has remained hidden for so long. Releasing everything I have worked so hard to avoid and keep buried. My mother is here with me now so please know that I am not alone, cowering in a corner. She is actually joining me on some of my appointments, and we are working through some things together. This has been incredibly helpful to me.

  I am learning what a miracle it is that we found each other John. With abuse, these patterns are so often repeated. One keeps circling back to the same type of relationship, no matter how bad, because it is familiar and in its own distorted way, safe. In moments of brutal honestly, which seem to be coming more regularly, I know this is why I have resisted loving you. I don’t trust it. I trust you, but I don’t trust the possibility of a normal relationship.

  My mother and I are considering visiting my brothers in England in a few weeks before I am too far along to travel. I think this would be very good for me John. I need it all out in the open. I need all of these firsts to be behind me.

  I hope dear Clara is well and I do miss you terribly. John, can we be pen pals for now? I know if we talk I’ll just cry. If I see you, I’ll rip your clothes off and rape you to avoid thought and discussion. I know you are avoiding coming back to Osprey Island. I do understand. I’m sorry to have chased you from your home. Are you well? - Anna

  John reads the email a third time. He can’t go back to Osprey Island now. She is doing the work and if he jumps back into the picture, he will topple what she is building. He calls Dr. Lane to talk about resuming his appointments with her via Skype. He spends the day big box shopping, outfitting the house with bedding, pots and pans, electronics and groceries. With Stephanie’s help, he enrolls Clara in day care and arranges a work schedule that allows him to spend part of the day at the office and the rest at home. Two days later, he and Clara move into the Chicago house. John drafts his reply to Anna.

  Hey there. Thanks for your email. Yes, pen pals is probably good for now. I am glad you enjoyed Christmas in Connecticut and so glad Pemberley is holding on. It sounds like you are doing good work with Dr. Barry. I know how hard it is. Hang in there Anna. I am seeing Dr. Lane via Skype. Very 21st century. I have decided to spend the winter in Chicago with Clara. There is no better place to winter. Oh, that is so untrue. We are settling into the house here, but it isn’t home. We made a home together on Osprey Island together. It was unusual, but it was a home. If you need me, I can be there in a matter of hours. We need some time apart though.

  John can’t decide how to sign off so he doesn’t and just hits send.

  Fourteen

  John watches the clock switch to 12:01 a.m. on the fifteenth day of March. The Ides of March is the day John has set as a deadline for deciding how to live his life, where to live and with whom.

  He is ready to go back. He thinks Clara is too. Their winter together in Chicago has been important for her. Her September transition on Osprey Island was too quick. She needed to ease out of Stephanie’s house and into his. Clara has flourished during her time with them together. They all eat dinner together most nights. She has sleepovers with Stephanie, Brian and the boys, but her transition is complete. She lives with her daddy now.

  His phone signals a text. Talk? It is from Jordan.

  Jordan picks up on the first ring. “Hey John,” he says, more subdued than John has ever heard him.

  “Hey Jordan. Everything okay?” John thinks he knows the reason for the call.

  “Pemberley just passed. Rodrigo and Ellen were with her. She went peacefully,” Jordan says quietly.

  “I am so sorry to hear that. How is Rodrigo managing?” John can’t help thinking about having to watch your child die.

  “There won’t be a service. Pemberley wants her ashes spread over the water, wherever Rodrigo chooses. Rodrigo doesn’t want Anna hearing this over the phone. Rodrigo will go to Osprey Island to tell her. Or?” Jordan leaves it there.

  John calls the realtor to put the Chicago house on the market to lease or sell. Chicago will never be home for him again. Chicago is Sarah and another time and another life. It is not who he is anymore. He is a guy who fishes on the beach, plays in a rock and roll band, and works on a laptop watching the ocean.

  “Clara, I was thinking about going back to Osprey Island. Maybe going back to your old school there. What do you think?”

  “Anna? Bella?” she asks. Clara and Anna Skype almost daily. It is sort of the reverse of what Clara was doing in the fall. Now she has her afternoons at Stephanie’s and chats with Anna. John knows Anna is ready to be a family with them. She has done the work and he trusts her to be a part of their lives.

  “Anna wants to see you so much. Bella’s there too and missing you a lot.” Clara runs upstairs to start packing. The realtor agrees to bring in a service to clean out the house. Stephanie and Brian bring the boys over to say goodbye.

  “John, is this a good thing?” Stephanie asks.

  “It’s time for us to go back. Clara is ready. Anna is ready. Osprey Island is home. Stephanie, I’m ready too. I just want you to know, I am okay now. All the way okay.”

  Within hours, John and Clara are on the road.

  Fifteen

  Anna hears the small knock and open
s the door, keeping her sights high. "Well now, I was sure I heard knocking. How peculiar.”

  "Here I am!" Clara shouts jumping from behind the hibiscus.

  "There now you silly, silly girl!" Anna shouts grabbing her for tickles. "Is it time for breakfast all ready?" Clara nods. Anna pulls the door closed behind her, one hand supporting the weight on her lower back.

  "Hello sister," Clara says to Anna's belly button.

  "What's for breakfast love? I'm starving." Anna asks as they cross the lawn.

  "Pancakes, bacon, eggs, berries." Clara answers.

  They chat right into the kitchen. Where John hugs Anna from behind, both hands on her belly. “Hello baby girl!"

  Clara asks, "Baby sleep at Anna’s house or my house?"

  "Well, I'm glad you asked darling girl. Your Daddy and I were wondering if it might be alright with you if the baby and I both had rooms here with you, in your house."

  "One room for Anna. One room for baby?" Clara asks counting on her fingers.

  "We have five rooms,” John says. “I thought maybe we could let the baby have the room next to you so you can be close to her. And Anna can have the big room down the hall with the bathroom where Grammy and Poppy sleep."

  "Where will Grammy and Poppy sleep?" She asks.

  "They can sleep in Anna's house when they visit. Anna will be here with us."

  "Okay," Clara decides and the matter is settled.

  The nursery is painted in the palest pink and white. The crib and dressers are dark woods and Anna includes a small bed for Clara to sleepover. Clara chose wall art and helped John paint.

  They prepare a room for Anna across the hall from John's. They decorate in calming Wedgewood blue and dark brown reminiscent of their wedding. They choose a bed large enough for two or three or four and a large writing desk. She has started penning some thoughts for a story, fiction only, on this she is adamant. She has an overstuffed chair with an ottoman for nursing or reading or just being alone. John installs a deadbolt high on the door, not because Anna asks him to, but because he wants her to know he understands. Sometimes, she will only feel safe behind a locked door.