I’d like to say that you wouldn’t do the same for me. It would make the pain of losing you much easier, but I know that’s not true. I know the decision you’ve come to wasn’t an easy one. I see it in your eyes. Those beautiful green eyes of yours haunt my dreams and during the day, I’ve come to notice the spark they once held is now gone. Your smile is non-existent. I can see you hurting even if you won’t admit it.
So here it is…
I’m letting you go. I have to do this for you and for me.
Just writing those words makes it almost impossible to breathe, but here I am still moving forward. It’s been months. Months since you’ve looked me in the eyes. Months since you’ve smiled at me. Months since I’ve held your hand in mine. Months since I’ve felt your lips pressed against mine. Months since I’ve heard your whispered words of love in my ear. But you should know this.
You are my greatest love. I will never forget you. I will never forget the way you stared at me in English class, or how when I looked at you, you made my breath catch. I will never forget how you’d lift me off the ground when you’d hug me, your strong arms wound tightly around my waist. I will never forget the first time you told me you loved me under the shady oak at our park. I will never forget how you’ve made my life worth living even though you can no longer be a part of it. I will go on from here, remembering a love that no other can match. I will remember the way your eyes sparkled with adoration for me. I will remember the way you smiled at me with so much love.
I will see you in my dreams and remember your love that’s etched into my heart.
I love you,
Dahlia
“What the fuck?” I breathe out in the empty, quiet room.
Holy shit! My father and this unknown woman, Dahlia, were very much in love. Out of all the notes I could have chose to read, why was it this one? I shake my head from side to side, flabbergasted by my discovery. Something happened to make them split. It’s obvious that he hurt her and it had something to do with my grandfather. He was forced to make a decision that he didn’t want to make. He did to me what his father did to him. Neither my father nor myself were allowed to have what we really wanted. I feel bad for my mom, because if she knows about this, about him loving another woman this whole time, I can’t imagine how she must have felt living in a loveless marriage. I don’t even want to think how that would make her feel. Him keeping this letter, and obviously reading it from time to time has to mean something. But if she doesn’t know about Dahlia, then maybe it would be okay to keep her in the dark. There’s no point in hurting her more when it’s not necessary. Looking at this in a new light, the difference between my father and myself is that I have what I’d wanted back in high school, now.
I’d ask my mom about this love affair my father had for a woman that he couldn’t have. But with her delicate state, I’m afraid it may send her into a nervous breakdown. To my mother, my father was her greatest love. And now she’s lost him. Mentioning it to her now seems pointless.
Right?
I’d ask my mom about this letter, but I’m sure if she would have known I’d like to think that she’d say something, anything. But at the same time I have to think that she’d like to pretend it wasn’t real. There is no way I’d stand by and keep quiet, knowing my wife was in love with another man our entire marriage. I wouldn’t be able to live that kind of lie. Like this letter, this woman found my father to be her greatest love. My mother is no different. She loved my father regardless of his sins and shortcomings.
I stuff the contents back in their box and slide it back in the drawer where I found it. I don't know how to feel about all of this. As I lean back in my father’s chair, rocking back and forth with my tiptoes, I stare at the wall ahead of me. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. I want to forget everything and go back to the moment Karmen was wrapped in my arms before my mother called. I want to go back to the happiness I felt even though I know it can’t happen now. The pain won’t go away by itself. My mind won’t let me forget all the bad. My heart won’t…
“Brayden, honey? There you are.” My mother’s voice pulls me back to the present. She stumbles into my father’s office and falls back into one of the wing-backed chairs. My put together mother is a hot ass mess, but who am I to judge?
“Mom? You okay?” I ask. I get up to assist here but am no better than she is. My legs can hardly carry my weight and my vision is askew.
She waves her hand in the air and hiccups. “I don’t want to go to the funeral tomorrow.” Her black slacks are wrinkled, the front corner of her gray silk blouse hangs out of the waistband. The top two buttons of her top are undone and her hair sticks up in different directions. The makeup she applied earlier is smeared and coming off.
I take a second to gain my bearings, walk over to her, and lift her dainty frame in my arms. She cradles her wine bottle to her chest, her grip holds the neck of the bottle while her other arm hangs limp, swinging back and forth with every step I take. She nestles her head into my chest as I carry her up the stairs and to her room.
“I know you don’t, but we have to go… we need to go. We need to say goodbye,” I reply softly.
“You know when I was a kid my dad, your grandfather, told me it’s never goodbye, it’s always ‘I’ll see you later.' Do you wonder if that’s true? Like Heaven and Hell? Purgatory?” Her last few words come out as a slur.
I don’t know what to say to her. I think there’s a special place in Hell for people who abuse children. I can’t see how my father would make it past the pearly gates of Heaven with all of his sins. But then again what do I know? Who knows, maybe I’ll see my father again, maybe I won’t.
“I think we all end up where we should, Mom.”
“You really are a good son. You know that?” she yawns.
I lay her on the same bed she shared with my father. Instead of sleeping on the side that is normally hers, she slides over to my father’s empty spot and snuggles into his pillow. “It still smells like him,” she cries. “But he’s not here.”
I walk around the bed and perch on the edge. I rub soothing circles on her back as her shoulders shake with grief.
“Eventually, it won’t smell like him, and then what will I have left, Brayden? How am I supposed to walk around this house without his ghost following me? How am I supposed to move on when I don’t want to forget him?”
I take a deep breath and swallow back the tears that beg to break free. “You don’t forget him by moving on. The two of you built a life together. You’ve had two children together. You were married for thirty years. There’s no way to forget that.” Lord knows I’ll never forget him, but I keep that to myself. Instead, I tell her what she needs to hear. “You treasure his memory. You treasure all the good times. You look forward to that ‘I’ll see you later’ grandpa would say.”
Her hand finds mine and she pats it. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.” I lean down and place a tender kiss on her temple. “Get some rest, okay?” My last words go unheard because she’s already sleeping.
“Hey. How are you doing?” Startled, I look to see Chelsea beside me.
The funeral was beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. At first when Brayden had mentioned it to me, I didn’t think he’d want me to attend with him. Then he surprised me by not only demanding I be there but also asking me to sit next to him in the front pew. The church was packed with people who remembered Mr. Stephens. They had nothing but nice things to say. I knew different. I’d seen the evidence of his handiwork left on Brayden. But I said nothing and gave all the support I could to the man who needed me most.
I lean against the doorframe looking out at a forlorn Brayden. Sitting on the top step of the stone veranda, his suit jacket hangs open as he rests his elbows on his bent knees, sipping from the silver flask in his left hand. The soft brown locks that I love so much are disheveled from his fingers running through it too much. Drew sits next to him, but I can tell that neit
her of them can find the words to say anything. I have never actually felt my heart ache for someone, other than in these past few days.
During the funeral, I thought Brayden’s mom was going to lose it. Under the circumstances, I was surprised to see her so put together. Our introductions were brief where she really didn’t even acknowledge me. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek chignon, her black dress was wrinkle free, and her make was done immaculately. Besides her red, puffy eyes and the way she worried the handkerchief in her hands, she seemed to take the funeral as well as a grieving widow could.
She’s nowhere to be found now that we’re back at the home she shared with her husband for the reception. People mill about, sharing tales and memories about a man I’ve never met. They’ve recalled the man he was and the legacy he left behind. I’ve heard them mention how he was a ruthless businessman yet treated his wife like gold. They raved on and on about how he never missed one of Brayden’s football games, and how he was so proud when his son signed with the NFL. For some reason, I think they only saw the image he portrayed and not the man beneath. The real man who ruled his home with an iron fist, taught his son lessons with his belts and words filled with hate.
I lift one of my shoulders in a shrug and give her a sad smile. “As good as to be expected, I guess,” I answer looking back out at the man I love.
“How’s he doing?”
I look at her when she nods towards Brayden.
I heave a deep sigh. “Not good. But he won’t talk to me so I can’t really tell you either way.”
“It’ll get better. I can’t imagine losing my father. And so suddenly at that. He’ll get through it though.” She’s trying to reassure me everything will be better, but I’m not sure if I believe her.
“He’s pushing me away,” I whisper.
“Oh, Karmen.” Chelsea wraps me in a hug, and I return the gesture. “I’m sure he just doesn’t know how to deal with everything.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I pull back and look back at her. Her face lights up with a comforting smile.
“That man out there.” She cocks her head in Brayden’s direction. “He loves you.” I shake my head, negating her statement. “Yes, he does. Trust me.”
“I love him. But at the same time I don’t know how to help him.”
Chelsea takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “Give it time, okay? Don’t give up on him.”
I look out towards Brayden before looking back at her. “Thank you.”
She chuckles and waves off my words. “I should be saying that to you.”
My brow furrows as I tilt my head in confusion. “Why?”
Chelsea bites her lip, and I watch her eyes flicker over to Brayden and Drew. “Because you forgave them even when you had every reason not to.”
Recognition hits me when I repeat what she’s just said to myself. My eyes go wide and my mouth is agape. I’m sure I look like a fish out of water. “Drew told you.” It’s not a question because I know there is no other way she’d know what happened while we were in high school unless he told her.
Her lips purse and she nods. “Yeah. But what I’m trying to figure out is why when I asked if you guys knew each other you never said anything.”
I swallow because I don’t want it to seem like I lied to her, but in a way I did. “I’m so sorry I never told you, but you have to understand, I didn’t feel like it was my place to say anything. You’re his wife and I didn’t want to ruin the image of the man you’re in love with.”
She looks at me for a second and asks, “Are you upset that he told me?”
I shake my head. “No. When we were over at your place for the barbecue I kind of had the feeling Drew was thinking about saying something to you about all of it, but I didn’t care either way. It’s all in the past now.”
Chelsea reaches out and puts her hand on my forearm. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry for what they did to you. I also think you’re very brave, strong and courageous for giving them both another chance.”
“Well I don’t know about all of that, but as far as what they both represent where my past is concerned, I’ve put it all behind me. There’s nothing for me to do but move on from it.”
“You about ready to go, babe?” Lost in our own conversation we didn’t notice Drew’s approach. He slips his arm around his wife’s waist and kisses her temple.
“Sure,” she answers then directs her question towards me. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I am. Thank you both for coming. I know it means a lot to Brayden to have your support.”
“We’ll be here for him any way we can,” Drew answers. “Do you have your phone on you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I left it in my car.”
Drew reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Give me your number and I’ll text you mine and Chelsea’s. If you need anything, please let us know. I know how Brayden can be, and I know his pride tends to get the best of him.”
I rattle off my phone number and Drew jots it down in his phone.
He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Brayden doesn’t like to accept help so, just don’t give up on him. He’ll get through this.”
“Thanks, guys,” I say and pull each of them into a hug.
As Chelsea and Drew make their way through the house to leave, I leave my sanctuary of the threshold and make my way out of the back of the house. A nice breeze sweeps through the backyard carrying with it the scents of jasmine and gardenias from the gardens on either side of the veranda. I sweep my dress underneath me before sitting next to Brayden. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence and although it hurts me, I don’t say anything. The silence between us is suffocating. I don’t know how to fix it.
“Do you think your mom will want me to help her clean up?” I ask not looking at Brayden. Instead, my gaze is trained out of over the impeccably manicured lawn.
He scoffs at my question. I turn my eyes on him as he waves out at the area before us. “Do you see all of this? Do you think my mom is going to clean anything up herself?”
His words wound me and internally I wince, but I hide it from him. “It was just a question.”
“Yeah well, my mom is dealing with her own problems right now. She’s not going to clean anything. I’m sure she’s already hired a company to take care of the mess.”
“How are you dealing…with everything?” I ask, softly.
“Is that what you’ve been waiting to ask me, Karmen? Don’t think I haven’t seen the wheels turning in your head all day.”
My hands clench into fists in my lap at his condescending tone. “Yes, it is. You don’t have to be a jackass about it. Why wouldn’t I be worried about you?” I turn to him, angling my knees to touch his. “I love you, and to be honest you’re kind of scaring me.”
Brayden breathes out a deep sigh, leans forward on his knees and puts his weight on his elbows. He takes a long pull from his flask. “I’m sorry.” The words are soft, barely decipherable, but I would have heard them a hundred yards away. “I know I haven’t been myself. I guess I can’t seem to wrap my head around everything.”
I place my hand on his forearm and he looks at me. The anguish behind his heartbreaking green eyes makes my breath catch. “Talk to me,” I plead. My other hand comes up to the center my chest. “Don’t push me away. Please.” Removing the hand on his forearm, I cup his stubbled cheek in my hand. “Let me be here for you.”
The skin around his eyes crinkles as they narrow at me. “Why?”
“Because that’s what love is, Brayden. You let other people in. You let them help carry your burdens and worries. You let them be strong for you when you can’t. You let them help soothe away your pain when it becomes too much.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes. “Can’t you see? I want to be all of those things for you. My shoulders are strong enough to bear the weight of your troubles. The love I have for you can help alleviate the pain I see behind your eyes just by being here for you. But you have t
o let me.”
He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to carry anyone’s issues on your shoulders. You don’t think I see you hurting because of me? I do. And I know it’s not fair to you. My pain can’t be mollified, it can only be dulled down to a low roar. I know you want me to let you in, Karmen, but trust me, this is the only way I know how to deal with things.” In the air, he lifts his flask and waves it at me.
“So that’s it then? Your Jameson over me? You think your whiskey can heal you? Well, guess what, it can’t. Just ask my father. Oh yeah…you can’t because he’s dead, too.”
Brayden sneers at me, his stare holding mine, as he takes a swig from his flask. The tears from earlier that I held back now slip free. My lips press into a hard line. I will myself not to break down in front of him. If he slapped me in the face, it wouldn’t hurt near as much as what he’s just done. He’s left me speechless. It’s the biggest fuck you he could ever give me.
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