A Little Bit of Everything Lost

by Stephanie Elliot

  Marnie tried to wipe at her eyes but she couldn’t stop sobbing.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you like I should have been, and I’m so very sorry that such a horrible thing happened to you, in college and this past summer.”

  He held her as she wept in his arms and tears fell from her eyes until she could not cry any longer. Stuart whispered to Marnie that she wasn’t to be blamed for any of it, and that he was so sorry they couldn’t have their baby girl, and so sorry that they had lost her, and that when the time was right, they could try for another baby.

  They would try together, on their terms.

  Together.

  Chapter Seventy

  December 2004

  By now, Marnie was used to the dogs barking when she rang Sarah’s front door. What she didn’t expect this time was Joe answering the door.

  “Hey there, Mar.” She still couldn’t get used to seeing that smile. He hadn’t shaved, and she wondered what it would feel like to reach up and touch the stubble on his chin. He had on worn Levi’s with natural rips in the knees, not the manufactured kind, and a gray T-shirt that was all kinds of right tight. Marnie caught herself looking away, which made Joe smile even more. His bare feet even looked sexy because they were unexpected in the freezing cold December temps.

  “Not looking for me?” he asked.

  “Not really,” Marnie said, trying to gain composure, glad she had worn her dark jeans, a crisp white button-down that fit her well, and her red Anne Klein pea coat. Heels. She always felt her confidence boost when she was three inches taller.

  “Where’s Sarah?” Marnie tried to sound casual.

  “Sarah took the kids to the movies.”

  “Oh. Should I come back?”

  “Nah, she left the check for the photos. All good. Come on in. You look great by the way.”

  “A little too late for that.” She laughed, and moved past Joe, her shoulder brushing against his chest.

  Dear God, did I just do that? Holy crap.

  “Good one, Mar,” Joe laughed. “And yeah, we still have a lot of catching up to do.” Joe closed the door behind them. “I wanted to call you yesterday actually, but then Sarah told me you were stopping by today.”

  Marnie did want to talk. She wanted to get everything out in the open. She had to do it. It was now or never. She had loved this man. With everything that she was. It hadn’t mattered that she was only nineteen at the time. She was a person, she was a woman, with passion and feelings and hopes and she had loved him with everything that she was. Then. And yes, she had been scared to tell him that. It hadn’t mattered that she was just a young woman then. He had been her first love. They had experienced so much together.

  Maybe he had loved her too, as much as she had loved him. Now was her chance to find out.

  If he wanted to talk, to share the truths of everything that was then, well, she was ready to hear it. And he needed to hear what she had to tell him. Stuart had said he wouldn’t have wanted to know. But maybe Joe would want to know. Either way, she was going to tell him. Marnie didn’t know how he would react, but she had to get it out. She had to tell him. For her own self, so she could finally feel free and get on with her life, wherever it may be heading, she had to set those truths free. Marnie knew Joe had some of his own truths he needed to share with her too.

  “So,” Marnie said, and she touched that stubbly cheek she had been dying to touch. It was softer than she had expected, and she inhaled the smell of him, that smell that even after so long, she knew so well. “Start talking.”

  **

  “What do you remember last?” Joe asked.

  “I’m a woman. There’s nothing ‘last’ about it to remember. I remember everything. What about you? I’m sure your perspective is different than mine.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not so much.”

  They sat in the great room in Sarah’s house. Marnie would have much preferred a less cozy place, like the kitchen, across from each other, having tea, or the dining room, with its big fancy table, the huge chandelier looming above, with the buffet behind them, and the decorative runner acting as a divider.

  Instead, they were on the leather couch, and Marnie had her right leg tucked under her, and her body was shifted so she could look at Joe, look right at him, as he told his fifteen-year-old story to her.

  She had waited and wondered for so long and was ready to hear all of it.

  “So, you remember me telling you our families had been very close our whole lives, and then Trina’s father had passed when we started school again that year.”

  “Sophomore year. Yes.”

  “The summer I met you. By the way, by far, best summer of my life.”

  Marnie didn’t say anything. But her mind did that thing, played that movie that lived in her head, showed the reel from her life that she kept there. The snippets of her time with Joe, those moments from that summer and winter break that she had in there.

  She went away for a moment, remembering.

  “Marnie?”

  “I’m just remembering,” she admitted.

  “I do that too,” Joe said. “Especially the pier. And our last night together, in your dorm.”

  “It’s kind of sad.”

  Joe reached for her hand, but Marnie moved away.

  “Don’t.”

  “When we went back to school first semester, and I didn’t call you, I had told you that part, Trina’s dad died. I came home for the funeral and she went off the deep end. I felt I had to be there for her and her mom.”

  “I know all of this.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. So then, when Christmas break came, she was seeing a therapist, and I figured she was getting better, and I hadn’t seen her. I broke things off with her then, in late November. I wanted to be with you. That’s when things were really great with us. Weren’t they?” He looked at Marnie, hopeful, as if it would have made a difference this far down the road.

  “Weren’t they? Good with us. That winter break?” he asked again.

  Marnie looked at him, and she felt the onset of tears. “They were. They were really good.”

  He stopped talking, and looked into Marnie’s eyes. She took in his face, and those hazel eyes she used to know so well. His eyes. She remembered how he used to look at her like she was everything to him.

  “Trina got pregnant after her father died.”

  “What?”

  “The one time, and I swear to you, the one time we were together after her father died, and I told you we were together, she got pregnant.”

  Marnie’s heart began to beat faster and she felt like it was going to erupt in her chest. Her throat went dry and the life she thought might have been hers flashed before her eyes.

  The life Trina stole from her.

  “I need some water.”

  Joe made a move to get up, but then Marnie held her hand up, touched Joe’s sleeve. “Wait.”

  He sat back down.

  Marnie looked at him. Back into those eyes. “You stayed with Trina because she got pregnant?”

  “That’s the only reason.”

  Marnie tried to control her breathing, and she placed her hands alongside the couch to steady herself.

  “She got pregnant, and she didn’t tell me until it was too late to do anything. Actually, she went to my parents first and told them. She had it all planned out. She had my parents and her mom come with her to school to tell me the news. That was early February, after I went to see you that last time. She was already well into her second trimester. We stayed together for the baby. My daughter, Ashley, she was at the photo shoot. You saw her. She’s the only reason I ever stayed with Trina, I want you to believe me.”

  “Joe.”

  “What?”

  “I was pregnant with your baby too.”

  This time, when Joe went for Marnie’s hand, she let him take it. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a long time.

  Finally, Joe said, “Marnie. When?”

&
nbsp; Tears were coming fast now, and Marnie didn’t care. All the emotions from the past fifteen years were in the forefront now, and it was time to let it all out.

  “I got pregnant that summer. I found out first semester. When you never called.” Marnie felt nineteen again. Scared and vulnerable and so, so very sad. She didn’t want this sadness again. But she needed to share it with Joe, so he could understand the pain she had kept to herself, so he could take a part of that pain that was his so she wouldn’t have to bear so much of it alone. So she didn’t have to keep it all to herself forever.

  He didn’t say anything, so she started talking.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I waited for so long. For as long as I could. Hoping you would call. I wanted you to help me. I prayed you would call me.”

  “I wanted to call,” he said, shaking his head back and forth, “if only I would have known.”

  “I aborted our baby.”

  The words. Out loud.

  Our baby.

  “Oh Marnie. Oh God. Mar.”

  And then, because she didn’t know what else to do, and because she felt like maybe he understood, because he did have a child, because he had had feelings for her back then, and they had cared for one another, she reached for him and he held onto her, and hugged her while she cried.

  Her guilt rose to the surface and spilled over. She felt all of the emotions of that day again. She mourned the young girl she was, and she cried for the history of the two of them and what they had shared together. She cried for the baby she never got the chance to nurture, know and love, for the birthdays missed, and she wept for the person he or she would have become.

  Joe held onto her and let her cry, telling her that it was okay to let it go. He told her how sorry he was, and that it wasn’t her fault. She cried at the thought of them being parents together. She cried for all of the what-ifs in life that had been altered because of her choice. She cried fearing that the abortion had caused her to lose her baby daughter five months earlier, and she cried in fear that she may never have another baby to love.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you call?” he whispered.

  “I called once. Your grandmother thought I was Trina.”

  “Oh Mar,” he said, still holding her. “I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe this happened to you. And you were all alone?”

  “Collette was with me.”

  Marnie shook herself gently from him and wiped at her tears. Joe grabbed a box of tissues on the table behind him, and handed a few to her.

  “You could have told me at Christmas?” Joe said. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

  “I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t. It was already over. I was getting better, trying to forget about it. And then, I was afraid if you knew, you would leave again. Turns out you did anyway.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Marnie wishing he would say something. When he didn’t, she said, “I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. It’s just the way our lives turned out,” Marnie said sadly.

  “I guess so,” Joe said glumly. “I never wanted to be with Trina. It was always you I thought of in the middle of the night. When I would rock Ashley to sleep, I wondered about you. Who you were with, what you were doing? How I could have messed up my life so badly.”

  “I’ve thought about you too.”

  “But your life now. Your marriage? You’re happy?” Joe asked.

  “Yes. I guess. No, I am happy. I am. I’ve had a really rough year though. I love my husband. I love my boys. I would do anything for my boys. Five months ago I had a stillbirth. I lost my daughter, a baby girl. It messed me up. I started thinking more about the abortion because of losing my baby. And in turn, about you. I’ve felt tremendous guilt from it. I should have told you, but I was so young, so scared. I should have asked you what to do when it happened. I wanted to ask you. I should have been brave.”

  “You were more than brave. To go through that all alone, so young. You were so brave. For the record, back then, I honestly don’t know what I would have done if you would have told me you were pregnant. Our parents, well, Trina chose for me. I think if Trina wasn’t in the picture, if it was just you and me to make the decision and you came to me and told me you were pregnant, well, I think you did the right thing.”

  On the one hand what Joe said made Marnie sad. To get the knowledge that Joe really wouldn’t have wanted to be a parent with her. Even though he had become a parent with Trina. On the other hand, it gave Marnie some hope, a bit of reassurance to know that after all of these years, maybe she had made the right decision, on her own, all along.

  Still, she didn’t feel so peaceful.

  She felt completely, utterly spent.

  She felt emotionally exhausted.

  She settled back onto the couch and sighed.

  “Do you remember that night I told you I loved you?” Joe asked Marnie.

  Marnie shook her head. “You never.”

  “Yes. I did. We were lying in your bed, and even though I know we were drunk, I remember this. It was the day we went to Omega. Come on, you have to remember that day?”

  She managed a small, sad smile.

  “We went back to your house. The Cure was playing. God, I still think of you every time I hear a Cure song. I told you I loved you. I never told any other girl I loved her. I tried to tell you again that last night we were together in your dorm, but the words didn’t quite come out the way I wanted them to.” His expression softened, “I wish I hadn’t been so scared back then. But the funny thing was I acted like I wasn’t. I acted like I knew everything. I wish I had told you that I loved you more when I had the chance. When I had all the time in the world to do so. Because I really did. I should have told you all the time.” He paused. “Maybe it would have changed the course of things.”

  This broke Marnie. To hear this now, when she was already so fragile. She couldn’t take it. She looked at Joe, and he touched her gently on her arm. She began to sob again.

  “Don’t do this to me now,” she said. “Not now.”

  “God, how I wish you weren’t married. I wish we had more time to be how we were. What I wouldn’t give to kiss you again, to be with you again. To have another chance. To love you like you deserve to be loved.” Joe put his head into his hands and leaned onto his knees.

  Marnie grabbed her elbows and rocked herself on her side of the couch, still crying, emotionally sucker-punched at what Joe had admitted.

  It was everything she would have wanted to hear and nothing she would have ever wanted to know. But he was wrong.

  She was loved like she deserved to be loved.

  By Stuart.

  Her husband loved her, and she loved him. She had precious children. None of whom she wanted to hurt. She couldn’t hurt any of them for memories of the past.

  She got her answers. More answers than she had hoped for.

  Joe would have never wanted to have been a father if given the choice back then.

  He wanted her now. This very moment.

  He had loved her, he told her so, and maybe could love her now even.

  That was more than enough to know. Maybe it was too much. Maybe she didn’t need to know so much.

  Maybe it was all too painful.

  She needed to breathe.

  She needed to get out of there.

  She stood up, touched Joe gently on the top of his head, and he looked at her, his hand on his chin, that gorgeous face with such sad hazel eyes. She knew she would always love him, that she had a history with him, but not a future. Not now. Her future was at home, waiting for her.

  He reached his arms out and wrapped them around her knees, placing his head there. Marnie lifted his head, with both hands, touching the soft stubble on his cheeks. She closed her eyes, and remembered.

  She remembered the two of them, and their history of their first love. It was not something that she could easily forget.

  Then she opened her eyes and looked down at Joe.

>   “I loved you,” he said. “I really did. I wish I told you then. I wish you knew it then.”

  **

  After she left Joe, she went to the carwash. There was a long line, so she leaned her head back on the headrest and let the sun hit her face while she waited for the cars in front of her.

  What happened back there?

  She sat for a minute as the sun washed over her. She felt still. Motionless. She didn’t want to move. Maybe for the rest of her life. But that didn’t make any sense. Because she did what she had to do. She put it all out there.

  She moved the Odyssey forward and gathered up Lego pieces, old receipts, McDonald straw wrappers and Happy Meal toys from the floor. Her life.

  Why am I cleaning out my van? My life has been a mess and I’m cleaning out my van.

  Get your shit together Marnie. Start with the inside of your van, then fix the rest.

  She put the van in drive and moved forward a bit. Marnie took a deep breath and filled her lungs to capacity.

  That’s what I need. Air. To start breathing again. To start living again. My life. Not my nineteen-year-old life. That’s over. I’ve got to live my life now. Whatever it’s bringing me. Wherever I’m headed.

  The grungy teenager working the car wash motioned for Marnie to pull into the carriage of the garage, and as she did, she checked to make sure all her windows were up. Her soul hurt, she ached from all the crying, from all the emotions that had passed through her body. She felt hollow, but also refreshed, like she had just had a good cleaning herself.

  The car wash was dark inside, and quiet, and strangely, it soothed her.

  The grungy kid moved to the right side of her van with the hose gun, and aimed. Marnie noticed his pants were slung low, and his boxers hung over the waistband. She couldn’t imagine Trey or Jeremy this age, ever.

  Droplets splashed across the front window, creating a protective shield of water. Marnie turned on the radio – something from the Counting Crows came on – A Murder of One? When had she stopped listening to music?