Bitter Suite (Companion piece to Hodge's Bar by I'dBeDelighted) .
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"Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light." - John Milton, Paradise Lost
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Two days ago…
"Good bye, Miss Clark…"
Putting her head against the suite's door, she laid a hand on the knob and suppressed a breath while her guest's footfalls receded down the Windsor Hotel's third floor hallway. She exhaled loudly as soon as the sound faded.
Well, that wasn't so bad….
That Miss Clark was willing to accept her invitation, hear her out and then be understanding about her conduct… going so far as to be forgiving, was indeed gracious. She knew that was especially true since answering her first note ended up in being verbally attacked then asked to leave. She laughed sourly at the observation: Miss Clark seemed to have been the better woman!
She pushed the door into the frame, symbolically echoing her words about motherhood being closed to her. Head held high, she moved off into her living quarters towards the lounge and its beverage cart. There, she poured herself a drink and sat, surveying her crystal chandelier, polished round table and sideboard, wondering if this was going to be the limits of her life. How did her world get so small? How did she get so small? She considered her conversations with the people in her orbit over the last few days.
Her tirade at the researcher had been both unfair and untrue, even though it took a while to calm down enough to realize and admit to it. On the other hand, the taste of 'crow' (as Ruby would so colourfully put it) was unpleasant and not as ultimately uplifting as she had hoped. Apologies were not her strong suit, she reminded herself.
She wondered if perhaps it was in granting forgiveness that one felt lighter or cleansed.
…She wondered if she was only good at throwing people out.
Of course Marilyn Clark was not the only person she'd barked at…just the only one she'd tried to make things right with. What in Heaven's Name was wrong with her? Inspector Brackenreid, Inspector McWorthy, even Miss Hart, had had a taste of her irascibility, not to mention how short she'd been with her morgue attendants. Clearing the air today with one person made her feel only slightly better.
She slumped in the chair, swirling the drink in her glass and trying to get her neck and jaw to relax. How did she get here, to be so brittle and defensive? It was not just that awful final argument with William, the thought of which was still nauseating. It was not even the physical or emotional pain of miscarriage. One part of her mind tried to be clinical and detached, something she used to think she was good at. Detachment was certainly necessary in pathology but it also was necessary, to a certain degree in psychiatry in order to be objective… because that very same objectivity was in a death struggle with the other part of her which was an undifferentiated mass of emotion…emotions which stuck everything together, clouding her judgment. What did her father say to her? That he could trust her to put reason above emotion? Bah! There was no evidence of that lately, her emotions see-sawing wildly over the last few months. How did her lust for William flip so completely around into…what?
If she were honest with herself she'd have to admit to all the times in the last few months she behaved badly, belittling William's attempts to cosset her…the flowers, the tonics he brought, the lavender, even that silly tobacco. She was instantly irritated with him and his desire to make plans, about telling others their news, about his efforts to be pleasant or kind. She let more whisky burn down her throat. While she did not possess a memory such as William's, she easily repeated some of their choicest interactions, most of which were all in the same vein: she was angry with him for his opinions if he gave them and frosty with him if she assumed he withheld them. Making faces behind his back, rolling her eyes like a school girl, cutting him off when he wanted to talk. She rubbed her brow, hearing her shrill: "Don't tell me what's for the best!" or "His name should be something other than a verb, noun and future indicative!" or "You are placating me…I am not some silly child…Stop it!"
She cringed at the memory, which only revealed the childishness of her attitude. Why had she been so waspish and contrary? At first she could not get enough of him…then she could not stand him. It started before he got injured, so fear for his welfare or the thought of raising a child alone was not it. Was it expectations? Coming to terms with leaving her work? Being relegated to motherhood? Perhaps it was not really me…not really my feelings?
…Was it just hormones from the pregnancy?
She hoped that was the case, but…was it about feeling judged?
She had a suspicion about the answer, one that was pressing up uncomfortably through her conscience. She tried to take another drink before realizing her glass was empty. She set it down sharply.
As for what she'd said to the inspector earlier about not wanting William back, not wanting her job back: Just how many doors did she really want to slam shut?
Well…there is no one here to judge her now… no one at all in fact…
Damn William Murdoch!
Tears began to flow.
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"…Julia…Losing a child is a terrible thing. I don't care if it's an unborn baby or a fully-grown adult. It's the worst pain that you and Murdoch have had in your lives together. But you'll get through it. Both of you."
"Do you believe so?"
"Yes I do. Take time away from the morgue, of course. But promise me one thing".
"What's that?"
"No letters of resignation today. You're not thinking clearly at a time like this."
"Sometimes crisis brings clarity."
"You might be right. But don't make any decisions that you can't undo…"
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Now…
Words of wisdom- from Thomas Brackenreid.
The frantic, angry energy which propelled her into that travel agency at high speed, packed her trunks and sent off half a dozen telegrams had all drained away now, leaving her hollowed out and trembling so hard she was having trouble writing. There she had been, taking a tentative, small break from the confines of her suite and the lure of the beverage cart. She gave herself a brisk walk in the cold air before settling in for some tea and the company of strangers to soothe her nerves.
And it worked.
The tea was excellent. People were gathered for a break from their lives and some conviviality, and she struck up a conversation with a pair of ladies who were on holiday. She began to relax there, was able to look a little at her pain from a distance…thought that maybe William had a point, could comfort her after all, because that was whose face came to her mind. Satisfied and feeling calm, she'd hoped to head back home with a clearer head.
And then Tom caught me!
Another infuriating man trying to tell me what to do, who thinks I do not know my own mind, who thinks I am rash because as a woman, my judgement is suspect! He had some nerve giving me advice! So I made my decision then and there, booked my way out on the first ship going to France via London. I am all packed with everything I need for as long as my whim desires.
She smoothed the page before her. Now all I have to do is this final letter.
Except she found it impossible to compose her thoughts. She had gone from "William, I am leaving. Don't try to find me," to "Dear William, I am so sorry that we have come to this." Nothing sounded right; nothing spoke her mind.
That clarity she told Tom about was of the self-righteous kind. It took a long while to understand, but eventually she knew she could not really escape the truth: Her behavior was not just the result of hormones.
No. The truth was I'd been unsettled throughout the pregnancy because it reminded me of the first time I was with child, reminded me of the suffering I experienced with the abortion. Reminded me of how I hid everything from my friends, my classmates, my cold, disapproving father. Did not tell the father of the child either….All of that hovered in the back of my unconscious, colouring my reactions to everything. Like a shameful secret….
Physician heal thy self indeed!
I, of all people, should have known I was overreacting. Look at all the people I flared up at lately! I should have known that memories resurface at times like that. I should have known that a miscarriage results in many irrational feelings and fears. I should have known that my passionate defense of Rebecca and of my own actions would be rubbing salt in a deep, deep wound.
She looked up and sighed.
I should have known a lot of things, it seems. William may have left, but I threw him out because I did not want to hear him out. I needed to deflect his point of view, needed to protect myself …and that was not the first time I did that by taking charge or going on the offensive.
She gazed around her suite in the dim light. Well, here I am, about to abandon what had been my happy home….now just an empty set of unremarkable rooms... empty without William.
Oh William! What do I tell you? That I still love you! Do I tell you I will not sacrifice my principles to be your wife? Do I tell you our differences are irreconcilable?
….Or do I want you to come in that door and tell me not to go?
She was studying the blank piece of paper in front of her so hard she almost did not hear the door open…..
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-END-
A/N: I'dBeDelighted had wanted to do an introspection piece from William's POV for some time and finally got around to writing it. When talking to me she found out I had an outline to do one from Julia's POV for that same short window just before they reunited. The final episode showed a lot of William's inner thinking and coming to term with his marriage, but not much of the underpinnings of Julia's change of heart. So…the obvious thing to do was co-ordinate our stories and put them up as companion pieces. Please visit I'dBeDelighted's page for William's POV, titled Hodge's Bar.
Reactions/review hereby solicited. What do you think changes Julia's mind so abruptly? What introspection do you imagine she'd have to do to tear up the tickets and take him back? I'd love to think it was love…William's big dark eyes and open heart, his inability to deny her anything, his desire to have her in his life. Julia stayed around long enough for him to answer this time or he got there in just the nick of time…but instead this time he got to ask her to stay. He never got to do that with all the other women who left him…what do you think?