I stop abruptly when I see Carter standing there. She's thinner than I remember and wearing absolutely no make-up. Her face is pale and tight with dark shadows rimming her eyes. Her blonde hair is cut short and it reminds me of a time when she used to wear her hair that same way. A time when life was worth living.
Stuffing a hand in my coat pocket to fight the cold, I take a breath and walk toward her. Her body stiffens when I reach her and I know my presence is not only unexpected, it's unwelcome. I marvel at times how quickly our relationship disintegrated to nothing. We were once so happy it seemed nothing could shake our bond. Looking back, I know how wrong I was. How wrong we both were.
"I didn't think you'd be here," I tell her softly. She nods in understanding. I haven't seen much of her since the divorce. To be honest, I haven't seen her at all. It was intentional on her part, while I sought her out, reaching for a comfort I have yet to find in anyone but her.
"Today is his birthday," she replies, looking down at his grave. I follow her gaze and looking down at the headstone stills my breathing. The carved lettering of our son's name is foreign to me, as if some part of me won't acknowledge that it's real. After four years without him, the world is still void of any meaning.
I steal a quick glance in her direction and see her left hand wipe away a falling tear. A shimmer of gold flashes before me and I notice the wedding band she still wears. A glimmer of hope, I think silently to myself.
"You still wear it." My tone is not accusatory, not seeking the answers I need to keep going. Answers that I needed when she stole my world away with mere words. My voice remains calm somehow, despite the swirl of emotions I'm feeling.
She hesitates, not bothering to look down at the ring. "I can't bring myself to take it off."
The inflection of her voice changes and I know she has just lied to me, although for what reasons or why I'm not sure. I lift my own hand to look at my wedding band. In spite of the years apart, I have never taken it off. Late nights at bars are spent showing women the only piece of jewelry I wear, clearly stating that I'm not interested in what they have to offer. It sickens me that I still pretend we're together, that I pretend I'm still married to her when it's evidently over.
"It would be finally admitting we're over," I reply.
"We are over. Two and a half years now," she whispers.
"Over," I reiterate, twirling the gold band, hoping that maybe this time, the words sink in.
She lifts her head and meets my eyes. For a few moments, I could remember a lifetime of happiness with her. Her gaze waivers and she looks away. And I know she's trying to fight the sadness she feels. She's trying to fight the sadness she sees in my eyes as well, knowing that she can't help me. No matter how much I want her to.
We were both drowning, except now she's treading water while I'm swallowing mouthfuls, hoping for a gleam of light to break the surface of the murky water and save me. When we were together, it was a constant struggle with moments of pure, sweet air and moments where I could hardly take a breath.
I want her to save me. I want to erase the look of defeat on her face I saw over two years ago and tell her that this time, I'll try harder. I won't disappoint her.
"I miss you," I say and her flinch is all the answer I need. The smell of alcohol on my breath has probably reached her and even though I didn't know it was possible, the distance between us is larger, insurmountable. The intense silence is deafening as I wait for her answer. What she says next both surprises and crushes me.
"I'm sorry." I don't know why I expected my words to be echoed. Although I know the words are a merciful rejection, I reach for her hand anyway. I'm surprised by the warmth of her touch and rejoice when she doesn't pull away from me. I know it's a fleeting moment, but I need the comfort on today of all days.
We stand in awkward silence and I can tell by the rigidity of her posture and the flaccidity of her hand that she doesn't want to be here with me. Swallowing fiercely, I allow her hand to drop from mine. I can't stand the dull look in her eyes or the life that has seeped from her body. My touch used to elicit thousands of emotions, but now the blank stare she hits me with is enough to break what's left of my heart.
I know it's wrong.
I knew coming here today was wrong. When I reach for her at this moment, I know it's wrong. When my body is against hers, I know it's wrong. When I lower my mouth and place it gently over hers and her lips don't move, I know.
But I need this. I need her. I need to taste something else besides alcohol on my lips, or desperation in my mouth. I need the momentary breath only she can provide from the suffocation of my reality. Even though I know salvation is brief and I'll soon be going under the tidal wave again.
When I've had my fill, when my lungs can no longer take in air, I release her from the kiss. I do have to release her. While I know she didn't attempt to push me away, she didn't want this. Her eyes are dead and sullen, as if my actions meant nothing to her. And they do mean nothing to her. She allowed me to use her, knowing I needed her, but as soon as she leaves...she'll never look back. She'll never think of me again.
It's at that second I grasp her hand and look at the wedding band, suddenly filled with the determination to find out why she would lie to me. I inspect the piece while she says nothing; she only blinks when I realize why she hesitated in the first place.
I swallow and check again. Her wedding band is thinner than the one I wear, a little brighter. As if it's only been worn for a short time.
She nods, answering my silent question. Pulling the world out from under my feet.
Tires crunch on the small pathway in the cemetery, disrupting the moment between us. We both turn to the car heading in our direction. The black SUV stops and Sam pulls from my grasp. The stranger behind the tinted windows is faceless to me and for now, I think that's best.
Without a sound, she starts to back away. Tentatively, she turns back to me. "Good-bye, Jack."
I nod and watch her walk away. Her feet slowly carry her away from me, leaving me standing alone in front of his grave. When the door closes, the sound echoes in my ears. When the car disappears from sight, I take a long, deep breath. A breath I've been waiting four years for. It's the last breath I take before the waters surround me.
Because she's gone.
Because now I'm drowning again.