Disclaimer: Mine! ...No, wait... still not.
Chapter 10: April/May 1988
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Philip gave me paid leave—all the sick and vacation time I had built up and never taken… and when it was over, I returned to work, on time every day, efficiently processing every scene and going through the evidence meticulously… but I didn't talk, and I didn't allow myself to lose myself in the work—I didn't deserve any relief, any distraction… I continued to work only because we needed my income, for Amber.
I went through the motions with her too, which wasn't fair—I had loved her just as much as Joshua. If it had been her, instead, I don't think I would have been able to be an active father to Joshua either. I shut down, forcing myself to simply function each day—breathe, eat, sleep, make sure Laura's okay, play with Amber, work. As long as my obligations were taken care of.
Laura sobbed for weeks, and she couldn't understand why I didn't… why, when I had to go back to work, I did so wordlessly and effortlessly and silently. I couldn't explain myself, and she would sob more, screaming to banish me from her room. But she was dealing with it, more than me. When she began to function again, though it took several months longer than myself, she was functioning because it's what she could handle—not because she wasn't handling anything.
Christmas came and passed, my mother came and left several times, trying to help us… They said he'd died of SIDS. It meant that they had no fucking idea what had killed him—random, unexplainable, nothingness. Months passed… winter passed… It wasn't until it was too late that I allowed myself enough awareness of the people around me to realize that, though I'd already lost everything, I was somehow losing more.
The lease on our apartment was up the last day in April. Laura approached me, forcing me to look her in the eye for the first time in months. She and Amber were going to move… she had an aunt in Boston who had offered to let them stay until they got on their feet, and she even thought she could help Laura get a teaching job there. I was confused—telling her that even though she had a job here… that I probably wouldn't be able to find a job, doing what I do, that paid as well in Boston… and that's when she sighed heavily.
"Gil… We're… we're moving to Boston… without you. Joshua…" Her voice cracked over his name, and tears spilled down her cheeks. "He was the only reason we started living together. We… we're not a family, without him, Gil… I have the next week off, and I'm going to do the packing while you're at work… we'll be out of your hair in a month. Gil… Gil, look at me." She pleaded, and despite my efforts to detach again, she drew me tightly into the center of my pain. "Gil, you can't afford this big apartment by yourself. The lease is up in a month, I put in our notice… Do you want some help apartment hunting?"
I swallow, and slowly shake my head. I didn't sleep for the rest of the month—I worked during the day, watched Amber sleeping at night… and eventually formed some sort of plan in my mind. Maybe if I'd been more aware, less lost in my grief, I could have stopped them leaving… but I knew that was a fruitless effort now. I had no custody over Amber… no way to keep her with me. So I started looking into job openings… in California. L.A. was hiring a CSI level 3, and I sent in an application.
I didn't really expect to get the job—it was a much better position than the one I held here. Though I would be at the same level, with my particular expertise they made me an offer they knew I couldn't refuse—with me on staff, they could put their name behind mine. They wanted me to take part of the year to speak at different colleges, conferences… to be a consult around the country to labs with particularly troubling cases that could be evaluated using an insect timeline… and when I was in L.A., I had a CSI position waiting for me.
I wrote my mother, to tell her I was moving back to the state, and I began my packing too. Laura left me an address and a phone number to where she'd be staying in Boston—I could still talk to Amber, she said. She hadn't made this choice to keep me from her. I stayed in a hotel to finish out my two weeks in Minneapolis, because I couldn't stand to stay in the apartment when it was empty. When I finally boarded the plane, it was with relief to be putting Minnesota behind me.
Graduation
You would think, for how hard I worked for this, that I would be happy. I had finished the last of my AP tests and, though I wouldn't get the results until the end of June, I knew that I had done well. I was graduating with a 4.0… I was sixteen years old, and I was graduating high school. I looked down nervously at the packet that had arrived in the mail today—from Boston. Tyler was coming over to pick me up soon… he wanted to take me out to lunch before I graduated, because Jim and Marlene were making a big meal that night… his parents were even invited over. I felt like I should have been shy about this, but I couldn't bring myself to worry too much… especially not now, with the large manila envelope in my hands.
I read through the papers again—I had already been accepted to Harvard, though it was early… once they'd realized I was sending all my AP scores to them—and once they'd seen the AP scores—someone from the enrollment office had called for me. When I explained that I was graduating early, but that my interest in Harvard depended on financial aid, he helped me with all the necessary applications and had been sending me additional scholarship information since January. I had received the acceptance in March—Tyler and I had had a big fight that night—but the acceptance meant nothing. The package in my trembling fingers was what mattered.
And somehow, though I was happy, I was also sad. As long as I kept a 3.5 GPA, I had a full ride. More than a full ride—what they were offering would cover room and board every year, and then some… It was clear they were trying to sweeten the deal—with my grades, my test scores, my AP Credits, they knew that I could get into any Ivy League… they were competing for me. I should have been ecstatic.
Tyler arrived, and I stood, my graduation gown draped over a hanger in one hand, the envelope in the other. I moved outside, hanging the gown in his backseat, and climbing into the front, the envelope on my lap. He kissed me, smiling, and then frowned at the envelope. As we drove, I caught his furtive glances, but I waited for him to speak first. As we parked, he did.
"So… is that it? The financial aid?"
I nod.
"Can I see it?"
I pass it to him, keeping my eyes on my hands in my lap. He slides the papers out, scanning for the bottom line. He's silent, but it's a more still silence than the quiet of a moment ago, and I know he's found it. I chance a glance, and watch his eyes read and reread one sentence over and over. Then he looks at me, and I know there's so much he isn't going to say.
"That's—" his voice falters, and he swallows hard, a fake smile crossing his face. "That's great, Sara! Amazing… I, uh… I'm so proud of you! Congratulations!"
I bite my bottom lip. "You don't have to pretend you're happy, Ty."
His jaw twitches, and his eyes close. "Let's, uh, let's go inside and… and celebrate! You're… you're going to Harvard!"
He exits the car, slamming the door, and moves to the door of the restaurant, not waiting for me. I get out slowly, tucking the envelope below his passenger seat, and move into the restaurant. He's pacing the entryway, and I'm nervous, hoping he isn't going to yell at me in the restaurant. We're seated a moment later, and I take in a deep, shuddering breath as I force him to meet my eyes.
"…You know that I don't want to leave you."
He looks at the table, like he can't look at me. "Sara, I… we can't talk about this here. I'm going to get upset, and do something I regret… after your graduation, we'll talk about it, okay?"
I nod, and he changes the subject, but it doesn't really change—we have the conversation with our eyes throughout the day.
How could you leave me?
How can you expect me to give up this opportunity?
I thought you loved me…
You know I can't be like my mother…
I'm not your father.
This is my only chance…
After graduation, which is boring at best, though I manage to find him in the crowd and maintain eye contact for most of the ceremony, he finds me, holding me tight and kissing me fiercely, and I feel like maybe we can get through this… maybe we can find a way to make it work. I play out crazy ideas in my head, like using my excess aid to help him pay for college—even if he doesn't go to Harvard, there were other colleges in Boston… Or working a lot, so that every other weekend one of us could fly to see the other…
None of them made a lot of sense, but I could hope, couldn't I?
Dinner was fun—Jim and Marlene were gracious and hospitable, and so I wasn't embarrassed to have his parents there. I was actually happy… it felt like I had a family of my own, almost… I'd never stayed with one couple for so long, after all. And then they left, telling Tyler they'd see him at home later, and we left shortly after—being left to our own devices, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and braced myself for the fight.
It was chilly, but we walked along the beach anyway. It felt like the place we needed to be. His words came softly.
"I don't want to hold you back, Sara… I just can't imagine living without you…"
"Me either… but… Ty, I'm scared that if I don't take this opportunity, I'm… I'm going to end up just like my mom and—"
"I know, Sara, I know." He pulls me to his chest and holds me tightly, desperately. "I know when you're afraid and what you're afraid of, without you telling me… I know you as well as I know myself… better, probably. I would never hurt you like he hurt her."
"I know. I know you wouldn't… but I… I can't let myself be weak enough that, if it happened, I would be stuck. I… can't be stuck, like her."
He looks down. "I guess I thought, with me, you wouldn't be stuck… you'd be happy."
My forehead creases. "Ty, you know that I didn't mean that… It's… it's a vulnerability thing. Even though I know you would never hurt me, I still have to feel like, if you ever did, we're on equal enough footing that I could stop it… You know that it's not about you, it's about me…"
He nods. "I know… it just—this just hurts so fucking much. I do want to hold you back—I want to beg you to stay for me—I want to be enough for you—enough to make you willing to be vulnerable, because you love me that damn much."
He trembles with this confession, and I feel tears building up in my eyes. "I want to be enough that you don't need me to be vulnerable… enough that you believe we can make it work, long-distance, for as long as it takes…"
He pulls away from me, walking again, pacing frantically, and I feel the trails begin down my cheeks. "I… God, Sara, I had this… this crazy idea in my head that… that you wouldn't be able to leave… that you'd get the financial aid and… and just toss it out, telling me that I was so much more important than anything else in your life… that I was your life, like you'd told me so many times… and… and then we could make love for the first time, because we would both know that… that you weren't going anywhere… that we were in this forever."
His words hit me deeply, and the pain of it knocks the breath from my chest, but I'm stubborn, and one point sticks out… "You wanted a sacrifice, on my part, to prove how much I love you… but you're not willing to even talk about sacrifices on your part."
He's frustrated now. "Okay, Sara, I'm sorry, but if you're thinking about our future… I'm the man. I know you hate to hear that, but the fact of the matter is that I can't be without a good job. You can. That's the reality of the world we live in. What happens when you go on maternity leave and we go without the primary income? …I'm sorry, honey, I know you're as smart as anything and that you have these big dreams… but if you were to ask yourself who in our relationship needs the education more, for our future, you'd have to agree with me."
I close my eyes for a long moment, unable to speak for the intensity of the pain that reverberates through me at his words, but I must speak, and so I open my eyes, forcing myself to have more strength now than it took to check if my father was dead when I was seven years old. This will be the hardest thing I'll ever do.
"Ty…" my voice breaks, but I force myself to continue. "I… I can't be with someone who… thinks that the appendage between his legs makes him more worthy of sacrifice… the more sensible choice for the better opportunities. …I can't be with someone who expects me to give up my dreams as a matter of course, or because it's more practical in the long run, so that we can have the children that you know I'm not even sure I want. I can't be with a man who could expect me to be a stay-at-home-mom, but who laughs at the idea of stay-at-home-dads…
"You know, little things you've said that have bothered me… I blew them off. My love for you is so much bigger than the little moments where you've stuck your foot in your mouth. But…" my voice breaks again, and I can see in his eyes that he knows what's coming. "But I know, now, that it isn't a few minor quirks or unconscious lapses in judgment based on how you were raised… it's how you really feel. And… I can't be with you anymore. There's a summer program there that… that I wasn't going to do, even though the advisor I've been talking to says it would be really good for me, because we needed the summer to figure out how to make our relationship work, long distance, but… um, I'm… I'm going to take it. I have enough excess aid to afford it, and I… I just lost the only reason I wanted to stay."
I walk home that night, and consequently don't get home before my curfew. Jim is angry, and Marlene is simply worried, but from the tears still not dry on my cheeks and the slump in my shoulders, they let it go, this once, and I move to my bedroom in silence. Once there, I collapse on the bed and into my misery—into a pain like I have never known—and I don't move from that spot for the next three days, no matter how often he calls or comes over to see me. I have been deceived, by the only person I had trusted since before I could remember, and I was done.
