"Baby says I can't come with him
And I had read all of this in his eyes
Long before he even said so
'Why go?' I asked
You know and I know why."
~Rachael Yamagata, "Quiet"
Now
Here's the thing: I'm not, nor have I ever been, mad at you for what happened between us.
There's no way I could be angry over this. You were only following your heart. You were only telling me the truth. If I faulted you for that, I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror. It was why I told you that you shouldn't keep yourself from him on my account. It would have been selfish on my part, and you would have been miserable with the questions of "What if" hanging over your head for as long as we would have stayed together. I'm just sad about it, Grace. That's all. All I've ever wanted for you since the day I met you was for you to be happy, whatever that meant. I'm sad that I wasn't the one that could make you happy. I'm sad that I didn't tell you all the amazing things you've done for me in the course of our relationship, so you wouldn't feel so bad about following your intuition.
I was never mad at you for your actions, just like I was never mad at Stan.
It was more shock than it was anything else. I always figured that with Stan, it would be his infidelity that marked the end, and not mine. Although I did toy around with the idea of telling him about you and me, just to see if he'd react. But even though I was no longer under the rules I had set for myself, I couldn't break the quiet spell, and I let him set fire to the bridge that connected the two of us. What surprised me, once I found out about Lorraine and the affair, was the fact that like the first time I saw him leave my visit at the prison and walk towards those bars, I wanted to go with him; I wanted to overlook everything for just a fleeting moment, because some semblance of my life before our affair had come back, and I foolishly thought that maybe I could find some normalcy. But I saw the look in his eyes when I talked to him. It was the same look I had seen for a long time now, and we both knew that we couldn't keep up the charade.
When I went over to Jack's, sitting outside his apartment as I told him what happened, I couldn't help staring at your front door across the hall. I knew that if it weren't for Jack sitting next to me, I would have pounded on the door, searching for the comfort I used to feel from you. But he noticed my glance, he told me you were off with Leo, that you had gone with him to the Catskills and Will tagged along. I knew he didn't mean to hurt me. But the knowledge that you were off with him, that you were starting to get serious with him, pierced my chest. And of course I couldn't tell him this. He didn't know.
But Will did. I realize that this had to be the reason he kept staring at me during the ceremony. He wasn't silently scolding me for cracking jokes that never came from my lips. He was checking on me, making sure I was alright. That fact alone makes me want to cry for the kindness in him I wasn't expecting.
"Grace didn't tell you that I knew?" Will says to me now. All I can do is shake my head. And before I can think of all the different scenarios in which you spill our secret, he stops my mind and puts me out of my misery. "Right before I went with you to Shelter Island, the two of you were in her bedroom. I just wanted to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but I heard a voice that wasn't Grace's, and let's be honest; your voice is unmistakable. She opened the door and found me in the hallway. We didn't fully talk about until about a month afterward." He stops for a moment, as if he's unsure whether he wants to say what's obviously on his mind. "I thought it was some twisted joke that you were pulling." His voice grows quieter and he hangs his head. "I thought you were messing around with her to get some sort of thrill."
"Well, I was. But it wasn't spiteful at all, Will, you have to believe me." I've never talked to him like this before, not this seriously. It feels like I'm in another world, or at least a dream, but I can feel his hand as I rest mine on top, and I know it's real.
"I know. I'm so sorry that I ever thought that. I…I may have eavesdropped on your phone call with her while we were in Shelter Island. That' s how I knew. There was no way you could say those things, in the way that you said them, without feeling something. I told Grace all of this. I knew what you had been through lately, and I didn't want her to hurt you. I was on your side, I swear."
"I loved her." God, it's so weird now, telling someone how I feel about you. Of course I left out the fact that I still do love you. There's no reason for that, especially considering where we're sitting right now. "I don't want to be spiteful. That's why I'm here, I guess. I'm not trying to prove anything. Although, I have to admit that this is almost unbearable." I laugh sadly, like this is a joke. Like this will be funny someday when I look back on it, when I've moved on. And I probably will move on, but this will never be funny. Will looks at me with a gaze of sympathy, and I want to hate him for it. But honestly, it's all I've been looking for since you left.
"What was it about her? What made you look at her and say, 'Her. I want her.'" Will asks me suddenly. I freeze for a moment, unable to answer. I never had to answer this question before, about anyone. No one ever thought to ask, or if they did, they kept their question to themselves. I could tell him about all the things I witnessed during the night, and believe me, they all contributed to the reason why I want you. Instead, I try to opt for a shorter answer.
"What was it about her that made you do the same, all those years ago? You know, before you truly knew yourself." He knows where I'm coming from. It may have been a gamble to bring up the brief period that he dated you, but I knew it would get to him. I wouldn't have spoken of it if I had any doubt about it. "I don't really have an answer for you," I say, knowing it's the truth, and knowing he will understand. "There was something completely magnetic about her, and I went for it. She was the one who started it in the first place, even though she wasn't quite sure why, and I couldn't give her any reasons. But when she did start it, I knew I was going to go along with it. I wanted to. I couldn't tell you why. But she gave me plenty of reasons along the way."
Before I know it, he puts his arms around me, unable to give me any other kind of response. And where I would normally pull away from him, I relax against his body. "You know," he says, "you could probably sneak out now, if you wanted to. I'm sure Grace wouldn't fault you for it. You don't have to put yourself through any more of this."
"No, it's fine. I'll stay. I got through the worst of it. I do need to get some air, though. I'll be back." I reach for my coat and my purse and make my way out of the reception hall. I have to close my eyes when I finally hit the cold air. I didn't realize how much I needed it, after hours of feeling the hot ball of suppressed emotions and words at the pit of my stomach, the heat spreading all throughout my body. It's funny; this is the first time in a long time that I've ever wanted to be alone.
Fishing for my cigarettes in my purse, I wonder if you ever thought of me while you were with Leo. I realize that he was in your head at the end; I can pretend to be oblivious, but I'm not stupid. But I wonder if you ever looked at him, or talked to him—whether you were across the dinner table, or beside him in bed, or connected by a phone line—and suddenly you found that I had emerged from the dark corner of your mind. Maybe he took you out for coffee (and god, I hope it wasn't in Chelsea, I hope that after that one time he found you there, you never set foot in there with him again), and you thought about all the times we would sit by the window and do all the boldly affectionate things we couldn't otherwise do in public. Maybe you passed by Gray's Papaya with him on the way to whatever it is he had planned, and you remembered the night your emerald dress shone in fluorescent light.
It must have happened once or twice. I'm not hoping that you had doubts about your decision. I knew that you would never have filled me in on what happened if you knew it was going nowhere. I just wonder if you were completely done with me when you walked out my door that night.
I know you're happy, and I know you want this. And maybe that's part of the reason I'm here, too. I know this is what you've been waiting for. And while I didn't want to stand in the way of it, I also didn't want to miss it. Because once this blows over, and I can go back to being your friend—I can go back to feeling your touch without it bringing up the things I don't want to think about—I would have regretted the fact that I wasn't here tonight. You did what you had to do, and there's no way I can be angry at you for that. Lord knows I've done it in the past. And in truth, I did it with you as well. I just didn't realize it until it was over.
There was no way that I would have gotten through Stan's jail time if it weren't for you. I would have been fine with the way it started—a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, a sympathetic drinking buddy who realized I was going through a hard time and wanted to help without being asked—but you gave me so much more than I ever could have asked for. You showed me all the things I was missing while I was married to Stan. You showed me all the things I gave up over time and didn't know how much I missed. That's why I can't be mad at you. That's why I'm still here, Grace. You deserve all of this. I'm not going to let my feelings get in the way of that.
And as if I have summoned you, I jump at the unexpected sound of your voice at my back.
"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. Will said I might find you outside. How long have you been out here?"
God, your smile, the way it lingers long after you've finished speaking. I wish I could give you the same, or at the very least, half of it. I just don't have it in me. I let my cigarette drop from my fingers onto the ground; study my heel as I stub it out. And then I give you the only answer that would be truthful. "Not long enough." You won't leave. I finally found sanctuary, and you won't leave; I'm not sure that I want you to, because in this moment, your smile, the way your hair is starting to fall from the braid and frame your face, all of this is just for me. And just when I think I've given you everything willingly, I hear your voice.
"Can I ask you to do something for me?"
You're good. You know I won't say no to you. And you're right. I could never refuse you.
It's just not in my system.
