Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: I figured you guys had suffered through all my sad chapters, so you deserved a little happiness tonight. :)
Also, ff won't let me have words crossed out, so the ones underlined are supposed to be crossed out. Just so you know.
Chapter Eighty Three:
"…I feel like… like I wish we had ended it before we got married. …We could have ended it on good terms and… and looked at our relationship as one of the happiest times in our lives. …Just because I'm in love with him doesn't mean I don't love you, Jace. It's just… it's not the same. …It's not enough."
He swallowed. "…But now… you won't look back and say that… that you were happy with me?"
I smiled softly. "…Believe me, I could never forget how happy you made me, no matter what we do to each other or… or how ugly things have gotten."
"Sara… I, uh… I wanted to tell you… I've been trying for weeks. …Months, really. I… I wrote it all down, it's in this book of poetry in my room. Sara… I…" Another tear slid down his face. "I don't… want you to hate me. Sara, I just… I love you so much. And I… I want—"
And then Gil had knocked on the door, and our conversation had been cut short. I remembered the moment with a jolt of clarity, realizing that I had expected that he would simply finish what he'd been trying to tell me after we found Ayla. And now, I started digging through his collections of poetry, uncertain in which volume I would find whatever he had meant to tell me, but feeling like I absolutely had to find it now. It was like he was reaching back from beyond the grave to tell me something. Ayla started crying, and the desperate look I gave Gil must have spoke volumes because he simply nodded and went to take her while I continued looking through the books, uncertain if I was looking for an envelope or a folded slip of paper or something written directly on a page…
I listened as her cries softened and smiled to myself, thinking how sweet Gil had been with her, and with a jolt of surprise felt an envelope, unsealed, fall out of the book I had just been flipping to. On the outside, in Jace's messy scrawl, was my name. When I turned it over, the words Talking In Bed by Philip Larkin were penned along the bottom. I wasn't certain if they were for me or simply a note for himself, but I turned to the book in my hands and checked the table of contents. The poem was in this book, and located near the end, where the envelope had fallen from. I turned there, pursing my lips, my heart pounding in my chest and my hands starting to shake as I started to read.
Talking In Bed
Talking in bed ought to be easiest,
Lying together there goes back so far,
An emblem of two people being honest.
Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside, the wind's incomplete unrest
Builds and disperses clouds in the sky,
And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why
At this unique distance from isolation
It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind,
Or not untrue and not unkind.
I felt tears stinging my eyes and wiped at them impatiently, feeling like now was not the time to break down. I bit at my bottom lip, thinking of how often in that first year of marriage we had sat in bed silently. It was not the comfortable silence that we had shared more than our number of times… it was the silence of having nothing to say. The silence that hangs between two people who would rather bury themselves in books and magazines they have no interest in rereading for the hundredth time rather than be forced to try to speak to one another. And clearly, Jace had been thinking about that time… he had felt it too. Felt the way it took effort to interact… felt like our love making had been almost contrived, because we both wanted a baby so badly.
I closed my eyes, reminding how prior to our marriage I had felt like he was too busy to attend to my needs and then in the months afterwards, he had seemed to be constantly touching and trying to initiate, to my great annoyance. The first time we made love after our actual wedding night had indeed been months later, and only after a good deal of wining and dining and seduction… He had worked so hard just to get me to allow him to love me.
I felt the tears spill over as the guilt came once again and I dropped the envelope three separate times in an attempt to open it and pull out the paper. The lines of his writing had me crying again and I set the paper down to wipe at my eyes so that I wouldn't smear the ink before I had a chance to read it. Finally, finally, I picked up the piece of paper and looked down at it, my breath coming raggedly. There were many cross-outs and revisions, and yet I blessed each ink blotted correction penned in his heavy hand.
Sara, I'm not even certain what I'm trying to say to you, but I know that it needs to be said. I know that this has gone on far too long. …I know it's going to kill me to actually give this to you—this has to be the fifteenth time I've written it out. But every time, the thought of giving you up makes me tear it up and commit myself to trying harder. Being a better husband and father and telling myself that eventually you'd come around. Jace
I set the letter down, overwhelmed, and wiped at my streaming eyes again, trying to get my bearings and trying to gain control of my senses. I was in complete disbelief that this is what he'd wanted to tell me… that he'd been trying for so long to let me go. That, as much as he was able, he had given his blessing for Gil and I to be happy. I wiped the tears from my hands to my jeans and make an extra swipe at my cheeks for good measure before rereading the letter, feeling myself get lighter and lighter as I did. I still felt guilty that I had been the cause of so much heartbreak before he died, but he had wanted me to be happy… and his dying request had been that Gil make sure Ayla always had a daddy. I breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in days, blinking and glancing around the room, noticing that the colors in the room seemed much more vibrant than they had just moments before.
I leapt to my feet, thinking that I would run to Gil and kiss him… tell him how much I loved him and how sorry I was and… and then what? I'd go to my husband's funeral on the arm of another man? Jace's mother hadn't told any of them the truth about Gil and I or about Gil and her… she kept my secret if I kept hers. I had understood as much intrinsically, when Jace's father had told us what he knew of Gil… but I hadn't put it properly into context. She would have a claim on Ayla as long as Gil and I were together. Not legally binding, as Jace's had been, but still more than I was willing to take. …Unless I could beat her to the punch. …I was going to fight for the family I wanted and Ayla deserved and Jace had tried to provide her on his last breaths.
Gil called that food was here and he was giving Ayla a bath, but I barely heard him. I had thrown on one of Jace's t-shirts and was walking swiftly past their doorway, out of the house, and outside… at some point in the last few days, both Jace and I's vehicles had been returned from the warehouse.
I moved over to mine, realizing with some surprise that the letter and book were both still clutched in my hands. I freed one hand and pulled the door open, reaching under the front seat and finding my keys placed there neatly. I set the letter and book on the passenger seat and took off, belatedly pulling my cell phone out of my pocket and calling Jace's father's number.
"Hello?"
"Are you guys all at the hospital?"
"I… yes. Sara, are you okay?" It must have been something in my voice. I swallowed.
"I'm alright. I'm driving there now… I need to talk to the whole family."
"…Okay, honey. We'll be waiting."
I parked haphazardly, glancing at my reflection and briefly lamenting that I hadn't taken the time to run a brush through my hair—Gil must really love me to still want me when I'd been in this rough of shape for how long. I pocketed my keys and combed through my hair with my fingers. No one spared me a glance when I moved through the lobby to the elevators and pressed the button for the psychiatric ward.
They were all in the little waiting room and looked at me expectantly when I rushed in, knowing that I had to look a sight and yet feeling the power of my certainty drive me forward. They were the only people in the room, except for the nurse at the desk beside the hallway leading back to patients' rooms. I drew in a deep breath and noticed for the first time that the shirt still smelled like Jace. That, too, gave me strength.
"…There's a lot that you guys don't know. …And you have a right to know it, because it affects everything."
They all frowned in confusion and I braced myself. "…When I was only three months pregnant, I wanted to leave Jace. I was going to divorce him."
They all looked surprised, but I kept my eyes on Jace's father—the one member of his family I had always had the best relationship with. The one whose understanding I had needed. He watched me intently, but did not speak… one of Jace's sisters, instead, broke the silence. "Why?"
I swallowed, my gaze flickering to her and then back to the man before me. "…I fell in love with someone else." His eyes crinkled in pain, and I sighed. "But I… as soon as I understood what was going on, I tried to tell him that even though he meant the world to me, the relationship wasn't what I wanted anymore."
"And then he started making the big bucks and you thought you'd stick around?" Another sister asked incredulously. I frowned, but forced myself to be patient.
"No… he blackmailed me into staying. Threatened to take Ayla from me. …Nevermind how." I added, seeing their mouths open in the question. I ran a hand through my hair. "The point of this is… that's who Gil is. I fell in love with him and he did come to help but… but there's more to it than that. When he was here… when Su—Anne… when she got here… they already knew each other."
They looked between each other—Jace's father spoke first. "…How?"
I saw in his eyes that he already knew—they betrayed his sadness, and he had already assessed the age of the man in question. He was as smart as his son had been. I swallowed. "She… He was a student of hers, during the time she left you guys. …She used him, seduced him… manipulated him."
I closed my eyes when the stream of protests came from the girls, not caring enough about what they had to say or about countering it—and when it stopped, I opened them to see Jace's dad's arms up, quieting them. "…How old is Gil, Sara?" He asked me, and it occurred to me that maybe he didn't know everything…
I swallowed again, my mouth unbelievably dry. "He's… he was nineteen, when she seduced him. She was his first."
He looked surprised at the age—appalled, really—but not at his wife's actions. While his daughters raised objections in defense of their mother and in simple disbelief, he met my eyes with certainty. He may not have known, before she left them, what kind of woman she was… but he knew now. Had he stayed with her because he loved her in spite of it, or simply because he didn't believe in divorce? Or to keep their family together? He cleared his throat.
"…You want our blessing to be with this man." He said, rather than asked. And though I hadn't realized that it was what I had been seeking—I had only meant to preempt the woman threatening to spill the beans at an inopportune time, like Jace's funeral or a family Christmas… or when Ayla was old enough to understand and be upset by it. If you didn't have secrets, after all, they couldn't be exploited.
But I found myself nodding, and clarifying. "…Yours." Not my awful mother-in-law or Jace's sisters who were miniature versions of her, with the exception, perhaps, of the sexual dysfunction… but the man who had asked me to call him 'dad' and meant it.
He lowered his chin once in a slow nod. "You have it."
There was an outcry from the girls, but I didn't hear it. Though I had felt unbelievably lighter after reading Jace's letter, I felt a further burden lifting and found my lips twisting into a small smile. "…I don't ever want her to see Ayla again." I said, surprising myself with the serious turn. It felt like I couldn't accept his blessing before he knew my limits.
Once again, our eyes met, and I saw him read in them the horrors I had heard about her and the things I knew I might never hear, and then he nodded again. "Understood." I sighed in relief and though the man's eyes seemed sad and serious, he offered me a small smile, stood, and offered out his arms. I fell into them and he rocked me gently. Into my ear, he murmured softly, "…I'm sorry for the things my family has done to you," so that only I could hear. I pulled back a little, looking into his eyes.
"…He wanted to let me go. He just didn't know how." His eyes told me that while our situations were worlds apart, he understood what it was like to be unable to let someone go—in that moment I knew that he loved her, her faults and dysfunctions and manipulations an all, and he didn't like himself for it… but he couldn't help it. I hugged him tightly again. "He was more like you than her. …I miss him so much."
I felt a sob reverberate through his chest, though it never reached the surface, and he clutched me tighter. "Me too, honey… me too."
I left, after reassuring him that he and the girls could see Ayla whenever they wanted, as long as they respected my wishes that Ayla never see her grandmother again. Jace's sisters were still mad at me, but truth be told I hadn't come for them—I realized that now. And finally feeling free—for the first time in years, really—I headed home to find Gil… to tell him everything that had happened… to beg him to forgive me for the past few days and let me love him the way he deserved to be loved. I wouldn't say that I was happy, precisely—Jace's death still hung over me heavily, inescapable—but I no longer felt trapped or inconsolable. For the first time, I was dealing with my grief. …For the first time, I was looking into the future and thinking about happiness, instead of just survival.