This is a rewritten version of the one I posted several months ago.
So, this title is from Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, which is probably all you need to know. The full line is "Well, maybe there's a God above
As for me all I've ever learned from love
Is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you"
Holly Lindsey was standing outside an airport, waiting to meet her daughter. This was a last minute trip and she wasn't planning on staying long. She had a return flight booked in two days and had barely brought anything with her—literally enough clothes for those few days, two novels (Mrs. Dalloway and Persuasion), a couple of poetry collections and nothing else. The fact that she'd brought more books than clothes didn't escape her.
She sighed and checked her watch. Hopefully Blake would be driving up soon, but knowing her, it could be any time in the next two hours. She tried to stifle the annoyance she was feeling, but it wasn't working.
She'd slept on the plane but it was a restless sleep that left her even more tired. It was the same dream she'd had on and off for years, the one where she was looking for something but didn't know what it was, only that it was vital that she find it. After a few moments of frantically searching, Roger would appear and offer to help. But, of course, she never accepted his help; by the time she was ready to admit she could use the assistance, he was always gone.
At least, that was how the dream generally went. This time, she accepted his help immediately, but then the dream put them back at Cliff House. It was after everything with Davis, after they had made love. She was outside, wrapped in a blanket and shivering in the cold. She was trying to reconcile what had happened and the fact that she still loved him, even though she knew that she wasn't at all ready for a real relationship with him. Then he was there.
When it really happened, she didn't tell him the full truth of what she needed. This time, she did.
"I can't give you all of me right now. I want to; I want to figure out what we are to each other and what we can be. Please don't push me; just give me the space to come to terms with what it means to love you, because I do."
"Hol, we've got all the time in the world," he said, with the biggest smile.
She woke up when the plane landed and she'd felt groggy ever since.
A yelled "Holly!" caught her attention. Apparently Blake had sent Ross instead.
"Hi," she said, walking over to the car. She put her suitcase into the backseat before climbing into the front. "Thanks for picking me up. How's Blake?"
"About how you'd expect. She said to apologize for not coming herself, but she's not really in any shape to drive right now. How are you?"
He said it in the way that people always address the grieving, with that overly-sincere tone and the tilted head. The annoyance flared back up and she took a deep breath. She wouldn't get through the next few days if she started yelling now.
She decided to ignore the question.
"Is it actually true?"
"It seems to be, yeah."
"I don't believe it. And in general, I would think that it was just…you know, denial, but in this case, I think it just makes sense. We've been told this before and it's never been true."
"I know what you mean. But I don't think there's a reason to lie."
"There's always a reason to lie," Holly said, looking out the window. She'd been gone from Springfield for long enough that it was a little disconcerting at how similar everything looked. "It looks like nothing's changed here. It's like it's the town that time forgot."
Ross laughed. "You're not wrong."
It was starting to feel like her brain had a stutter; every few seconds, it would reorient itself and she'd again start to question whether it was real. She was pretty sure it was just a complete refusal to believe that she was finally free, a freedom she didn't really want or know what to do with.
"Ross. Do you think it's true? Do you believe it?"
She could see him weighing several possible answers before he just shrugged. "I don't know. But Blake believes it. And she said that the letter she got sounded just like him."
Holly closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her midsection, hunching over like she'd been suckerpunched. It didn't seem possible that she was living in a world without Roger in it. She felt her denial crack and she turned away from Ross to look out the window again. She dug her fingernails into her palms to try and keep herself together.
When they got to the house, Blake met them on the porch. It looked like she'd spent most of the day crying and Holly was reasonably sure that that was an accurate guess.
"Thanks for coming, Mom."
"Of course," Holly said, hugging her daughter. "I'm so sorry, honey."
The two of them went into the house and Ross said he was going to go back to the office and try to get some work done. Holly took her suitcase into the guest room, then went back into the living room and sat down next to Blake.
"The package I got has a letter for you, too, and some things of Daddy's that they sent. And there's an urn that I'm guessing has his ashes? They said that I could read the letter that was addressed to me but it asked that I not look at the other things until we were together."
"So what did they say exactly?"
"They said that Dad died and that he had asked them to send this package once, you know, once it happened. In the letter Dad wrote me, he said he was dying. It's definitely his handwriting and it sounds like him. It's not like someone dictated it to him and made him write it."
"Blake, you know that he's been presumed dead before. At least three times, maybe four. Honestly, possibly even more than that. It all kind of blurs after a while. I was there for two of them and I would've sworn to you that he died. I think your father may be a Terminator or something; I'm not sure he can be killed."
"It's not funny, Mom." Blake said. She was crying again, and Holly wasn't sure if she was even aware of it.
"I know. But if I don't try and laugh about it, I won't make it."
She paused as a thought struck her.
"I didn't bring a dress. Are you planning a memorial service?"
Blake looked at her like she was crazy.
"Mom, you know the only people who would miss Dad are you and me. Everyone else would come to make sure he was dead and to congratulate themselves for outliving the town villain."
Holly knew she was right.
"I know but if it would help you grieve, we should do it. I'm sure a few other people would go, just to support you if nothing else. I'm sure Ed and Eve would come. Did you tell them?"
"I talked to Ed. He said he may come by later. He's concerned about how you're taking it."
Holly fought back the eyeroll. She'd exchanged maybe four emails with Ed since she left town. If he was concerned with how her life was going, he could've done a better job of keeping in touch. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with Eve, and the fact that they didn't get along. Eve would probably like her even less—if that were possible—now that Roger was gone.
"Can I see what's in this mysterious box?" she asked Blake.
Blake grabbed the box from the coffee table and passed it over to Holly. "This is everything but the urn and the letter he sent me. That's in our room but you can read it if you want to."
Holly shook her head. "That's between you and your dad, honey. If you want to share it, that's one thing but I don't need to read it." She paused. "Where's the urn?"
"That's also in our room."
Holly was willing to bet Ross was not okay with that. The thought of Ross sleeping (or at least trying to sleep) in the same room as Roger's ashes made her smile. Roger would love the fact that he was tormenting Ross even after he'd died.
She looked into the box and saw a small gift box and a larger one, along with two envelopes. One had her name on the outside and the other said "Open me first."
She took that one out first and pulled out a letter, then started to read it out loud.
"'Holly and Blake, there's no easy way to say this, but Roger Thorpe has died.'" She looked over at Blake and arched an eyebrow. "Easing us into it, I see."
Blake didn't say anything, so Holly kept going.
"`This will likely come as a shock to you. The last time you saw him, he was healthy. Not long after he left Springfield, he was diagnosed with ALS…'"
Holly trailed off, her eyes burning. She knew what ALS was and how Roger must have suffered before he died. She continued to skim the letter, though Blake had already told her the parts she needed to know. It was simply signed "A friend."
She put the letter back in the envelope then dropped it back into the box like it burned her.
Holly turned her attention back to the other things in the box. She pulled out the larger item first and opened it. It was a music box, clearly very old. "Oh, wow," she whispered.
"That's beautiful," Blake said.
"He bought it for me on our honeymoon. I'd wondered what happened to it. I figured it had gotten lost or destroyed, but I guess he kept it."
She gingerly opened it and smiled as it started playing. "I can't believe this still works."
She started to close it again but Blake stopped her. "What's that?"
Holly hadn't noticed, but a closer look showed her that there was a small black drawstring pouch, almost invisible against the black of the music box. She opened it, then gently shook the contents into her palm: their wedding rings and her engagement ring.
"Oh, Mom," Blake said softly.
Holly couldn't take her eyes off the rings.
She remembered their wedding. It was very small, a tiny step past eloping. It was just the two of them and Blake–so young that she was still Chrissy then—and a random person that they'd asked to be the witness. Her mother and Roger's father had been against it, and refused to come on principle. She'd been nervous about marrying him. When things were good with Roger, they were wonderful but he was also incredibly volatile; his moods would veer back and forth without warning. He always wanted to be a good father, so much so that he'd wanted to marry her once he knew that Chrissy was his, but his feelings about her seemed to change from minute to minute. She'd looked over at him as he slid the wedding ring on her finger and for a second, she believed it would all be okay. He looked like someone who'd gotten everything he ever wanted.
Her mom had agreed to watch Chrissy over the honeymoon, and she and Roger had spent a few days back in New York City. They'd found a bar they liked and spent most nights drinking and dancing. One night, the last before they were to head back home, they'd found a small shop that was still open even though it was close to 11pm by then. He was immediately intrigued.
"It's a sign, Hol!" he said, and grabbed her hand, pulling her inside. "Let's see what they have in here. I bet you anything there'll be something we love."
It was an unusual collection of things in there—clothes and posters and jewelry and knickknacks, all scattered around with no sense of order. It made it impossible to move quickly through the store.
In a corner, she saw the music box. She gently picked it up and opened the lid. It played "Moon River" from Breakfast at Tiffany's and she grinned. It was one of her favorite songs. She checked the price tag and saw that it was far too much money. She sighed and put it back.
"We're getting it," Roger said. She hadn't known he was behind her.
"It's way too much money," she said.
"I didn't get you a wedding present," he protested.
"I think we're supposed to consider our marriage to be the present."
"I've got this new job and this new family. This is a celebration, Holly. And every time you see this, you'll remember how happy we are right now."
He ignored her protests and took it up to the counter and bought it.
She wasn't sure when she stopped thinking about the music box, but she'd practically forgotten it.
Holly put the music box back into the crate, then picked up the smaller gift box and steeled herself for what it would be. When she saw the bracelet, she started to cry.
"What is it?" Blake asked.
"This is yours," Holly said, passing it over to her. "He was going to give it to you on your birthday. I asked him not to, because it was too nice a present for a child. I was afraid you'd lose it or break it." She paused and then told the other reason; she owed Roger at least that much. "And because I didn't want to have to explain it to Ed."
"So I must've been very young when he wanted me to have it," Blake said. "Can you put it on me now?"
Holly fastened it around Blake's wrist and then continued. "He said that he just wanted you to have it. It was his mom's and he wanted it to be a connection to him and his family. He didn't even care if you knew whose it was or where it came from. It was enough for him to know you had it. I'm sorry I didn't let him give it to you. You both deserved better."
Blake admired it on her wrist. "I'm glad I have it now."
"Two letters and two gifts," Holly murmured. "That's such a small box to represent his whole life."
She was trying so hard to be strong for Blake, but she was starting to crack.
"Are you going to read the letter?" Blake asked.
"Yes, but not yet. I'm not ready to say goodbye to him." She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I feel like in some ways, that's all I've done but I always thought that we'd end up together. Every time, we would get a little bit closer to making it work and I felt like we would get it right the next time. He told me once `The rest of my life is no great prize but it's yours. We always knew that.' And I felt the same way. We would get there at some point, you know? We each tried so hard to make our love be enough to fix the other person and it wasn't. But it got better each time. WE got better at it. We tried to make it work with other people, but they were just…placeholders, I guess. A way to kill time before our real life started."
She looked over at Blake and started to cry. "I don't know who I am without him. It feels like my whole life has been defined by our relationship, by whether we were in love or fighting."
"It was always both," Blake said, hugging her.
It was.
She remembered a conversation they'd had shortly before everything that had happened at Cliff House. Hart had tried to run Roger over and had almost succeeded. She'd called and asked him to come over and he did, though much later; she'd almost given up. He made her a sandwich because she was dizzy and the conversation turned to Jenna. She'd never felt quite so jealous in her entire life, but Jenna was younger and richer and—Holly was secure enough to admit it—prettier. Every time Jenna came up in conversation, she could hear her voice getting increasingly sharp.
"Sometimes I feel guilty about her," Roger said, busying himself with the sandwich so he didn't have to meet her gaze.
"Why? Why would you feel guilty?" Holly asked. Of all the things that Roger could've said, this was possibly the one she'd least expected to hear.
"She needs me so much, you know, and sometimes I…" He trailed off and she could tell he was choosing his words incredibly carefully. "She feels me holding back."
This was as honest as they'd been in years, probably since Acapulco.
"Do you?" she asked.
"Yup."
"Why?"
She didn't know what she wanted his answer to be, and she found herself almost holding her breath.
"Because what I'm holding back is yours, Holly."
He paused, clearly trying to decide how much more vulnerable he wanted to be, but then kept going.
"Me. I'm yours."
She wasn't exactly surprised; if she were being completely honest, she would admit that she felt the same way. The only thing that caught her off guard was that he said it out loud.
They'd kissed then, but she'd asked him to leave and he had.
"Mom." It was Blake and her tone made clear that she'd been calling Holly's name multiple times. At least three, Holly thought, maybe four.
"I'm sorry," she said, shooting her daughter an apologetic look. "I just got lost in my head for a second there."
Blake gave her a little bit of grace and changed the subject.
"I just keep expecting him to walk in and laugh at us for falling for this," she said.
Holly smiled and nodded. "He'd say something like how he couldn't believe that we would just take some letters and presents as proof."
"`It's very easy to fake a death certificate and handwriting.'"
"I'm pretty sure I read that you can't get DNA from ashes, so this could be anyone, really," Holly said, then sighed. "He infuriated me so many times and all I want now is for him to just poke his head in and make fun of me."
She looked over at Blake, really seeing her—the bags under her eyes, the tearstained cheeks and the lines that she was pretty sure weren't there a week ago—and sighed. "How long has it been since you've slept?"
"I found out, what, two days ago? So it's been about that long. How about you? You look exhausted."
"That's very kind of you, Blake. I slept on the plane; I'm fine."
Holly stood up and grabbed Blake's hand, tugging her to her feet. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to go take a nap. I'll text Ross and ask him to bring dinner in a few hours. Any requests?"
"I'm not hungry," Blake said.
"Chinese food it is," Holly said.
"Don't forget…"
"Extra dumplings. I won't."
Blake went into her bedroom and closed the door. Holly sat back down and reached into the box and pulled out the letter.
She kept picking it up and putting it back down, still unsure if she was ready to read it. No matter what it said, she knew it would hurt.
She'd almost gotten up the nerve to read it when the doorbell rang. She put the letter back and then went to open the door. It was Ed and Michelle. Despite her earlier annoyance, she was happy to see her best friend and even happier to see Michelle.
"Hi," she said, hugging them. "It's so good to see you both."
"How are you doing?" Ed asked.
She shrugged, then paused to listen but it sounded like Blake was still asleep.
"I can't believe it," she said. "I thought that was something people said, but I seriously can't fathom that I'm still in the world but Roger isn't. It's impossible to wrap my head around it."
Ed started to say something but Michelle spoke first.
"Do you remember after my mom died and you came up to talk to me? You were the only person to treat me like a person and not like Poor Michelle."
"Poor Michelle?" Ed asked.
Holly got it immediately. "Poor Michelle whose mother died."
Ed winced.
"Exactly. And you told me that you get used to losing people when you're older because it just keeps happening. It didn't really help, knowing that I can expect to have my heart broken over and over."
"Sorry about that," Holly said, ruefully. "I should've warned you that I'm not good at pep talks."
"But it was what I needed to hear. I needed the knowledge that it would be hard and that it would keep getting hard but that I would get past it. And it helped when you said that losing a mother is different and it only happened once. If it's the worst thing that can happen, I've already survived it. But you forgot something."
"I've probably forgotten a great many things," she said. Michelle ignored the joke.
"You can only lose the love of your life once, too."
"I don't think that's true, Michelle. Roger and I lost each other many times."
"Not like this," she insisted. "Not forever. And I know a lot of people hated him, including my dad…"
Holly looked over at Ed, who didn't deny it. There was no point; everyone knew how he felt about Roger.
"But I loved him and so did my mom. And so did you. And I just wanted you to know that I'm also sorry he died. Grief is the most isolating thing in the world, but you're not going through it alone. Even when it feels like you are. You…" Michelle tried to gather her thoughts. "You met me in my grief and I want to do the same with you. If you'll let me."
"Oh, sweetheart," Holly said, hugging her again and swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "Thank you. I'm so glad you're here. Seeing you is a huge help."
"Losing Maureen was horrible, Holly," Ed said. "Especially the way that I lost her, the circumstances around it. I imagine it's similar for you now. But…whatever happened between the two of you, you stayed connected. And I'm sure that connection is still there. I hope you let the love you had sustain you. And Eve wants you to know that you're welcome any time. And anything we can do to help, we'd be happy to do it."
Holly wasn't sure if she believed that last part or if that was a message that was really from Eve, but the sentiment was nice.
"Thanks, Ed. I really appreciate that. Tell Eve, too. I don't think I'll be here too long, but I hope we keep in touch."
Ed checked his watch. "Honey, we have to go."
Michelle hugged Holly one last time and then they were gone.
"Just you and me," she thought, picturing Roger. She'd known and loved him for decades, but she always pictured him in his 20s, incredibly young, handsome and not quite as broken as he'd become. He'd always called her the girl of his dreams, a fact that made her smile and roll her eyes in roughly equal measure. But any time she was honest with herself, she had to acknowledge that he was the man of hers, too, much as she tried to run away from that truth.
Time to stop running, she thought, picking the envelope up again. She sighed and then opened it.
Dear Holly,
If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. I hope you'll forgive me for being a little melodramatic, but I always wanted to start a letter that way and this is the only time I could do it and have it be true.
I hope you forgive me for not telling you or Chrissy that I was sick. I wanted to, but I didn't want you to have to take care of me. And, selfishly, I didn't want you to see me waste away. I couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me die by inches. I know you love me enough that you would've done it and I loved you enough not to make you. I wish I had realized before now that the best way to show how much I love you is by letting you go.
I wish that I had lived a kinder life and that I had trusted our love without making you prove yourself to me over and over. I was afraid to fully believe that you were able to love me and so I just hurt you repeatedly. Of all the regrets in my life—and there are so many—that's the one I most want to undo. Everything that went wrong between us can be traced back to that night. I wish I had let you leave or, even better, that I could've been vulnerable with you before that night, that I could've told you how much your approval meant to me. Maybe you would've stayed. You might wonder why I'm rehashing this again, but it's because I want you to know I know everything that went wrong between us was my fault.
That's the other reason why I didn't tell you about this. As much as I would love your face to be the last thing I see, I'm not sure I deserve the comfort of it. You may be angry right now that I made another decision about your life without consulting you. If you are, I'm sorry. Please know that my intentions were good and that all I want is for you to be happy. You deserve every good thing in the world and I hope that you receive all of them. You're the strongest person I know, and I'm glad you gave our daughter that tenacity.
I love the two of you so much. Even though I was horrible at showing it and even though I ruined my relationships with both of you, I am nothing but grateful for having loved you and for being Chrissy's father.
I don't know what happens when we die, but I do know that if any part of me goes on, it'll be that love. Any small piece of goodness in me is from you both.
Holly folded the letter back up and walked over to the window. Of course he got the last word.
NOTE: Dialogue from this is a mixture of the show's and my own.
