Author's Notes: This chapter contains some strong language. Disclaimer: The lyrics at the end of the chapter are not my own, they belong to Michelle Branch. That said, I hope everyone likes it. ---Slayer
Chapter Six.
A few years later, Stoneybrook, Connecticut.
"Home run!" Kristy Thomas screeched, loudly enough for Elizabeth and Patrick to hear it clearly from where they sat in the stands. Elizabeth hopped to her feet and yelled, "Go, Kristy!" as Kristy took off from home plate, running around the bases as fast as her little legs would take her. Elizabeth and Patrick were cheering as one of the boys on the other team fumbled for the ball. Too late. As soon as he managed to toss it back infield, Kristy was already safely cruising across home plate. Elizabeth put her fingers in her mouth and let loose a loud whistle.
"Can you believe how good she is?" Patrick said excitedly as they sat down again. "I mean, when I was six years old, I couldn't even lift a bat. I was such a little weakling." He laughed.
Elizabeth smiled as she spotted Kristy in the dugout, exchanging high fives with her teammates. Six-year-old Kristy was as in love with baseball as Patrick was, and this Sunday afternoon was her first official baseball game. True, it was only tee-ball, but it was a big thrill for the child. And she was good at it, too. Her home run had been the first one of the game, which put Kristy's team, Carter's Groceries, in the lead.
The rest of the game passed fairly quickly. Kristy was up to bat two more times and each time, she at least got on base. At fielding, she was better than any of the other kids on the team, even the boys. By the time the game had ended, Carter's Groceries had won, 10-7. "Good game," some of the players were shouting. Elizabeth began to gather up her things to meet Kristy, but Patrick was way ahead of her; he was already trotting towards the field. "I'll catch you later," he called over his shoulder.
"Yeah, don't help with the baby or anything," Elizabeth muttered under her breath as she scooped nine-month-old David Michael into her arms. David Michael had been a bit of a surprise to Elizabeth and Patrick, one Elizabeth suspected Patrick had never gotten over. He barely paid any attention to David Michael at all; in fact, since learning of Elizabeth's pregnancy, Patrick had been more distant than ever. Elizabeth took care of David Michael almost completely alone, and she was tired of it. At this rate, she may as well not even have a husband.
She made her way down the stands and started for the field. "Mom!" a voice called, and a second later Elizabeth was bombarded with Sam and Charlie. The two boys were covered in dirt from head to toe, and each of them seemed to think it was a great idea to fling themselves on Elizabeth. Elizabeth gritted her teeth, fighting her urge to scream. The only thing worse than being stressed out and caring for a baby was being stressed out, caring for a baby, and having a ten year old and an eight year old who were in love with dirt.
"Mom," Sam said anxiously, tugging at Elizabeth's sleeve with one grubby hand. "Guess what game Charlie taught me!"
"I can only imagine," Elizabeth said.
"King of the Hill," Sam went on excitedly.
"Yeah, and it involves a lot of dirt, I can see." Elizabeth sighed. "Charlie, take Sam to the car. We'll be along in a minute and as soon as we get home, it's the showers for you two."
"But I like dirt," Sam insisted. "The way pigs like mud, you know?"
"Showers," Elizabeth repeated. "Long ones."
Sam pouted, but Charlie grabbed his arm and said, "Come on Sam, don't make Mom mad."
Charlie took off for the car, practically dragging Sam behind him. Elizabeth had to smile. Even though he was only ten, Charlie was like a little old man. That was what all of her friends told her. He was extremely mature for his age. Except when it came to dirt, she had to amend to herself.
Just then, Kristy arrived. "Mom, I won the game," she said happily. Elizabeth stepped back and looked at Kristy critically. The girl was small for her age and she had a mop of tousled brown hair sticking out from underneath her too-big baseball cap. She was smudged with red clay from the playing field. "You're a mess," Elizabeth said with a smile.
"Can we go out to eat?" Kristy asked as they started in the direction of the parking lot. "Dad says he wants to take me out for a superstar lunch." She grinned up at Patrick. Elizabeth glanced at her husband questioningly, and Patrick said, "Why not?"
"We've got to get these kids cleaned up," Elizabeth insisted. "No decent restaurant would let them within ten feet of the front door."
"Sam says dirt is cool," Kristy commented.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but Patrick just laughed. "Kids will be kids," he said. He glanced at his watch. "Actually, Liz, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be in Stamford soon. My friend Dave is meeting me there and we're going to see the Stamford Bears play the Atlanta Braves. Talk about an opportunity." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and started to jog off towards his own car.
"Patrick!" Elizabeth cried. "What about the kids?"
"Get them cleaned up and take them out," he called over his shoulder. "You can use some of the grocery money; it's in my sock drawer. Bye!"
"But . . ." It was useless; Elizabeth's words were lost on the wind. Patrick was almost out of sight. Just then, David Michael started wailing, at the exact same moment that Kristy tripped on a stick and went flying. She howled as her knee skidded over the ground and bled. Elizabeth took a deep breath as she rushed forward, trying to calm both Kristy and David Michael.
She vowed to kill Patrick later.
* * * *
Much, much later that evening, Elizabeth stood at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a tall glass of scotch. Elizabeth wasn't a heavy drinker, but even so, this was her third glass of scotch that night. Elizabeth allowed the warm liquid to flow through her body, giving her strength. Her intoxicant reminded her briefly of her father, who would come home every night to a glass of scotch and his newspaper. Elizabeth's father had passed away earlier that year and Hannah had moved to a small apartment only forty minutes from Elizabeth's home in Stoneybrook.
Thinking of her parents caused Elizabeth's eyes to well with tears, and to avoid crying, she took a long sip of her drink as she left the kitchen and headed out into the front hall, staring out one of the side windows. It had rained that evening and now the outside world was cool and damp, with a light, balmy breeze. Elizabeth pushed the window open a crack to get a better feel for the fresh air. It was May and springtime was just blossoming at its best after a long, cold winter. Even so, Elizabeth didn't take comfort in the weather. She glanced at the clock on the mantle behind her as it ticked over to 2:45 a.m.
As if on cue, the front door swung open. Elizabeth's back was turned and as she heard Patrick slip inside, she didn't bother to turn around. She kept staring out the side window, focusing on a small leaf on the rhododendron bush outside, dripping with late raindrops. She listened as Patrick silently closed the door behind him and made his way to her. "Sorry," he said simply.
Elizabeth kept staring out the window, trying to compose herself, slowly counting to ten. One raindrop . . .two raindrops . . . three raindrops . . . Elizabeth was furious. Patrick had never come home from his big baseball game in Stamford, and he'd never called either. Elizabeth would have been worried, but this wasn't the first time that Patrick had failed to come home after being out. It was almost becoming a tradition for him and the basis of the regular fights that they had. Even though Elizabeth wasn't particularly in a fighting mood, she was too upset to let his absence pass.
She turned around to face Patrick. He was still standing behind her, wearing a half-apologetic, half-blank expression. For a second, she saw the young kid she'd spilled soda on outside a dorm hall in the 1970's. The man standing before her now was as handsome as ever, even with his hair damp, dressed in a long black trench coat over his jeans and t-shirt. But there was something missing in his eyes. Something that showed he cared.
"What time is it?" Elizabeth said finally.
Patrick shrugged. "I know I'm late, Liz, but---"
"What time is it?" she cut him off.
Patrick sighed. "I don't know, two or three I guess."
"Two-forty five. In the morning. That must have been one hell of a game," she snapped.
"After the game, Dave and I went out with some people," Patrick said monotonously, as if he'd rehearsed the words. "We shot some pool and had a few drinks. Is that okay with you?"
"Are you crazy? Of course it's not okay with me! I might excuse it if this was the first time, but this is the fourth time this week that you haven't been here. Not to mention that you completely deserted me at the baseball field today. So, yet again, I had to take care of four kids by myself, making up excuses for you. Do you know Kristy waited until almost midnight for you to come read her a story? That I had to tell her that, yet again, her daddy wasn't going to read her a story tonight? Can you even imagine the look on her face?"
The tiniest look of guilt passed through Patrick's eyes, but then it was replaced with irritation. "I said I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he said. "What more do you want? I was having fun. I think I deserve to have fun once in awhile."
"Once in awhile?" she repeated. "Wake up, Patrick. Your whole life is having fun. I can't even remember the last time you were here for me or any of the kids. You're always out having fun." Elizabeth's voice was shaking with anger.
"The last time I was here for you?" Patrick repeated. "How about when I get up at six am every morning to go out and make a living for you and the kids? Is that being there enough for you?"
"It's not just the money, Patrick. Shouldn't there be more to this family than just making a living?" Elizabeth demanded. "Charlie wants to go fishing, and Sam wants you to help him with his math, and Kristy needs someone to toss a softball to her after dinner. Among other things. When are you going to start being their father, Patrick?" She meant it. She did understand that he was the provider of the family, especially that he'd taken a second job with the newspaper as a freelance sportswriter. But it didn't matter if he were a millionaire if he wasn't actually going to be there for anyone.
Patrick looked good and angry now. He muttered something under his breath and then turned and walked into the kitchen. Elizabeth could hear him slamming open a cabinet. Elizabeth followed him into the kitchen and saw that he was pouring himself a glass of water. "Don't walk away from me, Patrick," she said.
Patrick took a long swallow of water and then slammed the glass down on the counter. "I'll do whatever I damn please," he replied. "I am sick of this, Elizabeth. Do you know what my life is like? I get up early every morning and I work hard all day long at a job I hate, just so I can put a roof over your head and put food on the table. Then I work nights and weekends throwing together stories so that I can actually do something that I do like, and you punish me for it. I've sacrificed just as much as you have and I am sick to death of nothing being good enough for you. I'm sick of coming home and having you in my face about how much I don't do. Well, guess what, Elizabeth? I can tell you right now that I would probably be much happier if we'd never gotten married. At least then I wouldn't have to put up with any bullshit from my nagging wife, I can tell you that."
Elizabeth stared at him for a few minutes before she was able to find her voice. "Well, if we hadn't gotten married then I wouldn't have to put up with bullshit from my irresponsible, childish husband." Her voice rose. "Grow up, Patrick. I'm sorry you actually have to work for a living to support your family but that's just how it is."
"Yeah? Says who?" Patrick shot back. "My motto's always been, if you don't like it, leave it."
"Screw your motto," Elizabeth snapped. "You can't just up and leave something because it's convenient. You've made a commitment, Patrick. To me and to those kids."
Patrick looked disgusted. "Screw commitment," he shot back. "When is it my turn to do what I want to do?"
"And what do you want to do, Patrick?" Elizabeth demanded. "Go be a big sports writer? Live off of baseball? No responsibilities, no duties, nothing but your goddamned journalism? Guess what, Patrick---I went to school for four years for journalism. I left the New York Times so I could be your wife and have your children. Do you think that was easy for me? No, it damned well wasn't, but you don't see me sitting around whining about it, do you?"
"You're whining right now," Patrick said.
"This isn't whining. This is me trying to get some sense through your thick skull! When are you going to get over yourself and just do what you have to do? Everybody does."
"Well, I'm not everybody," Patrick replied. "And you're right, I would be much happier being a full-time sportswriter. Doesn't my happiness count for anything?"
"It would if you weren't so selfish about it," Elizabeth bit out.
"Selfish, huh?" Patrick looked maliciously amused as he shook his head and downed the rest of his water. When he spoke again, his voice was strangely flat; decisive. "I don't have to deal with this, Elizabeth." He turned to the scotch bottle that she'd left on the counter and poured some into his glass, then raised it to her in a mock toast. "So here's to you, Liz. Here's to this whole fucking family." With that, he downed the scotch in one gulp and then hurled the glass to the floor. It shattered all over the ceramic tile. Elizabeth jumped back as tears filled her eyes and before she could stop, they spilled over her cheeks.
Patrick glanced at her, but her tears seemed to mean nothing to him. He just snorted and shook his head and then headed for the stairs. Elizabeth stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the broken glass. After a minute, she wiped her eyes and noticed that her hands were shaking. Even so, she couldn't leave the glass on the floor. It was a tall crystal one that had once been Hannah's. Now it lay in pieces. Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to compose herself as she knelt down and began picking up the shards of glass.
It wasn't easy. She was still shaking and she managed to slice herself when she picked up a particularly sharp piece. Elizabeth blinked as she watched blood start to appear, trickling over her hands from the wound.
She may have sat there for ages if Kristy hadn't come downstairs. Elizabeth heard a small voice say, "Mom? What's going on?"
Elizabeth whirled and saw Kristy standing there, clutching one of her baby dolls in her arms. Her eyes were big brown question marks as she took in the glass on the floor. Then she noticed the blood. "Mom! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Elizabeth said. "Go back to bed, Kristy."
"But Mom—" Kristy started to walk towards her mother.
"Go!" Elizabeth snapped. "Don't walk in here; you'll cut your feet."
Kristy stopped immediately. "I'm sorry." Her voice trembled, almost in fear, and Elizabeth let out her breath as she got to her feet. "It's okay, Kristy, but please go back to sleep, okay? It was just a little accident. I'll clean it up."
"Are you sure?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Good night, Kristy."
Kristy hesitated for another minute before turning and fleeing back upstairs. Elizabeth sighed and went over to the sink, washing off her hands. She finished cleaning up the glass mess and then put a band-aid over the wound on her hand. Yet when she began to head up the stairs to sleep, she found herself dreading being with Patrick. She couldn't face him. Not after the things he'd said. She replayed their fight in her mind, every last hurtful word slicing through her heart like a jagged sword. It was time for her to realize that she and Patrick were having serious problems.
She couldn't deal with it now.
So she went to the linen closet for an extra pillow and blanket, and she slept on the couch that night.
* * * *
Elizabeth overslept the next morning. She awoke to the sound of David Michael crying from upstairs. Elizabeth groggily sat up, trying to orient herself. Then she glanced at her watch and let out a yelp. It was almost 10:00 am. She was supposed to have been up by seven so she could get the kids off to school.
"Damn it," she cursed under her breath as she hopped off the couch and hurried upstairs. "Sam! Charlie! Kristy! It's time to get to school! Guys?"
There was no answer. Once she got upstairs, she saw that the children's bedroom doors were open and the rooms were empty. Elizabeth was confused, but David Michael's crying was persistent. She went to his bedroom and hurriedly changed his diaper and gave him a bottle. Then, carrying him with her downstairs, she found a note on the kitchen table. She picked it up and recognized Charlie's scrawl immediately.
"Dear Mom, I know you are tired so I told Sam and Kristy not to wake you up. We got to school okay and I made us lunch. Don't worry. Love, Charlie."
My little old man, Elizabeth thought in amusement as she put the letter back on the table. At least the kids were taken care of. Elizabeth set about putting David Michael in his baby swing and then she went up to her bedroom to take a shower.
When she got to her room, the first thing she noticed was the bareness. The room was always a little disorganized, but today it was tidy. The bed was made and a lot of the clutter that took up Patrick's desk and nightstand was gone. Going to the closet, she found that some of his clothes were gone as well. That's strange, she thought to herself as she took her robe from the closet. She didn't think much of it while she took her shower and washed her hair. It was only later, when she opened the dresser drawer to get out her hairdryer, that she noticed that Patrick's socks and underwear, along with the envelope of grocery money, was gone.
Elizabeth began to feel strange. She slowly closed the drawer and looked at the closet again. The typewriter case that usually sat on the closet floor was gone. She walked closer to the closet and opened the door all the way, peering off to the sides. That was when she noticed that one of the big suitcases was missing, as well.
Suddenly, the realization hit her full force, and she sat down hard on the edge of her bed. Her thoughts went back to the fight last night. Patrick was gone. Oh my . . . Elizabeth took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself as she jumped to her feet, pacing as she raked her hands through her wet, tangled hair. Think calmly, Liz, she thought. Patrick can't be completely gone. He probably just left to cool down. He'll be back in a few days. He always comes back.
But Patrick didn't come back. Elizabeth kept going as if things were normal, putting up a front for her children and telling them that their dad was working, or out, when they questioned his absence. A few days grew into a week, and then two weeks. Finally, Elizabeth had to face the obvious. Patrick wasn't coming back. Days passed and his car never pulled up in the driveway, and he never came in late, and he didn't call or send any letters. Elizabeth wanted to scream and cry and panic, but for the kids' sake, she couldn't.
She finally told them, on a late August day, a few days after Kristy's seventh birthday. But she figured by then, they knew it anyway. Even Kristy. Elizabeth tried to explain it in terms that they could understand. "Daddy's going to be gone for awhile," she said. "Nobody did anything wrong and you know that even if he's not here, he loves you. And I'm not going anywhere. We'll all be a family together."
They accepted it and, just like that, their lives went on. Elizabeth, who only had a few more classes left to complete her accounting degree, kept going to night school. Charlie helped a lot, too. He made peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches for lunches, learned how to wash clothes, and kept an eye on Sam and Kristy while Elizabeth was busy with David Michael. Elizabeth also took a job at a company in Stamford, as a secretary. Hannah came over to watch the kids whenever Elizabeth had to be in school or at work. It was a struggle, but they made the best of it.
For a long time, Elizabeth didn't speak of Patrick. Not until the fall season came and went, the first Christmas without him passed, and another spring season arrived. It was on a warm June evening that Elizabeth saw Patrick again. In retrospect, she should have expected to hear from him eventually; technically, they were still married, since there hadn't been any divorce proceedings yet. Nevertheless, when Elizabeth was walking to her car that night after work, she was startled when she heard him call her. "Elizabeth."
Elizabeth recognized his voice immediately; she had been hearing it in her dreams every night for a year. She turned, half-expecting it to be an illusion. But no. There he was, looking exactly the same as always. His hair was a little shorter, but otherwise, he was Patrick. He stood just a few feet away in the early dusk shadows, patiently waiting for her to get over her shock.
"What are you doing here?" she finally managed to say.
"I spoke to your mother," Patrick said, approaching. "She told me where I could find you." He grinned a little. "Although she certainly wasn't happy to hear from me, I can tell you that."
Elizabeth didn't think; she just reacted. She brought up her right hand and swung at him, her fist connecting solidly with his jaw. Patrick grimaced, rubbing at his jaw. When Elizabeth spoke again, her voice was cold, trembling with rage. "How dare you?" she said. "You desert me, and I don't hear from you for months, and now you show up, all cocky like nothing's the matter, and you dare drag my mother into this? I'd really like to know what the hell you're trying to do!"
Patrick sighed. "Look, don't fight with me, Liz. That's not what I'm here for."
Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Then what are you here for?"
"We have to talk," he said. "There's still our marriage to think about. And---" he shrugged. "I want to make it right between us. And the kids. I . . . miss them."
Elizabeth exhaled. If it were up to her, she'd send him walking. But there were her kids to think about. She couldn't deny them having a father just because she was angry. "All right," she said finally. "Talk."
Patrick smiled. "Can we go somewhere?"
They ended up at a restaurant not far from Elizabeth's office. Elizabeth made sure to call Hannah at the house and tell her what was going on. "I don't know when I'll be home," she concluded, "but don't tell the kids. About Patrick, I mean. I don't know what's going to happen, but I don't want them to know he's here unless I know he's going to stay."
"All right," Hannah agreed. "Good luck, Elizabeth."
"Thanks," Elizabeth whispered.
From the background on Hannah's end, Elizabeth heard Kristy shout, "Nannie, is that Mom? Can I talk?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Tell Kristy I'm in a hurry, but I love her and I'll see her later."
"I will," Hannah said. "Bye, Elizabeth."
"Bye."
Elizabeth hung up the phone and then made her way back to where Patrick was sitting. Patrick looked totally comfortable as he scanned the menu, but Elizabeth was still a little wary as she slid in her seat across from him. "So," she said. "What are we going to do?"
Patrick carefully avoided her question as the waiter arrived. He ordered for both of them quickly, which might have annoyed Elizabeth any other time. But this time, she hardly noticed. She didn't have much of an appetite anyway.
Patrick began talking. And talking. Elizabeth learned that he'd been working his way around the country, for magazines and newspapers. He had made it as far as California, where he'd lived for a few months in San Francisco before returning to Stoneybrook. Elizabeth was surprised to hear that he'd already been in Stoneybrook for a couple of weeks.
Strangely, the small talk relaxed Elizabeth, and she found herself responding, telling him how they'd been doing. She told him about Kristy's graduation to regular Little League baseball, and how Sam was doing excellent at his math and how Charlie had been taking care of everyone. She told him that she was only one class from her degree and once she got it, she had a promotion coming her way.
They talked for a long time, the small talk growing into deeper issues. They talked about what had gone wrong in their marriage and whether they wanted to work it out or if it would be best to split. Patrick told her that he wanted to continue pursuing his career, and to do that he needed to travel. He felt that if he returned home only to be gone all the time, it would make things even worse. Reluctantly, Elizabeth had to agree. The issues would never go away as long as Patrick remained the way he was, and from the look of it, he had no intention of changing.
In a strange way, it was as if they were making their peace with one another.
*Of all the things I believed in
I just want to get it over with
Tears form behind my eyes
But I do not cry
Counting the days that pass me by
I keep searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
Feels like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend*
Elizabeth and Patrick stayed at the restaurant until it closed. Elizabeth checked her watch as they headed out to the parking lot and saw that it was nearly one in the morning.
They walked to their cars and Elizabeth felt a lump in her throat as she saw Patrick's familiar car parked beside hers in the lot. Somehow, deep in her, she knew that she'd never see it parked like that in their driveway again.
Patrick knew it, too. "I, uh, I know a lawyer," he said, clearing his throat. "He can draw up the papers."
Elizabeth nodded, but in her mind, she was going back through their personal timeline. College, New York, marriage. Their first date, first kisses, the proposal, their wedding night, their happiness after Charlie was born, their first apartment together in New York, their house in Stoneybrook, their children, late nights, lazy mornings, long talks, passionate embraces. The memories were intertwined with annoyances, arguments, and disappearances. Shadows of time that were long gone, places they could never again go, and things they could never again say. Somewhere along the line, their happiness and love had faded. Elizabeth knew it; she knew it from the day Patrick had turned up missing. They could never go back to the way that they were before; both were too altered by time and events to be happy together.
Even if she already knew it, it still hurt. As Elizabeth turned to face Patrick, she couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes. The tears came from deep within her, from a heart breaking, crushing pain that only time would heal. This was different from when Patrick first left. This time it was real. Final.
Unlike that last night that they were together, this time Patrick didn't scoff at her tears. Instead, his own eyes grew misty. Hesitantly, he reached for her and Elizabeth didn't pull away. She let him pull her into one last embrace, resting her chin on his shoulder and breathing in the familiar smell of the cologne he'd worn for years. He didn't say anything, just held her. Elizabeth allowed some of her tears to fall; she was crying for herself, and for him. For what they'd shared and lost. Because, despite everything that had happened, she had loved him.
Suddenly, it was important that he know that. Elizabeth pulled away slightly and looked into his eyes. "I love you," she whispered, so inaudibly that she almost couldn't hear herself. But Patrick knew. He nodded and replied, just as quietly, "I love you too."
She allowed him to kiss her, even though it was a bittersweet kiss, filled with pain and longing. Elizabeth couldn't understand how fate could let her fall in love with this person, only to have it so that they could never be married happily. Patrick would never be happy as a husband and father, and Elizabeth couldn't live with him like that. She thought back to the night he proposed, a cold Christmas Eve. She'd told herself that all you needed was love, but now she knew that it wasn't true. She loved Patrick, but you needed trust and commitment, and she would never have that with him. Love was never enough. And goodbye was always goodbye.
*I still get lost in your eyes
And it seems that I can't live a day without you
Closing my eyes, and you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light
But it's not right
Goodbye to you, goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold onto*
When they pulled away from one another, Patrick pulled a letter from his pocket. "I wrote this," he said. "In case you wouldn't speak to me. But I want you to have it anyway. It's how I feel—along with a forwarding address where you or the kids can reach me."
Elizabeth nodded, taking the letter. "Keep in touch, for their sake," she said.
"I'll try," he said.
With that, he turned. Elizabeth backed away, still clutching the letter, as he walked to his car and got in. He turned and looked at her once, and their eyes met a final time, communicating without words. Then Patrick closed the car door and turned on the engine. Elizabeth watched as he pulled from the parking space and turned to drive away. For a second, she was caught in the headlights and his face was blocked from view. Then Patrick tapped the horn and went on past, turning onto the highway and driving out of sight.
Elizabeth watched for a few more minutes, trying to digest everything that had happened that night. She knew it was over—really and truly. She just hoped that he would keep his promise to stay in touch with the children.
Elizabeth let out her breath. Then she turned and headed for her own car.
* * * *
Dear Elizabeth,
I know you're probably furious at me. I don't blame you, because looking at it from your point, there's no excuse for leaving you. I don't know what happened; I suppose I just lost it. I couldn't stand what I was doing to you and to us. I wasn't happy, and my unhappiness was making you miserable, and I couldn't deal with it. I thought that the best thing to do would be to take off for a few days, give you some space. But the more I stayed gone, the harder it was to come back. For the first time in a long time, I felt like myself again. I could do what I wanted and I could have another chance, both at life and at a career. But looking back, I can see how irresponsible and selfish it was of me. I don't blame you if you never speak to me again, because I do deserve it for what I did to you. It's hard to write this letter, because even though I know I was wrong, and I miss you, I still can't bring myself to go back permanently. Maybe it is selfish, but I want to be happy and this is the only way I know how. I'm sorry for all the things I've said to you, especially the hurtful things, because I do love you. I just can't be with you. I hope you understand and I hope that one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
I'm going to move in with a friend of mine in Sausalito, California. I have the address written on an attached page and I will send you a phone number once I've got it. Please give my love to Charlie, Sam, Kristy, and David Michael.
Love,
Patrick
It was close to dawn before Elizabeth made it back to Stoneybrook. She'd sat in her car and read Patrick's letter, then driven around aimlessly, trying to get her bearings back.
The suburban streets were quiet when she pulled up; sunlight was just beginning to flicker on the gray, early-morning streets. Elizabeth got out of her car and took a deep breath, looking at her house. This was her main job now; even though she'd lost her marriage, she still had her children. They had to keep taking care of one another. They had to keep living.
Elizabeth made her way inside and upstairs. As she passed the bedrooms, she saw that all the doors were open. Kristy had bunked with Charlie and Sam; she was asleep in a bundle on the floor. Across the hall, David Michael was sleeping in his cradle while Hannah dozed in the nearby rocking chair. Elizabeth smiled, thinking to herself that she ought to take a couple of pictures.
In her own bedroom, she crossed over to the dresser and pulled out her jewelry box. She took Patrick's letter from her pocket and turned it over in her hands a few times before she gently laid it down inside the jewelry box. Then she slid off her wedding band and her engagement ring. For a few minutes, she just looked at them, the memories still playing in her mind. Elizabeth allowed herself a bittersweet smile before laying the wedding rings down on top of the letter. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling as if she'd just shut a door on her past.
After a few moments, Elizabeth closed the jewelry box and put it in one of her drawers.
*Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold onto
The one thing that I tried to hold onto
And when the stars fall, I will lie awake
You're my shooting star*
The End