Authors Note- First off I am sorry for the week without the updates...My computer was only SUPPOSE to be in the shop for an hour, that hour turned into three and a half days... So my apologies, but now my computer is all pretty, so yah... I guess it was worth it. Although I lost all the chapters, so until I get chapters 26 and 27 for Liby... (I have 28 thru 30) there might be a lack of updates... Anyways, thanks for all the reviews, no responses or previews in this chapter... Next though!
I pick up the white dress, it represents something I lived for at one point. Her. I still do, every breath I take I smell her, I breathe in her scent. Every time I see her face, I see her smile telling me everything is going to be okay. I couldn't believe her before, but I think I do now. Maybe she's right, if I give life a chance maybe something good will come out of it. Who knows, I'll just keep ploughing away and hope for the best, that's all I can really do. I run my fingers over the soft fabric, a vision of her walking down the aisle flashes, us saying our vow, she leans forward gently kissing me on the lips. I can still taste her, as I run my tongue along my lips. I bring myself out of my trance, looking down at the dress... I wrap it back up in the plastic and take it to the one place I know it will be safe, a place where I can visit it, but not have the memories haunting me, clouding my vision. Getting in the way of my life. She would want me to move on, as hard as it may be, it has to happen. I sling the dress over my arm, reaching for the ladder with one swift tug I pull it down. Not much of an effort. I must be getting stronger, lugging two kids around for three years will do that to a guy. I climb the stairs, avoiding the splinters that dare to jam themselves into my skin. I hold the dress away from the jagged stair case. You'd think I would come to my senses, and hire someone to fix it. I can afford it, that's never been a problem. I guess I just rely on myself to do everything. That's how its been. I can always teach Sebastian how to use a hammer. That would be interesting, I'm sure he would use it to hammer random toys into electrical sockets. I don't think I'll test that out too soon. The attic is dusty, worse looking then the stairs. I take the dress, gently placing it on a hanger. Away from the sun, that peaks in through the tiny window, and setting it on a pole that hangs in a corner. A dark corner, kind of like the place where I keep all my thoughts of her. A place I can relish in on those bad days, the unrealistic dream world I have set up for myself. My own abyss. Doesn't everyone have one of those? A place where they can go, and be free from the burdens of the world.
I putter around the attic for a few minutes, looking at the random things I've tossed up here over time. Broken toys, things I've hid from Sebastian, like his Tonka car. He use to hide outside my door early in the morning, while I was still asleep. He would put it on the foot of bed then turn it on and run it over my sleeping body. It was a most unpleasant way to be woken up. The gears of the car revving and tires running over your face. It didn't last long. I come across a big chest. Kind of like a treasure chest. I remember this vividly. Its Rebecca, or it was Rebecca's. I never went into it, it was hers, and hers only. When she died I couldn't bring myself to open it up, or go near anything that reminded me of her. Its been sitting up here untouched for three years. The chest opens with a creek. Now that she's gone, I am interested in seeing what she's hidden here for all these years. I respected her privacy for this long, but now the curiosity of it all is eating me alive. Just seeing it there, taunting me, begging me to open it. I pull out the first thing that catches my eye. A binder. A big black one. I open it up, newspaper articles cover every page. Different articles, pictures on almost everyone. The headlines catch my eye, 'John Carter and Wife attend Children's Charities.' Roughly the same thing scrawled on every piece of paper. She kept all this. I never knew. I guess it was her keepsakes. I set the binder aside, only to pick up a photo album, one that is cluttered with pictures of us. From when we first started dating, to our wedding day. The next album is pictures of our children. Each picture brings a smile to my face. I put the album down, taking a look into the chest, seeing the endless amounts of things. One item in particular catches my eye. A shoe box. I expect to find movie ticket stubs, love letters I sent her, random pictures of us. But what I do see catches me off guard. There are love letters, tons of them, all stacked in a pile, neatly. With an elastic band wrapped around it. None of them are from me. Movie ticket stubs cluttered the bottom of the box, none from movies we saw together. None of this is familiar. The scent of it isn't. Nor is the bottle of cologne that was haphazardly tossed into the box. It seems to have leaked. I pick up an envelop. Opening it up, I am met with pictures. Becca, all of Becca. But she's not alone. A man is with her, more like a young man, in some of them. I flip one of the pictures over and am met with caption. 'Becca and Damien.' Damien? Her high school boyfriend. I toss the pictures back down, and open one of the letters. The top one to be precise. The first line catches my eye.
Dear Becky,
Its been too long since I last saw you. I know what happened that night can never happen again. Don't regret that it happened. If it was so wrong, why did it feel so right? Are you sure you are meant to be with him? You have only been engaged for six months, you can still back out, there is still time. Even if you don't, I will always remember that night we shared one month ago...
I stop dead. I can't breathe. Air is choking me, burning through me. Nothing has ever felt so unclear. I try to tear my eyes away from the paper, but they keep tracing the last lines over and over again. I see the words, but they don't seem to register. It can't be true. She wouldn't have, she couldn't... Becca? My Becca? She wouldn't, its so out of character for her. The note is dated December '94. I toss it aside, wanting nothing more then to find this guy and rip him to shreds. I pick up the next letter, my fingers shaking as I read through it. Its From January of the following year. Many of them just say the same thing, how he longs for that night back. The last one catches my eye, more so then the others.
Dear Becky,
Now that you are married, I guess the affair has to end. I am just writing to say goodbye. Last week was amazing, but now it is my turn to move on. No more sexual encounters, no more dreaming of you. I have met someone....
Last week? The week before our marriage. This can't be happening. The next week we conceived Maddie. Oh My God, Maddie. Madison Carter, is she really Madison Carter? One week before the wedding night, this isn't true. The letter slowly falls out of my hands, dropping to the floor as my head follows suit and falls into my hands. Tears burn my eyes, threatening to fall, anger over takes me before draining me of every thing. Every feeling I have ever felt for Rebecca. All those years together, lies. That's what they seem. Nothing can ever be the same.
I pick up the white dress, it represents something I lived for at one point. Her. I still do, every breath I take I smell her, I breathe in her scent. Every time I see her face, I see her smile telling me everything is going to be okay. I couldn't believe her before, but I think I do now. Maybe she's right, if I give life a chance maybe something good will come out of it. Who knows, I'll just keep ploughing away and hope for the best, that's all I can really do. I run my fingers over the soft fabric, a vision of her walking down the aisle flashes, us saying our vow, she leans forward gently kissing me on the lips. I can still taste her, as I run my tongue along my lips. I bring myself out of my trance, looking down at the dress... I wrap it back up in the plastic and take it to the one place I know it will be safe, a place where I can visit it, but not have the memories haunting me, clouding my vision. Getting in the way of my life. She would want me to move on, as hard as it may be, it has to happen. I sling the dress over my arm, reaching for the ladder with one swift tug I pull it down. Not much of an effort. I must be getting stronger, lugging two kids around for three years will do that to a guy. I climb the stairs, avoiding the splinters that dare to jam themselves into my skin. I hold the dress away from the jagged stair case. You'd think I would come to my senses, and hire someone to fix it. I can afford it, that's never been a problem. I guess I just rely on myself to do everything. That's how its been. I can always teach Sebastian how to use a hammer. That would be interesting, I'm sure he would use it to hammer random toys into electrical sockets. I don't think I'll test that out too soon. The attic is dusty, worse looking then the stairs. I take the dress, gently placing it on a hanger. Away from the sun, that peaks in through the tiny window, and setting it on a pole that hangs in a corner. A dark corner, kind of like the place where I keep all my thoughts of her. A place I can relish in on those bad days, the unrealistic dream world I have set up for myself. My own abyss. Doesn't everyone have one of those? A place where they can go, and be free from the burdens of the world.
I putter around the attic for a few minutes, looking at the random things I've tossed up here over time. Broken toys, things I've hid from Sebastian, like his Tonka car. He use to hide outside my door early in the morning, while I was still asleep. He would put it on the foot of bed then turn it on and run it over my sleeping body. It was a most unpleasant way to be woken up. The gears of the car revving and tires running over your face. It didn't last long. I come across a big chest. Kind of like a treasure chest. I remember this vividly. Its Rebecca, or it was Rebecca's. I never went into it, it was hers, and hers only. When she died I couldn't bring myself to open it up, or go near anything that reminded me of her. Its been sitting up here untouched for three years. The chest opens with a creek. Now that she's gone, I am interested in seeing what she's hidden here for all these years. I respected her privacy for this long, but now the curiosity of it all is eating me alive. Just seeing it there, taunting me, begging me to open it. I pull out the first thing that catches my eye. A binder. A big black one. I open it up, newspaper articles cover every page. Different articles, pictures on almost everyone. The headlines catch my eye, 'John Carter and Wife attend Children's Charities.' Roughly the same thing scrawled on every piece of paper. She kept all this. I never knew. I guess it was her keepsakes. I set the binder aside, only to pick up a photo album, one that is cluttered with pictures of us. From when we first started dating, to our wedding day. The next album is pictures of our children. Each picture brings a smile to my face. I put the album down, taking a look into the chest, seeing the endless amounts of things. One item in particular catches my eye. A shoe box. I expect to find movie ticket stubs, love letters I sent her, random pictures of us. But what I do see catches me off guard. There are love letters, tons of them, all stacked in a pile, neatly. With an elastic band wrapped around it. None of them are from me. Movie ticket stubs cluttered the bottom of the box, none from movies we saw together. None of this is familiar. The scent of it isn't. Nor is the bottle of cologne that was haphazardly tossed into the box. It seems to have leaked. I pick up an envelop. Opening it up, I am met with pictures. Becca, all of Becca. But she's not alone. A man is with her, more like a young man, in some of them. I flip one of the pictures over and am met with caption. 'Becca and Damien.' Damien? Her high school boyfriend. I toss the pictures back down, and open one of the letters. The top one to be precise. The first line catches my eye.
Dear Becky,
Its been too long since I last saw you. I know what happened that night can never happen again. Don't regret that it happened. If it was so wrong, why did it feel so right? Are you sure you are meant to be with him? You have only been engaged for six months, you can still back out, there is still time. Even if you don't, I will always remember that night we shared one month ago...
I stop dead. I can't breathe. Air is choking me, burning through me. Nothing has ever felt so unclear. I try to tear my eyes away from the paper, but they keep tracing the last lines over and over again. I see the words, but they don't seem to register. It can't be true. She wouldn't have, she couldn't... Becca? My Becca? She wouldn't, its so out of character for her. The note is dated December '94. I toss it aside, wanting nothing more then to find this guy and rip him to shreds. I pick up the next letter, my fingers shaking as I read through it. Its From January of the following year. Many of them just say the same thing, how he longs for that night back. The last one catches my eye, more so then the others.
Dear Becky,
Now that you are married, I guess the affair has to end. I am just writing to say goodbye. Last week was amazing, but now it is my turn to move on. No more sexual encounters, no more dreaming of you. I have met someone....
Last week? The week before our marriage. This can't be happening. The next week we conceived Maddie. Oh My God, Maddie. Madison Carter, is she really Madison Carter? One week before the wedding night, this isn't true. The letter slowly falls out of my hands, dropping to the floor as my head follows suit and falls into my hands. Tears burn my eyes, threatening to fall, anger over takes me before draining me of every thing. Every feeling I have ever felt for Rebecca. All those years together, lies. That's what they seem. Nothing can ever be the same.