Life sucked. He couldn't go back to his wife; that would be worse then his current position, and she most likely wouldn't let him come back. He couldn't go to Samantha's---that was a mistake waiting to happen.
He had one option: get a job and support himself. Thankfully he had enough money for a motel room. He spent his first night back in New York, tossing and turning along the hard bed. He couldn't get Samantha's words out of his head. How had he hurt her?
He moved onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep but all he could see was her.
"You know, when Farrell asked me about us, my instinct was to tell him the truth..."
Jack's eyes flashed open and he sat up quickly. He frowned, the words were so clear, as if she was sitting right there in front of him.
"...because it's been really hard for me not telling anyone...being around you all the time and pretending like nothing ever happened, you know?"
He did know. He could feel it. And even though he couldn't remember every moment between them or what it felt like to hold her--kiss her---he knew.
"I don't think I was lying to save you. I think, in that moment, I thought maybe... if I say this, if everybody knows... then it really will be over."
Her voice paused and in his mind he could picture her face, full of sorrow and pain.
"It is over, isn't it?"
As his drifted shut and sleep finally started to overcome him, he heard his voice. It was filled with the same sorrow and the same pain.
"Yeah, it's over."
-
He found a bookstore, down the street from his motel, that was hiring. He didn't really want to have to work there but he was short on choices. He couldn't go back to his old job, considering he didn't even remember what he did there.
Plus, this place gave him a vibe, oddly enough. He felt like he knew, like he'd been there before.
He picked up an application, along with a copy of a book about living in New York. As he walked back to the motel he thought about the book in his hand. Funny how he'd been told that he had lived in New York for most of his life; yet he couldn't remember any of it. He didn't even know what part of the city he was in.
"It would be nice if some of my memories were about this place and not just---her," he muttered to himself, leaning over the wobbly table in his motel room, trying to fill out the application. He didn't know most of the stuff so he left it blank. Maybe they'd over look it.
-
"Mr. Malone, you're hired."
He frowned, staring at the spikey haired manager across from him. "I have to warn you, I can't remember a lot about books."
"I know, I talked to your doctor, he explained your condition to me. Don't worry about it." He shook the manager's hand, smiling in gratitude.
"Thank you, it means alot."
"I have a feeling that you'll be a wonderful addition to the Table of Contents staff."
To Be Continued...
He had one option: get a job and support himself. Thankfully he had enough money for a motel room. He spent his first night back in New York, tossing and turning along the hard bed. He couldn't get Samantha's words out of his head. How had he hurt her?
He moved onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep but all he could see was her.
"You know, when Farrell asked me about us, my instinct was to tell him the truth..."
Jack's eyes flashed open and he sat up quickly. He frowned, the words were so clear, as if she was sitting right there in front of him.
"...because it's been really hard for me not telling anyone...being around you all the time and pretending like nothing ever happened, you know?"
He did know. He could feel it. And even though he couldn't remember every moment between them or what it felt like to hold her--kiss her---he knew.
"I don't think I was lying to save you. I think, in that moment, I thought maybe... if I say this, if everybody knows... then it really will be over."
Her voice paused and in his mind he could picture her face, full of sorrow and pain.
"It is over, isn't it?"
As his drifted shut and sleep finally started to overcome him, he heard his voice. It was filled with the same sorrow and the same pain.
"Yeah, it's over."
-
He found a bookstore, down the street from his motel, that was hiring. He didn't really want to have to work there but he was short on choices. He couldn't go back to his old job, considering he didn't even remember what he did there.
Plus, this place gave him a vibe, oddly enough. He felt like he knew, like he'd been there before.
He picked up an application, along with a copy of a book about living in New York. As he walked back to the motel he thought about the book in his hand. Funny how he'd been told that he had lived in New York for most of his life; yet he couldn't remember any of it. He didn't even know what part of the city he was in.
"It would be nice if some of my memories were about this place and not just---her," he muttered to himself, leaning over the wobbly table in his motel room, trying to fill out the application. He didn't know most of the stuff so he left it blank. Maybe they'd over look it.
-
"Mr. Malone, you're hired."
He frowned, staring at the spikey haired manager across from him. "I have to warn you, I can't remember a lot about books."
"I know, I talked to your doctor, he explained your condition to me. Don't worry about it." He shook the manager's hand, smiling in gratitude.
"Thank you, it means alot."
"I have a feeling that you'll be a wonderful addition to the Table of Contents staff."
To Be Continued...