Author's Notes: Not writing alot because its been a long day, men are synonymous with morons, and I have a major headache... Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!!! And enjoy the next chapter... Things start moving along...
He places the plate of steaming pasta in front of me. My plans didn't go exactly as planned. I had wanted to drop him off and then go home to get some rest. I ended up spending the whole day with him. First giving him a tour of the house, then the grounds, then he begged me to walk him through the pictures. I thought that it would help him get his memory back so I could leave and never have to see him again and the kids could have their father back. No such luck, of course. By four I was so tired, I told him I needed to lie down for at least three hours. He said he would make dinner. So here we are, in his kitchen, silverware spread out on the black counter, the whole room lite up. A breeze comes in from the open patio doors. I don't have a memory of him cooking dinner, rolling up his sleeves to actually do something that would allow me to relax. It had been only about five or six months since me and Amy sat in the same position, talking about a painful divorce. That's the reason I'm here. The divorce. I'm here because my kids have suffered enough, they need not suffer more.
"I'm sorry its just pasta, but I had enough trouble finding the pots and pans."
I shake his comment off, and dig my fork into the steaming entree. I'm starving to death. Lunch can only hold me over for so long. He sits down across from me and does the same, and we eat in a strained silence for a while. I want to finish dinner, and get out of there without seeming rude. I have this bad feeling that its not going to be possible.
"You know, I might still have that map you drew me when I moved in... I got lost every other night for a few months."
He lets out a small laugh, and the tension is eased just a bit. I don't look up at him, he sits starring at his almost empty plate. I'm halfway through my dinner, and I suddenly realize my appetite's gone. I don't know. This is all getting to me, I shouldn't have to be putting up with this. Doesn't a divorce mean a clean break? I play with the rest of my food for a few minutes until I finish about half of the remaining half, and push it away. I mutter a thank you, and he collects the plates, throwing them into the sink. He sits back down, and at the same time I pick up the glass of water in front of me. I sip on it slowly, hoping he won't spark any conversation. Maybe he'll suggest that I go because he's tired and needs his rest.
"You spent the whole day talking about our kids, but you never said a word about us."
Way to be subtle, Carter. Although I don't think he was aiming to be subtle. I think he wanted to throw me through an unexpected loop. And yes, it did work. Except I'll never let him know that. I know my body just tensed up, my mind doesn't freeze. I've been lying my whole life, I'm pretty good at it. Those little harmless white lies, of course.
"There is no 'us' anymore. The divorce went through in January."
"It doesn't mean that we don't have history. I had to have a reason to marry you. There must be a reason we stayed together for those twenty some-odd years. I'm trying to link everything together, and you're the only one from my past that's in my present. Explain it to me, because it doesn't make sense."
I shrug my shoulders. He's looking a bit agitated, but I think that's because he keeps on trying to remember his life, and its not working. I really want to go home. This is the longest me and him have spent in each other's company in years. I don't like the feelings that are going through my body. I'm not regretting anything, I just feel so uncomfortable. I feel like I'm letting a complete stranger into my family's personal life.
"I told you before, we were doomed from the beginning."
"It doesn't make sense, Abby. If there was never anything between us, then why did we stay together for so long? Why didn't we just split up before we had any children? You can keep telling yourself its explainable, but I don't get it."
It's all explainable if he only knew the history. If he knew both ends of the story. He probably thought I didn't suffer after the first time we broke up, but I did. I suffered through it all, because I thought I found somebody I loved. We were broken. We broke our relationship, and it could never be restored. Time only undid the threads and glue we used to piece it back together. He was never happy, he tried to convince himself and myself that we were happy, but we weren't. We were just slowly slipping away.
"We just had to work so hard at everything. Too hard. I think that at one point you convinced yourself that I was the right woman for you - reliable and safe, and I don't know, stable - but I don't think that's what you really wanted. I don't think you ever really wanted me. And then when we were finally together, it didn't become what either of us thought it would be. Maybe we even put each other on pedestals, I don't know. I didn't end up being what you expected. I never lived up to your expectations. We worked better unfettered, separate. We held on because when we realized it, we had three children. We wanted to give them a happy childhood. We faked our whole marriage. That's why none of this makes sense. We lied to our children to make them happy."
One big happy lie. That's what we were: liars. And very good ones at that. The people that knew about the divorce, didn't want to believe it. We were always together outside of the house, always smiling, holding hands. I think it turned into a game, make people want to be like us. The lie slowly turned into habit, while we spent more and more time away from each other at home.
"I've heard that before. Somewhere. I just don't know where."
Sure, Carter will remember a letter he wrote me almost two decades ago, but he can't remember his own children's names. That makes a lot of sense. Of course nothing made sense when it came to us. I push away from the table. I should get going home, this night is going to kill me, if anything. I make my way to the door, I left my purse on the desk by the door out of habit. I hear his steps echoing behind me. I grab my purse from the table, but he has an open window. He stands in front of the door, blocking my exit. Well there are about ten different ways to get out of the house. I'll just take another exit. I turn around to head toward the side door, but he grabs me.
"Don't... Don't go, stay here please talk to me. There's something about you, something I can't even explain, but I'm drawn to you. Something about you makes me want to know more. More about us. About what happened... What went wrong.. you were a part of me and I want to know why you aren't anymore."
I push him away from me. Now he remembers that maybe we might have had something? All those years of chasing each other, giving each other ultimatums, lying to each other about our feelings? Now he decides its about time that he tells me I might have meant something to him at one time or another? Not happening, not to me, not tonight, not ever.
"Yeah, well, not anymore. I promised to take you home. I took you home. If you need anything, call Rob or Ethan. They live ten minutes away. Don't turn to me, you didn't need me before. You certainly don't need me now. I divorced you for a reason, so I wouldn't have to pretend any longer. I'm done pretending. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be around you. I don't love you, or need you, or want to help you. Let me go."
He stops trying to follow me or stop me. I open the door and slam it straight in his face. He's probably going to stand there dumbstruck for a while. I don't care. He's a stranger to me. He's nothing to me. A small part of me expected him to run out the door, after me. But he didn't. He didn't the other time, so why the hell should he now? He's not pulling this stunt with me. I'm done. My daughter's on her way to Boston, my sons are back on track with school, and my Millie is probably bored out of her mind at home. I should pull her out and take her to a movie or something. I shouldn't have put Carter before my daughter like I just did. Now, I'm a bad mother too.