Story # 2
He felt her weight being lifted from the bedside as she moved to get up and leave, and it was then that his fifth realization hit him. It was time to face the truth. Or at least, now was as good a time as any.
"Teri," he said, opening his eyes and reaching out to stop her.
She turned to look at him, probably wondering if he had really just woken up or if he had been awake the entire time she had been in the room.
"You're awake," she just stated then, maybe deciding it didn't matter, maybe deciding it was better not to know. Like she seemed to do so often these days. There was a time she would have said something, he thought to himself. When she would have been angry or irritated or when she at least would have asked him. But now… It was the little things she seemed to avoid. As if every question, every demand for clarification could be a trap, a trigger for another argument. As if she was constantly walking bare-footed in a room with broken glass shattered on the floor, careful not to make a wrong step. When had things become this…when had they become like this?
The first days back home had been different. The exact opposite, actually. They had fallen back into old routines, certain things had come naturally. But at the same time they had seen each other with different eyes. Watched each other closely, analyzed every move, every gesture, every frown, always on the lookout for signs of discomfort, worried to overlook something that was important. They had tried so hard, to talk, to be sensitive to each other's needs. But the talking had led them to discussions, the discussions to arguments, and in the end silence had fallen between them again. Just like before the separation. So that was why Teri was acting the way she was now. Afraid their oversensitivity would break them up again she had decided to focus on the big issues again and avoid anything else. Or so it seemed. But wasn't that avoiding him? Avoiding them?
"What time is it?" he ended the silence.
"Around noon. You came in late last night," she stated, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice but he could still tell she wasn't happy about it. "Something big going on at work?"
"Just the usual," he replied, realizing too late how this wasn't helping. "It's always a bit crazy this time of the year." Right. Damage control. Or an attempt thereof.
"Kim's barely seen you all week," she pointed out.
"I know." What was he supposed to do? He wasn't a clerk, he couldn't punch out in time every night. He couldn't tell Chappelle to get someone else to work overtime. If she wanted a husband who was home at six sharp, right in time for the family dinner, she should have married someone else.
No, that wasn't fair. She hadn't signed up for this. They had been a couple long before either one of them could have foreseen what the future was holding for him. She had accepted every change, every step of the way, but she had never asked for it.
"Look, I don't wanna be on your back about this all the time, Jack," she sighed, sounding a bit apologetic, "but you said you were gonna cut back."
"I know."
"You said things were gonna be different. But look at us, look at you. You're tired when you get home, you're exhausted, your daughter barely remembers what you look like when you're not –"
"Oh, come on, Teri," he cut her off, trying not to raise his voice though. Why did she have to drag Kim into this every single time. "Kim's hardly the only kid her age with a father who's working a lot."
Teri glared at him for a second but then looked away, obviously trying to stay calm as well.
"No. She's not the only kid her age whose parents separated either. If that's how you wanna look at it, Jack –"
"That's not what I meant," he interjected, but stopped himself before he could work himself up about this. He sat up and raised a hand in a gesture that was supposed to calm her down. To calm them both down. "I know I promised to cut down on my hours. And I'm trying. It's just right now there's a lot going on."
"When isn't there, Jack?" Teri countered with a sad expression, and he didn't know what to reply.
"I made breakfast," she said after a while, taking the coffee she had been holding on to all the time with her as she got up and left. "I'll be in the kitchen."
He lowered his gaze and stared at the sheets in front of him. It always came down to this. To him trying, to Teri forcing herself to be patient but never being happy, to him never giving her a reason to be happy, to them sitting and staring at the wall, the ceiling, or the sheets.
He closed his eyes and could hear her walking through the hallway, hear the clatter of dishes once she was back in the kitchen, and the sound of the radio being switched on. The fact that it hadn't been on before told him that Kim wasn't home or still asleep in her room. Kim. He knew he wasn't there for her as much as he should, as much as he wanted to be, and it was why he hated it when Teri brought it up again and again. Because it meant more guilt on his shoulders, more reasons to feel like crap. About the promises he had made, about the promises he deep down knew he couldn't keep. She was right, there was always a lot going on. There was no way to cut back on his hours, no way to be home at a reasonable time every night, no way to come home and tell his family about his day at work. There just wasn't. It had been stupid to give her the impression there was.
He had tried to compromise, he really had. He had left the military, he had transferred to CTU. He had taken the stupid desk job as head of the office that kept him away from the field. Nothing had ever been good enough, nothing had helped to make things better. The only thing left now was to quit. But where would that leave him? What was he supposed to do? Work for a security company, as a consultant? Sure, he could find a way to make enough money to support his family. And maybe Teri would be happier. Maybe even Kim would be happier, although he had his doubts about that. She didn't seem to care as much as Teri let on. She was a teenager. She didn't need him to hold her hand. And what about him? Wasn't he entitled to stick with the one thing he was good at? He obviously wasn't great as a father or a husband. What guarantee did he have that things would work out even if he quit CTU? What guarantee did he have that things wouldn't go to hell anyway? And what then?
He had been at this point before, asking himself the exact same questions. During and before their separation. Teri had never asked him to but it had always been clear that she would love nothing more than for him to give up his work. She blamed most of what went wrong in their marriage on his work. That work of his that made him pushing her away, made him shutting her out, made him someone other than the person she had married. He couldn't blame her but he couldn't give in on this either. Regardless of what Teri believed, he knew that quitting his work wouldn't make him the person she wanted him to be either. He would get bitter and frustrated, but he certainly wouldn't be a better man. No, it was the one thing he couldn't do, had never been willing to do. Not even for her.
He got up to make his way to the bathroom but stopped in the middle of the room, still hearing Teri in the kitchen. What was he doing? He couldn't put things off any longer. It wasn't doing them any good, and how could he keep pretending this was going to work out after what he had discovered this morning? How could he go on like this just one more day when he knew now what he really wanted?
Nina. Leaving her had been… It had torn him apart. The guilt. Always guilt. The pain. Knowing he had hurt her. She had done her best to conceal it from him, been understanding and even sympathetic. But he hadn't believed it for one second. He knew her. He knew her too well to be deluded by the act she had kept up, knew her too well not to recognize when she was hurting. Too well not to know that it was worst when she didn't let it show. He had almost wished for her to cry or yell at him, curse him or even hit him. It would have been easier than watching her pretend she was fine with it. But he had thought it was for the best. He had thought he owed it to Teri and Kim to try and work things out. He had thought Nina wasn't more than a replacement for Teri anyway. He had thought he was just using her. And we're back to guilt. But he had been wrong.
He had missed her. Since the day he had told her he was going back to Teri, since the day he had told her it was over. He hadn't admitted it to himself but he had missed her. He had seen her at work every day, of course, but it hadn't been the same. They had pretended everything was just as it used to be, that nothing had happened, to keep people from gossiping if for no other reason. But nothing had been as it used to be. He had missed the looks they used to exchange, the blind understanding without words, the ease and the comfort they had always felt around each other. The 'affair' had changed all that. But he had missed her even beyond all that. He had missed her outside the office, missed coming home to someone who knew what he was going through every single day, knew when to make him talk about it and when to let it go. And although he would never have allowed himself to admit it, he had even missed her in the most intimate way. To touch her, to feel her, to run his fingers through her hair… He missed being alone with her, missed lying next to her and feeling the warmth of her body, the touch of her skin against his, the look on her face when she was huddled against him. God, he missed her.
He took a deep breath and walked out of the bedroom, through the hallway and into the kitchen. There would be more guilt, more hurting caused by him. But there was no other way. Someone would get hurt, no matter what he did. When Teri had asked him to move back in, all this time he had tried so hard to do the right thing, to make things right, to make things work. But how could it ever be right when there was no way for it to work, when he knew he wasn't able or willing to give Teri what she wanted, and when he knew this wasn't what he wanted anymore.
She was standing by the sink, pressing fresh orange juice. He took another deep breath before he spoke.
"Teri."
She turned around. "Yes, Jack?"
"We need to talk."