He sighed as he stared down into the glass, the once perfectly formed blocks of ice now ruining a perfectly good scotch. "Shoulda gone with neat," he grumbled as he gestured to the bartender to take it away.
"I know that face," the man said as he ran the bar towel over the mahogany wood. "Waiting on a woman?"
"I guess you do see it a lot, huh?" He tried to smile at his predicament, but it was happening all too often lately. Everyone was chomping at the bit to tell him how kismet he and Victoria were, how they were destined to be together, how nothing would be right in his world until he was with the right woman. Victoria was his family. He'd heard the words over and over again from his mother. And yet, where was she now? If he were a betting man …
He stopped. He wasn't a betting man. Not anymore. The sound of the door opening drew his attention and he readied himself to hear the onslaught of reasons that always seemed to accompany her late arrival. Only this time, it wasn't her at all.
"I've got it, Jack." She reached for the handle of the rolling luggage. "You didn't need to bring me here. I could have taken a car or driven myself. I really think it would have been easier if …"
"I want you to know that I support you, that I'm going to support whatever it is that you think you need right now and if it's this then …" He couldn't say the words, couldn't stand to actually articulate the fact that he was somehow facilitating their separation. There were voices inside his head that fought for control. One demanded he respect her wishes, trust her knowledge of what she needs, and support her choices – whatever they were. The other voice, the louder voice, the more frantic one, called him a fool, chastising him for letting her go, for condoning this, for doing anything that made it easier for them to be apart again.
"Jack," she said softly. It was easy to see the torment on his face. She didn't want to hurt him. She had enough pain to serve them both and then some, but she didn't know what else to do. She didn't know how else to stop the thoughts, the dreams, the sounds. She needed time or space, or something – something she hoped she'd find in the silence and solitude. "I just need this now."
"Okay." He drew in a deep breath and looked at her for a moment. "I can't pretend that I'm okay with this. This isn't what I want and I need you to know that, but I love you enough to do what you need and if this is it then …"
"Thank you." The words felt odd as they slipped past her lips. What exactly was she thanking him for? Hadn't she been powerless enough? Did she now need his permission to take a moment and try to salvage what was left of her sanity?
"You don't have to thank me," he said as if somehow reading the thoughts that crawled through her consciousness. "Here, I'll help you get settled."
"No." The word came out more quickly than she intended and she felt her body tense as he tried to reach for the handle again. "I need to do this myself."
"Okay, but the least I can do is help you get unpacked and make sure that you have everything you need." Her eyes grew narrow as she stared back at him. The stubborn streak he appreciated in so many ways was drifting to the surface. "Come on, Red. At least let me do this. It's hard enough for me to walk away and …"
"I said no, Jack. I told you what I needed and if you really want to help me. If you really want to support me, you'll respect the fact that what I need most from you is for you to go … now." She could hear her voice as it echoed throughout the still foyer. In any other moment, she would have felt a twinge of guilt for the shimmer of tears that glossed over his pale blue eyes, but today she felt some strange sense of vindication. It was bad enough that he truly believed they could move on, put this behind them, live their lives in the moment, not give that man another second of their precious time. If he could ever feel even a sliver of the powerlessness she'd felt, they would be a hell of a lot closer to that resolution.
"That's really what you want?" His voice shook a bit as he stared into her eyes. "You need me to leave … like this?"
She could feel her resolve tremble as the pain in his eyes got more real. "No," she breathed. "I will."
He opened his mouth to speak, but there were no words to say. There was nothing he could do except watch her walk away.
"Jack?"
He squeezed his eyes tight together at the sound of his brother's voice behind him.
"Look Billy, now is really not …"
"I know. Look I … I wasn't trying to … I wasn't trying to listen in on your conversation or anything, but it was kind of … Phyllis was …"
He nodded. "She's just a little upset."
"I could tell." Billy glanced towards the staircase. "Is she gonna be staying here?"
Jack clenched his jaw. "It's a temporary situation."
"She had luggage, Jack. It didn't seem so tempo …"
"Marriage isn't always perfect, Billy," he snapped. "Surely I don't have to be the one to tell you that." The look on his brother's face made him instantly regret his words and he took a step back as he composed himself. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "That's not meant for you. I'm just …" He ran his hands over his face. "I'm … I don't know what I am." He let his eyes drift over to the bar for a moment, his gaze settling on a drink the bartender poured for a businessman that sat on the stool at the end. What he wouldn't give to be able to take the edge off. He had to find another way, a better way, to channel his anger. His mind seemed to hone in on the one singular thing that deserved the venom. "I've got to go," he said sharply. "I'll see you later."
"Jack. Jack, wait." Billy called out into the night as he watched his brother rush towards the parking structure.
