San Fransico-2010
There was no job at the San Francisco Heritage Society that Adaline enjoyed more than working in the newsreel archive. She loved pouring over the old video reels, glimpsing the past through blurry black and white moving images. In here, alone, she could indulge herself in reminiscing in a way she could never do in public. Without any dangerous, curious eyes upon her she could get lost in these pictures from the past. It was history to them all. Even her colleagues, who valued and appreciated the history, still only saw it as history. No one, of course, knew she could look at almost all these records as someone who had lived there. They didn't know that was why she was so good at her job. They didn't know that was why she cared so much.
She had to be careful about how she acted and what she said around them, ever mindful not to let herself get distracted in their presence, lest she allow too much of herself slip out. But she was rarely disturbed in this room. Here she could be herself. There was no hiding required. She could spend hours, sometimes even an entire day in here without being disturbed. So, it was a surprise when she heard someone's voice calling out her name. But it wasn't half as surprising as the shock she felt when she realized who was speaking.
"Adaline."
Her head jerked up at that never used, barely known by anyone, name. It rang out in the quiet room though it had been said as a whisper. When she saw who had spoken it she couldn't even believe her eyes. She felt like she was seeing a ghost from her past, someone who had long since died. Ironically though, this was the one person she knew who never could die.
"Henry," she managed to say though it was more of a question or an exclamation than a greeting. Of all the unbelievable things she'd witnessed in her life, the sight in front of her, his presence here seemed the most unbelievable of all. She hardly recognized him, not because he'd changed at all, but because she had not laid eyes on him for so long she'd nearly forgotten what he looked like.
Adaline hadn't seen Henry since that terrible day in 1985 when he had asked her to leave. When she had left New York after that visit she had been sure that their friendship was over. As much as it had hurt she had resolved herself to living without him and had done her best to try and move on. She had only just managed to begin the process when, several months after that day, she had received a letter from him. The letter was brief and there was no apology or explanation for what had happened between. Against her better judgment she had written him back, going along with his act that nothing had happened and everything was normal, even though she could feel distinctly how much everything was different. Something in her gut had warned her that things would not end well but she had ignored it in her desperate attempt to salvage their friendship.
But she'd still lost him. As painful as that day in his living room had been, it wasn't half as bad as what had followed. The letters continued for a few years but they were nothing like the ones they'd shared before that fight; they completely lacked any heart or substance at all. Over time they became shorter in length and came after longer and longer periods of silence. Henry called her a few times, mostly on holidays, but each time it was like she was talking to a stranger. She'd known for a long time she was losing him and it was a long, torturous thing he'd put her through.
Then eventually the letters stopped all together. Some of hers even came back because Henry had moved on, again, and left no forwarding address. It was cruel really to treat a person that way. If it had been a clean break at least she would have known where she stood. If he hadn't contacted her after their fight she would have known it was over and she could have started to move on then. But when he had sent that first letter it had given her hope again. Then he'd taken it away excruciatingly slowly.
Maybe it was her fault. He'd never once apologized for what he'd said or the way he'd treated her that day and she'd never required him to. She knew that she really should have but she'd just been so afraid of losing him that she'd taken whatever he was willing to give. Henry was the only friend she got to keep. There was no one like him and if she lost him, he would be impossible to replace. But her efforts had done her little good in the end.
Looking at him now she wasn't sure at all what to feel. Remarkably, she felt very little. She used to imagine what this moment would be like. She'd pictured seeing Henry again and what she would say and how she would react. She'd imagined every scenario on the spectrum from raging anger to tears of happiness. But it had been a long time since she'd had any of those kinds of daydreams and now that it was actually happening she found she felt none of those things. She found herself feeling nothing at all. Henry was nothing to her anymore. Maybe it wasn't so remarkable considering it had been many years since she'd even received a letter from him; he was no longer a part of her life.
He let out a sigh and smiled just barely as he looked at her. "You look good. Really good. Just the same." He sounded reassured to find her appearance unchanged which she thought was very strange considering agelessness was their enemy.
"You don't," she replied. He didn't look good and he didn't look the same. Of course he hadn't changed physically at all but he didn't look like Henry, at least not the Henry she used to know. The Henry she had known, the Henry she'd loved, had been classy; very mindful of his appearance. She didn't know who this man was. He was sloppy. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He had several days' growth on his face and his hair was longer than she'd remembered, like he forgotten to get it cut a few weeks ago. She didn't know what to make of his careless appearance. It was so out of character of the man she knew.
But she didn't actually know Henry. Not anymore.
He looked a little hurt by her words but nodded slightly like he had to agree. She didn't care if he was hurt. Resentment, the first emotion to make an appearance, sprung up in her chest. She latched on to that anger and let it grow, lest some other less desirable, more vulnerable emotion should try to replace it. Henry had only been here a minute and he was already provoking emotions in her which did not bode well for the conversation ahead. Anger was, by far, her safest option right now.
He looked at her, waiting, and she could see that he hoped she would say something else but she didn't. She had no idea what to say. She wasn't even sure what was happening or how she felt about it. He was the one who had shown up unexpectedly after years apart; let him be the one to decide what to say.
"This place is wonderful," he said finally gesturing around the room. "I can see why you like it so much here. And you're more than qualified. More than anyone else could ever hope to be."
She just glared at him. His words only made her angrier. With all the water that had flowed under the bridge, did he really think they were just going to talk? And small talk at that? It made it seem like what he had done was small and that he had no idea of the pain he had put her through.
He noticed the expression on her face and he became more serious. "Adaline-" he started but this pushed her into action.
"Don't call me that," she hissed. "Not here. My name is Jennifer now." She closed the door, looking around nervously, hoping that none of her co-workers had heard.
She leaned against the closed door and stared at him again. He was a mess. She could see how worried, no scared, he was of talking to her. He understood exactly how badly he had messed up. Of course, he was trying to be casual and keep things light; he never had been good with conflict. But she could see the truth all over his face. He never had been able to hide what he really felt. Henry, always wearing that big bleeding heart on his sleeve. She loved that about him.
She shook her head quickly and looked away from him. No, she didn't love him, not anymore. She was angry and she would stay angry. She hated him for abandoning their friendship. Despised him for what he'd put her through over the years. But there was a small part of her, a part that, try as hard she could, she could not deny. That part wanted nothing more than to run to him now, to talk to him, to touch him. That part had missed him so much it ached. She hated herself for that part. She wanted to be filled with nothing but rage. She wanted to send him packing just like he deserved but that terrible small part wouldn't let her do that just yet.
She tried to repress that part of her that was so willing to take him back, to feel sorry for him. After all, she had been easy on him before and what had it gotten her? Nothing. But he looked so pitiful she knew it was going to be hard to stay mad at him if he kept it up. It had been easy to stay mad at him when he was far away; it was not nearly as easy when he was standing right before her.
"I'm sorry. I forgot," he said, with more sincerity than she'd expected. "You change it so often, I forget what it is." And of course, he'd always called her by her given name. He knew the truth about her and she'd never wanted him to use her aliases.
She crossed her arms in an attempt to feel stronger. "I change it every 10 years," she shot back. That wasn't often and, if he had been around, he would have known what her current alias was. Even though she had always been Adaline to him he'd still never gotten her fake name wrong. Not before...
There were suddenly tears in her eyes and she was frustrated by them. He'd been gone for so long that she thought she'd put it all behind her but all of that hurt was coming back so quickly.
She hadn't known how she would handle life without him. Henry had been a part of her life ever since she'd been forced to face the reality that she wasn't aging anymore. He'd been there to help her ever since she began her life on the run. She hadn't known how she was going to bear her secret without him there. But after he'd forced her out of his life she'd found a way. She'd had to. She had Flemming who knew her secret and she found a way to content herself with that. Aside from her daughter, she pulled away from the world. She would have to admit that the hurt he'd caused her had pushed her further into isolation than what her secret already required.
It wasn't fair. He was mad at her for something that was completely out of her control. He had pulled away because she could die and he couldn't. That wasn't anything she could change. It hadn't mattered to him that she would do anything to make it possible for him if she could. For years they had been a team until he drew a line between them. He'd left her feeling like she was all alone and not understood by anyone in the world. She knew he'd been in terrible pain at the time but she had been trying to help him. Her approach may not have been perfect but her heart had been in the right place.
And now he was back and bringing it all up. It startled her how much of that old pain and affection came back to her and with such intensity. She'd come to accept that she would never know him again and here he was making her want it all over again. What good reason could he possibly have for being here?
She waited on him to speak, to explain himself. She didn't trust herself enough to talk right now. She would either start crying or screaming and she didn't want to do either.
"So..." he said. "You're back in San Francisco. It must be nice to be back home. I know you haven't been here in a long time."
He didn't seem to know where to start any more than she did. But she knew that this wasn't good enough. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I wanted to see you," he said nervously.
Her arms were already held so tightly to herself but she squeezed her arms with her fingers hard to distract herself from how good it felt to hear him say that. "Really, Henry?" she asked skeptically.
"Really," he answered genuinely. "You're angry. It's alright; you have every right to be."
"25 years, Henry."
"I know," he said looking down in shame.
"You've been gone for 25 years and you just come back like nothing has even happened. You know I may look exactly the same as I did back then but I'm not. That's a long time even if you don't age."
"I know and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We did stay in touch though."
She had thought it would be better if he said 'sorry' but she didn't feel any better. It was an apology but it still felt like he was trying to make an excuse. "Barely. For a while. And it's not the same and you know it."
"I know."
"And now you just show up here out of the blue?"
"I wanted to write before I came but I wasn't sure exactly where you were living."
"And whose fault is that?" she bit back.
He sighed sadly. "It's mine."
"I, was the one who wanted to stay in touch, tried everything to stay in touch. You were the one picking up and moving at the drop of a hat without even telling me where you were going. After my last few letters came back to me, I got the hint."
Her voice was getting angrier and angrier but her eyes were watering with tears. I missed you, she thought. But she could not bear to say it out loud. It would feel too real and it would undo her.
It was like he read her mind. It used to be that way between them. They used to always be on the same wavelength. "I missed you," he said. It was so quiet, so heartfelt. It was too much. She walked to the other side of the room to put some distance between them. She couldn't bear being close to him. The tears were starting to come and she didn't want him to see that he had made her cry.
"Don't say that."
"But it's the truth."
"No. You don't get to say that. Not when you're the one who left."
"But I do miss you."
"Why now?" she asked, paying special attention to her voice to make it sound strong. "Why would you come to see me after all of this time?"
"I was wrong. All those years ago...I was wrong. You were right about me, about...Abigail," he managed. The name still seemed to cause him a great deal of pain. "When she left I got lost. I didn't know what to do without her. I wanted to die."
"I know that," she snapped. After all, it was the reason he had left her. She did not need to be reminded of it.
"Well," he said, clearly stumbling. He was growing more uncomfortable as she was growing more hostile. "Obviously, that wasn't an option. So, I thought…I felt…"
"What?" she said shortly. She was growing impatient. She just wanted Henry to get to the point so that she could decide how she felt about it. She didn't need a lot of extra time in which to grow even more emotional.
"I wanted to stop living. If I couldn't die I decided I would just do my best to stop living, to not feel, to not enjoy anything."
"None of this was my fault. It wasn't fair. I always…" loved you, she thought but could not bear to say it. "I was just trying to help you."
"I know that. That's why I left."
The look on his face was so remorseful and she didn't understand his expression or his words. "What are you talking about?"
"I had to get away from you. Honestly, I wanted to destroy myself and I knew you would never allow me to do that to myself. I tried to keep talking to you for a while but I kept going into a darker and darker place. I knew I couldn't fool you forever about what was really going on and I knew that once you understood what was happening you would intervene. I never doubted you cared for me."
The last sentence was so filled with care; it was so much the Henry she used to know. How was it possible for him to have such an effect on her after being gone for so long? She put her hands to her stomach which now felt like it was about to drop to the floor. This was not what she had expected him to say; she was not prepared for this.
"You were a true friend to me," he continued, "and I knew you would only do what was best for me. Even if that meant…moving on. I didn't want to do that then."
She couldn't help her curiosity. "And now?"
He paused. "I'm ready to do that," he said with difficulty. "Not living my life isn't going to change anything. It won't bring Abigail back. She made her decision and I need to make mine. I need to start living my own life again."
This was everything she had wanted for Henry. All she had ever wanted was for him to be able to heal but that had been a long time ago. After waiting for this for so many years she wasn't sure she cared anymore.
"I thought you were angry at me."
"I wanted to be angry but I wasn't. I wanted to stay in denial and you wouldn't let me. But I knew, even then, that you were right and I was wrong. I knew you cared and wanted to help me and I just refused the help."
"I thought you hated me."
Henry was obviously shocked. "Hated you? Hated? For what?"
"Because I'm not immortal. For being able to have what you can't."
"That doesn't matter to me."
"Yes, it does!"
"It doesn't matter to me as much as you matter to me."
She thought she had put that day behind her. But to hear him now acknowledge what she had so wanted him to then, to know he had known the truth all along, she knew she hadn't put any of it behind her. A sob escaped her mouth before she could stop it.
"Adaline-" he said, starting to approach her.
She held up a hand to stop him. He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her. She really wanted him to and she didn't want him to all at the same time. She turned her back to him because she needed to think. This was new information. Things were so different than she'd been thinking they were all this time. There was a war of emotions inside of her and she didn't know how to deal.
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" she asked.
"I'm telling you now."
"Well, maybe now it's too late." She said it with more strength than she really felt. She said it with the conviction she wanted to feel but didn't. The years apart may have made her colder and hard but not enough that she didn't still want him.
"I really hope not," he said quietly.
Things could have been resolved and so much sooner if he'd only told her. Now it had been so long and there was so much damage she wasn't sure if things could be fixed.
"I trusted you. You know how hard that is," she said, her voice still sounded angry but it was starting to break.
"I know." He sounded like he was going to cry too.
She turned to face him. Tears were running down her face now but she didn't care anymore. She hadn't known what to say at the start but now it came rushing out. It had been building for years. "Henry, I don't have friends, you know that. At least, not ones I can really be close to or ones that I can know for more than a few years at a time. You know we can't just trust people. But you were the one exception to that rule. I could be myself with you; you could actually know me without all the secrets because we had this in common. You could actually be someone I didn't have to give up. You made me feel like I wasn't alone. And then you left me. Alone. You broke my heart."
She let out a shudder. She hadn't meant to say all of that, especially that last bit. But it had been playing in her head for so long and it felt good to get rid of it. It felt like a weight lifted from her and she hoped it hurt him.
Henry definitely looked like he was going to cry now. He could see how much he had hurt her now and that hurt him. But watching his heart break was not as satisfying as she thought it would be.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am that I hurt you, Adaline. I would do anything to take it all back, to do everything differently. You are the best friend I've ever had in my entire life."
She was crying in earnest now. She didn't want to but she couldn't help it. All of the anger had bled out of her so fast and without it there was only the pain. She looked down, her soft crying the only sound in the room for a few minutes. For so long all she wanted from him was to say he was sorry, to admit he was wrong and to know that she cared. But now that he had, it didn't fix everything. It still hurt and things were still so messed up.
"I want things back the way they were before," he said.
She squeezed her eyes shut, the tears hot against her lids. That's what she wanted too. So much. "I don't know if they can be," she moaned.
"Maybe not," he said quietly, sadly. "But we could try. Are you willing to try?" He was pleading with her.
"I don't know. I can't go through all of this again."
"I won't let you down like that again."
"I cannot lose you again," she stressed.
"If you just give me a second chance I won't betray you again. I promise."
"What good are your promises?" she shouted. She was filled with rage and hurt. She hated him for putting her through all of this. She hated him for being her friend, for making her love him in the first place and then for leaving her. She hated him for coming back to her now and she hated herself for wanting him still. She was frozen in place with eyes shut, arms crossed and head hung as she cried, not even caring that it was angry and ugly.
She stayed like that for so long and it was so all-consuming she didn't hear him. It took her a while to finally open her eyes and look at him. She found he'd slumped down to his knees. He had his face in his hands and he was weeping.
She wanted to stay mad at him. She wanted to be unforgiving. But he looked so pitiful she just couldn't leave him like that. Not Henry.
It doesn't matter to me as much as you matter to me.
As it had been with his envy so it was with her anger. She still had so many hurt feelings that would need to be mended and part of her still felt she hated him. But none of that was as powerful as how much she cared for him and always had.
She walked over to him and reached out. She paused for just a second before she put her hand on his shoulder. It had been decades and it felt strange yet so familiar. To her surprise, he jerked away like an injured animal trying to escape the help it needed.
Still crying with his face in his hands he spoke though it was hard to understand through the tears. "I'm such a fool. I ruin everything. I mess up everything with everyone who means the most to me. I'm alone and it's all my fault. I've made everyone go away," he said and started to cry even harder.
She kneeled next to him and reached out to his shoulders again, though firmer this time. "Henry," she said gently.
He wouldn't look at her; he was too ashamed, too regretful, and she had to place a hand on his face to make him look up. His face was an even sadder sight and it hurt her so much. What had he gone through since they'd last been together? It was obviously much more than he'd ever written to her in those vague letters. She couldn't imagine what might have caused all the pain displayed on his face.
"Will you forgive me?" he asked. "I know I don't deserve it. But I need you...and I want you to be in my life again. I miss you so much and I want to make it up to you."
She knew he'd just laid out his whole heart to her. She could crush it right now and destroy him if she wanted. She could have the revenge she had wanted for so long. She could pay him back for the years of absence. But that was the very last thing she wanted. She started to cry again. He was sorry. He was different. She knew it now. She also knew that, anger or no anger, it was always going to end like this. The bond between them was too strong to have been broken even by all that had happened.
"Of course I forgive you."
He closed his eyes and cried in relief. She reached out to hold him and he quickly threw his arms around her in response. He held her tight and she buried her face in his shoulder and let herself lose it in tears. She sobbed feeling the relief of his comfort just like she had so many times during their friendship, just as she'd longed to do so many times since.
"I do want to try," she admitted. "I do want to try again with you."
They cried together for a long time and she marveled that he still felt the same. After all these years was it really possible that their friendship could remain? It certainly seemed like a possibility now. The pain and distance that had felt so insurmountable suddenly didn't seem so impossible to conquer.
They were both a mess when they pulled apart. She was once again glad that she was never disturbed here in the archive. This would have been awkward to explain to a co-worker if they had walked in on this. Henry reached in his pocket and handed her his handkerchief. She actually laughed a little; some things never changed. She reached out and touched one of his unusually long curls. "You need a haircut," she said.
He smiled a little and wiped his face as she cleared off hers. It was quiet and she took a deep breath trying to steady her shaky voice before she spoke.
"Henry...it's time for you to go back home. To New York. To Abe."
"I know. But...I haven't been there much for him either. What if he doesn't forgive me?" he said, looking down.
Adaline placed a hand on his chin and turned his face towards her. "Of course, he'll forgive you. He'll be mad, sure. That might last for a while. Actually, knowing Abe it will last for a while. But he'll forgive you right away."
"How...what makes you think that?"
"I did," she said with a smile. "And he loves you even more."
"You really think so?"
"Of course. He wants you back."
Henry looked like he was on the verge of being overwhelmed again by thoughts of his son. "How can you be sure?"
"Because he's told me many times how much he misses you."
"You've been talking to him?"
Adaline smiled, a real one this time. "Of course I have. You know how much I care about him."
"You're such a good friend," he said his lips quivering with emotion. He looked amazed at her concern for Abe and regret in feeling he hadn't done as good of a job looking after his own son.
She hugged him again. He needed so much reassuring now that his heart had been cut open everything in it spilled out. He was returning to himself, emotional as ever. "I've missed you," he said again softly, now in her arms.
She had missed him too, so terribly. So much that, even though she felt it completely, she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. It felt like if she did, even though she finally had him back, she wouldn't be able to bear it. If she admitted how much she had missed him she felt the weight of the loss she had experienced might crush her in an irreversible way.
Instead she smiled and, squeezing him a little harder, said, "We have a lot of catching up to do."
They hadn't seen each other in so many years. Henry had missed so much. As he was so fond of saying, it was a long a story, and Adaline couldn't wait to tell him.