Chapter 170

No one said it would be easy

Having unequivocally told Lainey that she wanted to lay down the chains that were tying her to her past and keeping her from moving forward, she had been given what felt like more homework than she ever had in college. The most daunting, ongoing work involved her sitting quietly - almost meditatively - and focusing on one issue or memory and then writing down the feelings that it provoked. The idea was to write without censor and in so doing discover some of the root issues. It was an intense and exhausting exercise but she pushed herself through it, feeling each time she did she was one step closer to Patrick.

Sitting cross legged on her bed, the journal opened in front of her, Robin tapped her pen against her lips in search of the thought that had just evaporated. Normally she had little difficulty focusing but in the three days since dinner with Alexis and Eric her mind repeatedly drifted back to the kiss on the porch. While not a passionate, make you go weak in the knees, type of kiss his lips felt seared against her skin nonetheless. He had let her take his hand and then in a surprising turn of events had pulled her towards him. She could still smell him, feel the heat from his body and see the outline of his new physique pushing at the material of his shirt. That alone would normally be cause for distraction but it was feeling his lips on her skin that had her reeling. She had tried to identify the kiss and thereby categorize it to better understand where his head was but it was proving rather elusive. It wasn't a sad kiss - though there was a hint of sadness to it; there was most definitely love as he had touched her though she didn't pick up on any regret. Like many things about Patrick, it was defying description. And with her focus on that, she was finding it difficult to get through the work in front of her.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to return her focus to her original question. How did she feel when she realized that Patrick had lied to her about being sick? Opening her eyes, she picked up her pen and started to write.

Pissed. I was pissed and angry and hurt that after everything not only did he not tell me, I had to find the truth out from his friend. But there wasn't actually any time to feel that way because he was already so sick. And he was sure he was going to die - like his mother had. When I confronted him there was no room for me to tell him how pissed I was because he was barely holding it together and my anger was not what he needed.

Robin paused and re-read what she wrote. Swallowing thickly, she considered her words. Her anger was not what he needed, that was true; he had been so fragile that night, his grip on his world so tenuous. But seeing it in black and white before her she realized that she never really factored her need into the equation. Flipping back through her journal she skimmed some of what she had written about Stone and Jason and found a similar sentiment. They would be in crisis and so regardless of her feelings, she would do what they needed;it was a pattern of behaviour that had repeated most of her adult life. They may not have needed her anger but she sure did and each time she denied it she put another crack in her own foundation. Her difficulty in trusting people had roots in honest to goodness betrayals but it also stemmed from her inability to trust that she could put her feelings first. None of the men in her life had asked her to put her feelings to the side, she had just done so because she thought she should.

Without pausing, she started to write again. Sometimes I don't think I'm entitled to feel how I do and so it's easier not to. It's easier to concentrate on someone else's feelings so I don't have to deal with my own.

She had not even realized she was crying until the page went blurry before her eyes. And she suddenly understood that Patrick had not only not asked her to put her feelings to the side but had tried to encourage her to get them out. Thinking back to those days after April Gilbert's death when she felt so unbelievably broken, when long dormant feelings had reawoken and put a vice grip around her, he had given her all kinds of time and space to be angry, to be sad, to rage even if she needed it. But he had done so staying by her side. It had been one of the few times she had been truly unguarded with him.

Shaking her head, she flopped back against her pillows and stared up at the ceiling. It had been during that time that he had first experienced his symptoms - the tremors, the headaches and even the numbness in his fingertips. And he had ignored them. He had ignored them to concentrate on her. They were more alike than she had even realized. Both of them would rather deal with the other's feelings than their own. Neither of them trusted themselves and in the end made it almost impossible to trust each other. If they were going to rebuild their trust then they were going to have stop running from their feelings about themselves and start dealing with them head on. It was clear to her that she was going to have tell him honestly - probably brutally so - about how she really felt. And then she was going to have to forgive him - and mean it. All of it felt suddenly so very overwhelming.

Exhaling slowly, she rubbed her belly. "Baby, I hope you're going to be more together than your parents. And I promise we'll try really hard not to screw you up."

****
"Not that you were ever really talkative," Eric said as he twisted the cap off his beer, "but we've been sitting here for 20 minutes and all you've done is stare at me and the pool table. So either you're contemplating challenging me to a game, in which case I will happily take your money or something is rolling around in your surgically repaired noggin. Care to share?"

Jake's was practically deserted. The lights on the jukebox flashed in syncopation with the music and the low hum of several conversations buzzed around the bar. Eric had been at home on a day off when he received a text from his friend - three words - I'm at Jake's. When he arrived at the bar he found him sitting alone at a table building towers with the bowl of pretzels. He called for two beers and took the seat across from him.

"I'm thinking of serving Robin with joint custody papers," he said when he finally spoke. He waited a full three seconds before he met Eric's eyes. "You think it's a bad idea."

Pursing his lips together, he gave a small shake of his head. "No. I don't think it's a bad idea." A small wave of confidence washed over Patrick. "I think it's a momumentally stupid idea. Are you out of your ever loving mind?"

Shrugging defensively, he leaned back in his chair. "No. What's wrong with wanting to firm up custody arrangements before the baby comes?"

"Nothing is wrong with that except that's not what you're trying to do. You're angry. You've been sad for a few weeks but now you're angry and you want to lash out at her. And hey, nothing says 'I hate you' like legal papers."

"I don't hate her" he muttered.

"I know you don't. So why are you so willing to throw in the towel?"

"I think the towel has already been thrown" he shot back. "Now it's to sort out the details."

Eric took a sip from his beer and cast a critical glance over his friend. It was easy to see that while his physical health was improving, his emotional health was not doing as well.

"How many weeks is she?"

"12 - next week."

"Well I'm no math genius - except I am - and 12 weeks means there is still six months before your child makes its grand entrance. A lot can happen in six months Pantsy. People come back from almost dying in six months - hearts get repaired in six months. There is no rush for you to cement anything about custody yet so stop trying to sabotage yourself."

"Fuck you" he spat.

"Okay" he replied, unfazed. "You know, no matter what happens between you two, at some point you are going to have to forgive her."

Patrick dropped his gaze to the table. He might as well have asked him to reveal the formula for cold fusion. Forgiveness was not something he excelled at - in fact he failed miserably at it most of the time. He feelings were confusing and defying comprehension for him. He knew his heart was broken or breaking at least and yet when she held his hand, when her fingers curled around his he could have sworn he felt the pieces gluing themselves back together. And that scared him. It was hard enough to end things once but the idea that he might have to live through this again shook him to his core.

"She can't seem to forgive me" he said sourly. "So why should I try to forgive her?"

"Because forgiveness isn't about the other person," he told him. "It's about you. Forgiveness sets a person free - generally the one doing the forgiving."

"So is that why you forgave Karen? And happily look at pictures of her and her baby?" He regretted both his tone and his question as soon as he spoke and the small grimace on his friend's face told him he had pushed just a bit too far.

"As a matter of fact, yeah it is." Taking another long swig of his beer before setting the bottle down on the table, he leaned forward and looked at his friend. "Look Pantsy, I hate what she did. I hate that she told me she didn't love me enough to watch me die or to help me live. But holding on to that punished me, not her. And life is too fucking short to walk around with an albatross around your neck."

"I know life is short" he rasped. "And the time that Robin and I have to be a family is even shorter and I hate that there are days ticking by and we aren't together but I don't know what to do."

"For starters, don't file custody papers. And if Robin is working on her shit, maybe it's time for you to work on yours."

"I'm not going to a shrink" he told him defiantely.

"So don't. There other ways to deal with things."

"Like how?"

"Like start by asking yourself why you do the things you do and go from there. Pantsy, you're about to become a father - you owe it to yourself and to your kid to make sure you're as together as you can be."

Realizing his friend was right, he nodded. "I'm going to be a good father to my kid" he told him. Picking up his beer, he drained it. "And a good husband if I ever get the chance."