Thursday

Wow! Now today was an absolute doozy! As I try and put down in writing all of the many and varied events of the day, I feel like I have started writing for a daytime soap opera! Unknown twins and medical emergencies, storms and bourbon lunches, oh my!

How it started…

Oliver took Norman with him to talk to Matt Jacobs and potentially reveal who his brother was. As Oliver told it, Matt had no idea he had a sibling. His mother (well their mother) was there and had to confirm it all with no plan or forewarning. That poor woman! Those poor twins!

Poor Ardis, with blocked aortas needing surgery! Ardis might be the Queen of the B'armi in fact, but she is the Queen of the Postables in our hearts. This amazing woman was preparing for surgery, and all the while she was scheming to get Matt and Joshua together. Ardis is a true class act.

How it continued….

I must say, if anyone has told me that I would voluntarily spend time in a hospital, I would have laughed, and yet Rita, Norman, Oliver and I all sat for hours waiting for Ardis's surgery to end. Embarrassingly, I drifted off to sleep on Oliver's shoulder. I was comfortable, but I am not sure that Oliver was. Thankfully, Ardis, under the care of Dr Joshua, made it through her surgery just fine.

Ardis certainly worked her magic, and Joshua, Matt and their mum began the long path to truth and possible reconciliation. I think they are going to get there. I am not so sure about the triplets in Singapore (diary I don't even know how to document that one)!

Oh, darling Rita, wearing her beautiful heart for all to see (except Norman of course). Foolishly, I asked Oliver if he thought that the two of them would ever get to the point and stop dancing around, 'I love you'. He was sure they would, when the timing was right. I thought that sounded exhausting.

How it ended?

I had to expect an inquisition from Oliver about his letter. I am not sure if it was mentioning that we could not all be poets that brought the letter to his mind, but whatever it was, he came straight out and asked me, in a very un-Oliverian manner, if I had in fact read his letter to Holly. I could honestly say no, but perhaps that was for lack of opportunity and not will. I ached to know. I ached for him, too, in his uncertainty. I tried to draw the parallel between his letter and mine from my father. I was afraid to read what it contained, and I thought that he was afraid to mail the letter he had composed.

Oliver refuted this. He was not afraid to mail the letter. But if he was not afraid of that, what was his fear? Was he being pedantic – not afraid of mailing the letter, but afraid of the response it would provoke? Was it a fear of rejection? Or perhaps a fear that Holly would return? His current stasis was safe, undemanding. Whatever happened, moving forward, sending the letter would mean change. Was that his fear? A horrid thought came unbidden as he excused himself and went to see Ms. Jacobs – was I, with my meddling and manipulation, pushing his to face what he buried and hid what he actually feared?

I guess it doesn't matter now. In a torrential downpour no less, Oliver has sent his letter.

P.S.

On my bookshelf I found a pretty battered 'Dictionary of Quotations' left over from my debating days. I don't know why I started thumbing its pages tonight, but whatever the cause, I found my way to the Shakespearean entries. How apt. My eyes kept returning to one quote:

"If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly

That ever love did make thee run into,

Thou has not loved."

– As You Like It, Act 2, scene 3

I must have re-read that a dozen times. Oh diary, I have done something incredibly stupid. This was my folly. How could I not see it? How have I fooled myself like this? Becky saw it. I think Rita did too. Oh, diary has he? No, no, no, no, no! How could I be so idiotic? He is married. He is sending his wife a letter. Not me, his wife! I am a fool. Now, I need to make a choice. Do I stay and hope, or do I hide and run?