1988 (Continued)
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Jack stood near the arrival gate, holding Kim in his arms, all tensed up. It had been nearly three months since Teri left for Italy. A few weeks ago, he had regained the ability to drive again, a small freedom that gave him the chance to escape from the base and the watchful eyes of his neighbors. Heather's constant surveillance and the awkward tension with Samantha made being at the base housing suffocating. Getting behind the wheel and leaving it all behind, even just for a few hours, to make a little trip with Kim, had been a welcome relief.
The kiss with Samantha still haunted him, creeping into his mind during the quiet moments. He told himself it was okay—that she had initiated it, and he had pulled away before anything worse happened. But the guilt lingered, gnawing at him. It wasn't just the kiss; it was everything that had led up to it. The distance between him and Teri, the way their conversations had deteriorated and at one point even stopped.
After that day, he had tried to reach out to her over the phone, calling despite cost, but Teri always seemed busy, too busy to talk.
So now, standing at the arrival gate, Jack was tense. He didn't know what to expect from Teri when she walked through those doors. Would she still be angry? Had her time in Italy softened her, or had it only deepened the distance between them? He didn't know if the woman he had loved would step off the plane or a stranger who'd become even more distant over these months.
He had come to the airport early, much earlier than he needed to, partly because of the snowstorm that threatened to hit Boston and partly because he couldn't stand being at home. He'd spent the extra time up on the visitor's terrace, holding Kim and pointing out the planes as they took off and landed. She was only 20 months old, too young to understand, but Jack found himself explaining things anyway—why the taxiways were marked with yellow lines, why the lights were blue, how stop bars worked. Talking about these small details distracted him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to think about flying again. His recent promotion had come with a 10% raise, and the thought crossed his mind—maybe, just maybe, he could rent a plane someday, get back in the cockpit. But the thought left him almost as quickly as it came. He couldn't justify spending family money on something like that, not after all they had gone through to get back on stable financial ground. Teri would never forgive him for such selfishness.
As the minutes ticked by, Jack scanned every face coming through the gate. Kim was getting restless in his arms. Like most of the times, the way he felt immediately transitioned to her behavior. She seemed to have a sixth sense for his inner turmoil.
Then, finally, he saw her.
Teri.
She stepped through the gate, her face a mix of exhaustion and something Jack couldn't quite read. His stomach twisted as Kim tan toward her mother with a joyful cry. Jack stood frozen in place, unable to move, his eyes fixed on Teri as she bent down to scoop Kim up into her arms.
"I'll never, ever leave you for such a long time again, sweetheart," Teri whispered softly into Kim's hair, and he heard it. Was it a good sign? She held their daughter close.
But she didn't look at Jack.
When she finally did approach him, carrying Kim on her hip, there was a hesitation in her steps. Jack could see it in the way she moved, how she seemed to brace herself as she got closer. She stopped in front of him, and for a moment, neither of them said a word.
"Jack," she said, just his name. There was no warmth in it, no anger either, but the lack of emotion cut him deeper than anything she could have said. He searched her face, trying to find something—anything—that would tell him how she felt. But there was nothing. No smile, no softening of her gaze. Just his name.
"Teri," he breathed, the word coming out quieter than he intended. What could he say? The months of silence between them, the cold distance, hung in the air like a wall neither of them could breach. Whatever words they needed to say to each other, they wouldn't say them here. Not in front of Kim.
They moved quietly on their way to the car. The snow had picked up, thick flakes swirling, and Kim loved it.
The hour-long drive back to Fort Devens was marked by quiet. Kim had fallen asleep in her car seat almost as soon as they pulled onto the highway, and they used that as an excuse for the silence between them. But the truth was, neither of them wanted to start talking. Jack kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, while Teri stared out the window, watching the snow. It was cold outside—and it was cold between them. The absence of her hand resting on his thigh as he drove, the way she didn't look at him. Three months apart, and all they had exchanged were two words and a few technicalities. Jack couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, something that might never be the same again.
As they arrived home, the tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating. Jack could feel it creeping into every corner of the house. Kim, oblivious to the storm brewing between her parents, clung to her mother as Teri tucked her in. Jack stood in the kitchen, his hands braced on the counter, staring at nothing in particular, his mind spinning with the thought of what was about to come.
He knew there was no avoiding it anymore. Teri's coldness throughout the drive, the awkward silence that stretched between them—it was all leading to this moment. He could still feel the sting of their last real argument before she left for Italy, and he wasn't sure how much had changed since then. His heart pounded in his chest as he heard her footsteps approaching from down the hall.
Teri entered the kitchen, her expression unreadable, and said nothing. Jack couldn't take it anymore—the tension, the silence, the waiting for the fight. It was eating him alive. He turned to face her, his voice tight, trying not to sound as accusing as he felt.
"Is that all we have to say to each other? After three months?" he asked, his voice betraying him with an edge he hadn't intended.
Teri's eyes narrowed. "You want to talk?"
"Yes."
Her expression darkened, and before Jack could prepare himself, the anger he hadn't expected burst through her features. "Then tell me about Victoria," she hissed, her voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
Victoria. She didn't even call her Vicky. The accusation hit Jack like a train. For a moment, he stood frozen, his mind scrambling to make sense of how she knew. Teri had just stepped off the plane—there was no way she could have seen or heard anything herself. It didn't take long for Jack to connect the dots. It had to be Heather. Or someone else from her little circle of friends, calling her in Italy, feeding her rumors, pulling his name through the dirt. His chest tightened with anger, but he refused to back down. He knew better than to go on the defensive—never give in if there's a way to play offense.
"What do you want to know?" he hissed back, his voice matching her intensity. He could see in her eyes that she hadn't expected that answer. She had been bracing for an excuse, an apology—anything but this.
"Did you sleep with her?" she spat, her voice rising.
Jack shook his head, his eyes locked on hers. "I didn't," he said plainly, and for a fleeting second, he regretted not having done it—though the thought quickly passed. No. He'd never do that to Tom. "And you?"
The counterattack caught Teri completely off guard. She gasped, her mouth falling open, as she struggled for a response. She hadn't expected the tables to turn so quickly, and the shock was written all over her face. But Jack wasn't done.
"Now I get it," he said, his voice thick with anger, the realization dawning on him. "You had your personal CIA keeping tabs on me, right?" He pointed out the kitchen window toward Heather's house, the accusation clear in his tone. "You were gone, so you needed someone to report back on me." His voice dripped with sarcasm and bitterness.
Teri took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. "I was gone for three months, Jack. And when I left we were already at a bad place. What was I supposed to do?" she hissed back, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
Jack felt a surge of ungovernable rage rise inside him. He wasn't going to let her spin this into something it wasn't. "What about trust me!? I trusted you!" he shouted, his voice growing louder, harsher. "With all your Francescos, Lorenzos, Giuseppes..." He began listing every Italian-sounding name that came to his mind. "While I was here, taking care of Kim, day in and day out!" His voice had shifted from a growl to a near-shout, each name dripping with venom.
He closed in on her, his frustration boiling over. His words came fast and hard, each one more biting than the last, and he didn't even hear her shouting back, didn't care to listen to whatever defense she was trying to shout at him. In his mind, there was no justification for not trusting him, no excuse. His anger had taken over, and he was on a warpath.
At some point, mid-sentence, mid-shout, Jack froze. His breath caught in his throat, the words dying on his lips. His mind was suddenly flooded with a memory—a scene from his childhood that had been locked away for years. He could see it clearly now: his parents, standing in the kitchen of their first house, fighting just like this. He remembered the way his father's rage would fill the room, the way his mother's voice would rise, trying to defend herself. He remembered standing in the hallway, watching helplessly as things spiraled out of control. It was a scene he had seen replayed countless times throughout his childhood.
And here he was, recreating it. History always repeats itself.
Teri must have noticed the change in him, the way he had suddenly gone still, his face distant. "Jack?" she said, her voice softer now, almost sympathetic. She didn't know what was going on in his mind, but she could see something had shifted.
But Jack didn't respond. He didn't say another word. He turned on his heel, grabbed his jacket and ID off the counter, and headed for the door. His movements were quick, determined, and Teri, caught off guard, tried to stop him.
"Jack, wait—" She rushed toward him, reaching out to grab his arm, but he pulled away from her, his expression cold and unreadable. The front door flew open, and the icy wind of the snowstorm hit them both like a slap. Teri stood there, watching as he disappeared into the night, the snow whipping around him. She wanted to call after him, to shout his name, to demand he come back and they finish talking, but something stopped her.
There was no need for the whole neighborhood to how their first night back together was going.
Jack kept walking through the storm. He hadn't taken the car. Teri would most likely need it the next day and he didn't plan on coming back too soon. He needed to get away, to put as much distance between himself and the house, between himself and the anger that still burned hot inside him.
Right now he could only think of one place. The base gym was always quiet this time of night. It was the perfect place to burn off the rage. When he arrived there, he threw himself into the workout harder than he had in months.
It wasn't just the fight with Teri that Jack had to push out of his mind as he threw himself harder into his workout. It was the memories—the ones that had resurfaced, dragging him under. Memories he had buried deep, hoping they would stay forgotten. They hadn't been on his mind for years, but tonight, they were back, vivid and raw.
Teri didn't know. He had never told her about his childhood, or about his father's rages. All she knew was that his mother had died, he had a younger brother and that he was estranged from them all. He didn't want her to know about the violence, the abuse. Telling her would have felt like bringing that violence into their relationship, too. In 1984, he'd made a decision. A clean cut. He'd leave everything behind, and never get his old life and his new life mixed up.
Each weight he lifted, each punch he threw, was a desperate attempt to drown out the images playing in his head. He hated himself for the anger he had felt, that he had brought himself into a position where he had gotten afraid he might lose control. For a brief moment, standing there in the kitchen, he had seen himself through Teri's eyes—angry, reckless, dangerous. He saw his father in himself, and that thought disgusted him. The same rage that had made him feel powerless as a boy, watching his father's violent outbursts, now coursed through him. And he hated it.
Jack had spent his entire life trying to be everything his father wasn't, but tonight, in the heat of that argument, he realized just how close he was to becoming the man he despised. The thought made him sick.
For the first time in years, his mind drifted back to his father, wondering where he was now. It had been years since he had last heard anything about him or the company. Had it expanded? Jack wouldn't be surprised. His father's ambition knew no bounds. Graem was probably involved by now, too. He had always been eager to please their father, to fall in line with the family business. At 19, Graem would no doubt be in deep, already learning how to manipulate the board, how to play the political games their father excelled at.
And the company? Jack imagined the oil fields, the land contaminated by the toxic chemicals from the fracturing process, the way his father had probably cut every corner to increase profits.
He pushed himself harder. He didn't care about the company. He didn't care about his brother. Not anymore.
But his mother... she crossed his mind, and the thought of her made him falter for a second, his moves slowing as he remembered her face. She would have been horrified if she had seen him tonight, if she had seen the anger that had overtaken him. Jack could still hear her voice from all those years ago, calm but firm, telling him to never let his emotions control him, to walk away before things escalated. Never get angry. Those were her words.
And tonight, he had failed her.
Silently, in his thoughts, Jack apologized to his mother, though he should have rather apologized to Teri instead. He prayed to her, pleaded for her guidance, asking her to help him never miss that point—the moment when his anger threatened to consume him, the point where it was better just to walk away.
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Teri had come home on a Friday evening. Jack got back to the house Saturday evening. Before that, he had been running. For hours, his efforts to exhaust himself, anything to push out the rage and frustration. The pain in his right thigh and the cold biting into his face felt almost welcome—like a way to punish himself, to drown out the storm of emotions anger that had erupted the night before. He ran for three hours, his mind spinning with thoughts of everything that had gone wrong. The kiss with Samantha, the endless fights with Teri, the endless coldness between them. After the run, he'd spent the afternoon at the gym. He pushed harder than ever before, knowing full well the soreness that would set in tomorrow. He wanted to feel it—the pain, the exhaustion, anything to drown out the memories of last night's fight. The echoes of his own voice, shouting at Teri. The accusations. The anger that reminded him too much of his father.
By the time he returned home that evening, it was already dark outside, the snow still swirling in the air under the glow of the streetlights. Jack stood in front of the door, hesitating before unlocking it. He rang the doorbell before he unlocked the door, more out of habit than necessity. It was a small gesture, a silent warning that he was here, that they would have to face each other again.
As soon as the door opened, Kim was there, running toward him. She launched herself into his arms. He held her tightly, as if it were the last time.
"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, his voice soft and full of love. He would do anything for her. He would die for her without hesitation. But the thought of losing her, of losing this family, was becoming all too real.
It was almost her bedtime, and Jack took the opportunity to tuck her in, just like he had for the past three months while Teri had been in Italy. He went through the motions, but tonight felt different. The air between him and Teri was thick with unspoken words, with the tension that had been building ever since his mission. As he kissed Kim goodnight, he couldn't help but feel sad. Would this be one of the last times he would do this? Would everything break apart?
Jack stayed by Kim's bedside for a moment longer than usual, savoring the fleeting peace before he made his way to the kitchen, where he knew Teri would be waiting. The exhaustion from his workout weighed on his body, and he was glad for it.
Teri was already sitting at the kitchen table when he entered, her posture tense, her hands folded in front of her. She looked nervous. She looked like she had been waiting for this moment just as much as he had. Jack sat down across from her, the distance between them feeling like miles.
"Sorry," he muttered, the word slipping out before he could stop it. It was a reflex, an empty apology, and even as he said it, he hated it. His mind flashed to his mother, the way she used to say "sorry" first in every fight, hoping to calm his father down before things escalated. Jack had sworn he'd never be like that. Yet here he was, apologizing without even knowing why.
His gaze drifted to the necklace around Teri's neck—his mother's necklace. She had worn it often over the years, but tonight it seemed different. Was she wearing it as a reminder of what they had shared? Or was it something else, a subtle signal that things were ending?
"I'm sorry, too," Teri finally said, her voice softer than he expected. But Jack could hear the strain underneath it, the tension that hadn't gone away since yesterday. She didn't ask where he had been last night. Maybe she didn't want to know, or maybe she had already drawn her own conclusions. But Jack knew that the question was lingering between them, unspoken but loud enough to feel. He didn't answer it, he kept it to himself that he'd found a place, somewhere in the belly of the military compound, where he could crash. An old janitor's room, probably unused in years, he'd found it during one of his night shifts, long ago (and he had slept through quite some night shifts there).
Teri began to speak, slowly at first, but soon the words came pouring out. She told him how unhappy she had been at Fort Devens, how the thought of leaving had been growing inside her for months. She admitted that even before she left, she had wanted to tell him for a long time that she wasn't happy here. She had hoped that his transfer to Italy would be the solution, a way out of this life she had come to resent. She had wanted to stay with him, in Italy, longer than just these few months of her job at the gallery. But his injury had shattered that dream, not just for the short-term, but for their entire future.
Jack sat silently as she talked. She made him look out of the window, asked him if this was he wanted —living in the northeast. He admitted he didn't like the snow, either, but what choice did he have? This was where he was stationed. He couldn't just leave. Jack felt his heart break when Teri pulled out their old memories of L.A. - of the hot summers, of sleeping in a tent out in the mountains, of surfing. It was clear that she wanted to go back, also to her family, her sisters, her parents.
Teri spoke of Los Angeles like it was the only place she could ever be happy again. She longed to return to her family, to the warmth of her old life. She wasn't happy at the base.
Jack realized now that he should have seen it much earlier, long before hearing her say it aloud. She had never truly fit into the military life, not here and certainly not at the other base they had lived on. It had always been his world, not hers, and she had only come along out of necessity, not desire.
Jack's mind drifted back to when they had first moved to Fort Irwin. It had been right before Kim was born. Their financial situation had been tight, suffocating even, and the move had been out of sheer necessity. They needed the stability of his military salary, and the hospital at the base meant they wouldn't have to pay for Kim's delivery. It was a no-brainer, back in the days. For Teri, it had been a compromise—a choice she'd made because of him, because of their marriage, and because of Kim.
He could still remember the small smile she had forced when they first arrived at the base. It wasn't her world. She had never said it outright, but he should have felt it in the way she moved, the way she seemed out of place among the other military wives, who spoke the language of deployments and ranks with ease. Teri wasn't like them, and Jack had never fully appreciated what it had cost her to follow him into this life.
It hit him even harder now, sitting across from her in the kitchen, her words like echoes of thoughts she had likely harbored for two years but hadn't voiced until now. Her unhappiness wasn't new—it had been there all along, festering beneath the surface, quietly corroding her enthusiasm, her joy. He should have seen the signs.
Jack remembered how she always made him take off his uniform the moment he walked in the door. In the beginning, it had seemed playful, almost flirtatious. She'd stand by the front door, unbuttoning his jacket or loosening his tie with a teasing smile. At first, he hadn't thought much of it, just assumed it was her way of welcoming him home, of shifting his mind away from the rigid world of the military and back into their shared space. He hadn't even really considered the symbolism in it—the uniform coming off as soon as he crossed the threshold, as if to keep the military out of their home.
But as time went on, the gesture had shifted. It wasn't playful anymore. It wasn't even affectionate. She'd still tell him to take his uniform off, but not for the reason she wanted to have him naked. He remembered coming home once, exhausted from a day at the base, only for Teri to wordlessly tug at his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door before she even kissed him. It wasn't about intimacy. It was about distance—her needing to separate him from that life, even if only for the few hours he was home.
And still, he hadn't questioned it. Hadn't thought deeply enough to realize that every time she pulled off that uniform, she was pulling away from a part of him, a part of their life that she had never wanted.
She mentioned Heather—the seasoned wife of a Major—as the only person she had ever felt a true connection with on the base. Heather was different from the other military wives. She wasn't wrapped up in the lifestyle of deployments and base gossip. Instead, Heather was someone Teri could talk to about art, about galleries and plays, about life outside of the military. To Teri, Heather had been the closest thing to the friends she had left behind in L.A., and even that wasn't enough to fill the void. Jack felt his chest tighten as he realized how isolated she had been, how much she had sacrificed to stay by his side. He had never noticed how deeply she longed for something else – something she had lost the moment she'd been ripped out of UCLA and placed into Fort Irwin.
It became clear now that Teri had been preparing for this conversation for a long time, to carefully ease him into the idea that she didn't want to stay here. She'd had these feelings for months. And she'd had three months in Italy to figure out how to tell him. Her words came softly, but that didn't change the facts she was telling him. She spoke of their life in Los Angeles, of the summers that had once felt endless, of camping in the mountains, of surfing. The memories spilled out like water from a broken dam, and Jack could feel the ache in her voice as she spoke. It was clear—she wanted to go back. He had failed to see it, failed to understand how much his life had cost her. And now, it felt like it was too late. She was preparing him for something—he could feel it. She was preparing him for the reality that she might not stay.
She already had a job offer—Assistant to the Director at a gallery in Santa Monica. Even Jack, who knew little about the art world, could tell it was a great opportunity. But what did that mean for them?
He felt the weight of reality crushing him, as he began to realize. He was too exhausted to be angry, too drained to argue, and it was good that way. He just sat there, letting her words wash over him, feeling his marriage slip further and further away.
When Teri finished, the silence was deafening. Jack stared at the necklace again, unable to meet her eyes.
"What does that mean for us?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to ask.
"I don't know," Teri said, her voice trembling with uncertainty. She wasn't sure either. Neither of them had the answers.
"Does it mean we're over?" Jack asked, the words almost too painful to say. But he needed to know. He needed to hear it.
Teri looked at him. "I don't know," she repeated, her voice cracking under the weight of the question. He looked like a heap of shit. There was no other way to put it. His shoulders were slumped, his hands resting limply on the table in front of him. His eyes, hollow and distant, stared at the necklace she wore, unable to meet her gaze. He didn't look angry, didn't look defiant—just beaten. Like everything inside him was collapsing.
Teri could see it. The way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the silent tremor in his hands. He was on the verge of crying. But he wouldn't let himself break. Not here, not in front of her. Jack never broke. He never let her see him fall apart, even when he was so close to the edge that it was painful to watch.
And she saw it now—how bad he felt, how deeply he was hurting. But despite everything, despite the anger she had carried with her from Italy, Teri's heart ached for him. She hated seeing him like this. Teri closed her eyes for a moment, pushing back the tears threatening to spill. She hadn't wanted it to come to this—to the point where she was literally tearing him apart, where every word felt like a blade she'd sink into his chest. But she couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine, that she could live with the life she was trapped in, the one she had never truly wanted.
Watching him now, slumped in his chair, broken by the weight of their unraveling marriage, she wondered if she had been too harsh. Had she let her suspicions poison her feelings for him? Had she allowed her own doubts to cloud the reality of their love?
The uncertainty hung between them, thick and suffocating. They were both too tired, too worn down to make any decisions tonight.
Jack finally stood up, feeling heavier than ever. "I'll sleep on the couch," he said quietly. It was the only thing he could offer. He didn't want to be near her tonight—not because he didn't love her, but because he didn't know how to fix what was broken between them.
Teri didn't argue. She didn't ask him to stay. She just nodded, and Jack could see the weariness in her eyes, the same exhaustion that mirrored his own.
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Audrey couldn't help but cry.
Because he was crying.
It was something she had never witnessed, ever before, in any of their conversations. He had opened up about the drugs, about violence, his troubled childhood, the abuse he had suffered, the decisions that had pushed him to leave his family behind. But this—this moment of telling her about that evening, when Teri had revealed she was going back to L.A., that she would leave him back alone—this had sent him over the edge.
He was crying his eyes out, unable to stop. And Audrey, hearing his pain so raw, so unguarded, was pulled right into it. She felt her own tears fall, not just because of the sadness in his voice but because she could feel the depth of his heartbreak, as if it were happening right here, right now, and not 20 years ago.
Her feelings about Jack had been conflicted throughout the last hour. She had always put him on a pedestal, in some ways. But when Jack confessed to cheating on Teri, that pedestal had crumbled. Audrey had felt disappointed in him—angry, even. She had been ready to judge him, ready to ask why, to push for an explanation, knowing full well that no answer would be enough. How could it be? Cheating on the woman you love—it wasn't something you could justify, in her opinion.
But now, after hearing him continue the story, after hearing how his marriage with Teri had slowly unraveled, how they had both drifted so far apart, she understood a little better. The cracks in their relationship had been there for so long, and they had both been too consumed by their separate worlds that they hadn't even acknowledge them. Jack had been caught up in the military, in his duty, and Teri had been chasing her own dreams, trying to find herself again.
And seeing how hard Jack cried now, thinking back to that night in 1988 when his future with Teri was at the edge—Audrey couldn't see him as the man she had been angry with half an hour ago. There was more to this. So much more.
Right now, all she felt for him was endless sorrow. She wanted to reach out and comfort him.
After a few minutes of silence, Jack's voice broke through again. "I'm sorry," he choked out. Then, suddenly, before she could say anything, he hung up.
Audrey stared at the phone in her hands, still crying. The line had gone quiet, but she knew Jack was still sitting somewhere in that hallway, crying too. She wanted to call him back, to say something—anything—to let him know that he wasn't alone in this, but she stopped herself. There was nothing she could say to make his pain better.
She felt for him. Never in her life had a man been so brutally honest with her. Jack had laid himself bare, exposing the worst parts of himself. He had told her about his fears of becoming like his father, about having cheated on Teri, and even about the moments when his own anger had scared him. He hadn't hidden the ugly parts, didn't sugarcoat anything.
And as she sat there, wiping away the tears that kept falling, Audrey found herself asking a question she didn't want to answer: Should she think less of him, just for his honesty? Should she despise him for the broken, damaged parts of himself, that he had chosen to show her?
Her mind went to Paul—Paul, who had never been this open with her. He had always kept his faults hidden, presenting her with the best version of himself, making sure she never saw the cracks. Paul had been careful, always keeping her at arm's length when it came to his own flaws. How could she compare that to Jack's brutal, unfiltered honesty? How could she hold it against him for being honest, even if that meant seeing him at his worst?
She wiped her face again, but more tears came. And as they fell, she realized something else—something she didn't know if she was ready to admit. Jack, in all his flaws and his brokenness, had shown her more of himself than anyone ever had.
She loved him for that.
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Written to: Say Something (Jasmine Thompson cover)