not really that complicated on the surface. She smiles that knowing smile of hers. I think she’s pleased that I’m finally taking an interest.
“Do you want to...” She puts a hand down over our daughter.
I nod and I put my hand there, feel the slight hardness of her womb under my hand. She puts hers on top mine and slips it a little lower.
“There she is,” she says. She squeezes my hand and I look up into her eyes. I’m not sure what I’m seeing there, but it looks a little like love. I can’t let myself hope for such things. I can’t hope for them in myself.
“How did your marriage counselling go?” she asks me with a broad smile.
We’re eating pizza at the table like we done countless times before. I don’t know. There was a tension here for so long and I wasn’t aware of it. Maybe I was and I pushed it down, ignored it, told myself that everything was alright. But now my eyes are opened and I can see there was pain here, I can see so many words that were said without meaning. Now I can see the lies.
But not now. We’re being honest with each other for the first time in so long. All her secrets have been laid bare and my defences are down. I’m not hiding any more. Well, at least I’m starting to show myself. That’s something. And damn it, I’m going to show her.
I laugh that droll laugh I do when she’s made a joke at my expense. “Very funny.”
“Seriously though,” she says. “I am interested. How was it?”
I take a deep breath. “Terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.”
She’s smiling at me with her hand resting on her cheek, like she’s found something wonderful for the first time. I loved it when I saw that in her, that delight.
“It was just talking, you know,” I go on. “I was telling him my story – our story - and out of nowhere I start crying. I’m crying on his shoulder. I’m telling him things I haven’t even told you. Damn,” I say, looking down, closing my eyes, “I’m starting to cry now.”
I take a deep breath and look up. There are tears in her eyes, not joy but sadness. She did this to me, to us, as much as I had. We both had guilt enough to sink us.
There is distance between us. Only inches, but it seems like miles. It seems like the width of the whole universe, and we can’t bridge it. We can’t reach even those inches to touch, to hold. It’s so hard because I want to, and I know she wants to, but the rules have changed and I think neither of us even know what the rules are anymore. We do nothing for fear of breaking them.
“Anyway,” I say with a sigh. “With all those words you get some insight. You were right when you said I shut down. I do. I’ve always done it, but I don’t want to anymore.”
“You’re not,” she says quietly. “You’re talking to me. You’re sharing yourself with me. That’s something. I just wish you could before.”
I nod slowly. “If only.”
“I am proud of you, Judd. Whatever this is, I like it. I hope you keep going.”
I smile and shrug. “I think I will,” I say. “And I think you should see someone.”
“I don’t know, Judd. I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Well, I suppose that makes sense. I mean, I’ve got two months on you. I’m in this place, but you’re back there, and I know what that’s like. But it’s going to be different for you. I’m going to make sure of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I can’t take the pain away and I don’t want to. You need that pain. But I can help you through it. You’ve got me. And you have friends like Jen. I didn’t have anyone. Not really. I think with people around you it’s going to be easier. I’ll make it as easy as I can.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “At the time I didn’t realise just what would happen if you found out. I mean, I destroyed your life. You had nothing.”
“I know. I was there.”
“But even when it was happening I still cared for you. I didn’t want to hurt you but I still did. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
“You know you’re going to have to eventually.”
“I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Well,” she says, “I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. I’m only just starting to understand what you went through. And I have you and Jen and...” she looks around, “...somewhere to live.”
I nod, but she’s not looking at me. She has her head down now, thinking.
“Judd?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.”
“You’ll have to give me more than that.”
“About going back to your old job and needing money.”
“I remember.”
“Well, you don’t need the flat,” she says to her lap. “Not really.”
“I have to live somewhere, Quinn,” I say. “I can’t move into a cardboard box.”
She looks up quickly. “I’m not saying that,” she says sharply. “I’m saying you can move back here. But now I’m feeling annoyed at you and I’m starting to change my mind.”
“Hey,” I say, “relax. I’m joking.”
She sighs. “Okay. Sorry. I’m not doing very well. I know I look like I am, but I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams most of the time.”
“I know how you feel. Try going to your father’s funeral and sitting there talking to all those people for a week.”
“I should have been there.”
“I know. But at least everything was out in the open. It was better to know in the end.”
“Are you sure?”
I sigh. “I don’t want to live a lie, not anymore.”
“I don’t either. I don’t know… There’s just so much that’s going through my head right now. I can hardly stand it.”
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“Not about this. Not now.”
“Maybe someday then. But you should talk to someone.”
“I know. When I’m ready.”
“I get that. And look, about your offer… I’m grateful, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“I just think, at the moment, we both need some space. I don’t want to ruin anything that we might have gained, and I think that moving back presents its own set of distractions that either of us need right now.”
She nods sadly. “You’re right,” she says. “It’s just that you’re helping me, I thought I could help you.”
“And I appreciate it. So,” I say, “what are we watching?”
We sit in familiar places and the distance remains, an insurmountable gulf that spans less than a step. We’re laughing, we’re talking, we’re watching. She is in the corner of my eye and I can’t help but glance at her now and then. She is beautiful and wonderful and the mother of my child and I love her. I just can’t admit it.
Later, after dinner and some television, I have to go. We both have work in the morning. I stand at the doors of the elevator, waiting for it to arrive and take me down.
“This was fun,” she says. “We should do this again.”
She lonely, I know it. I am too. We’re two lost souls trying to navigate life alone and reaching out for each other despite that fact that we’ve done this to ourselves. Our fingers stretch out, but never quite touch. Nothing to me is sadder than that.
“Yes,” I say. “Soon, I hope.”
We stand there. The rules are back. There is a protocol here. I hear the ring of the bell and the doors behind me slide open. We smile. We stand there. It’s awkward as hell. I step forward, go to kiss her, get her cheek. She kisses mine. Like friends.
“See you Wednesday,” I say and she waves to me as the doors close. I take a deep breath and lean against the cold metal with my forehead, watch my breath create patches of condensation.
I didn’t tell her about the last revelation. I didn’t tell her that I love her. I didn’t tell her that I can’t love her, can’t risk myself again - can
’t subject myself to that kind of pain again. But something inside me is telling me to jump, take a chance, take a risk. I’m confused and I’m afraid and I’m in love and I just don’t know what to do.
Another voice intrudes. It has Grant’s face, but I know it’s not him. It says: “She is your wife. She is the one that you promised to love for always, no matter what. Is it really so bad to be in love with her?”
Maybe I’ve been too hard on Quinn. She’s no different than the rest of us. We all do terrible things to each other: some small, some bad, some really bad. Who is keeping the score? Does one really bad thing equal a million small things? I don’t know.
Maybe I’m in love with an echo of what was, a time that dissolved away in neglect and lust. Some things were broken too much to be repaired. Some distances were too great to be bridged. Maybe I’m just hanging onto the ghost of marriage past when I should be just repairing my friendship with her for the sake of our baby.
And so I make a decision. Her friendship is far more important to me than any risk, and chance, any leap into the unknown. That’s the way it will be, the way it should be.
I told Penny that I was going to see what living alone was like. But really I’ve been doing just that for the last two months, nearly three. I don’t like it. I’m no good at it. But I’m getting used to it, getting better at it.
I could have easily taken up Quinn’s offer, and if I’m being honest with myself, that’s what I want. But I can’t be back there, not yet, maybe not ever. I’ve been invaded. What should have been a refuge for me became the place where I was hurt the most. He’d been in my house, in my space, in my bed with my wife. And if I want to stay her