our Weeks – Episode 7 – “Eighteen”
Written by J.D.Denisson.
A sequel to the movie “This is Where I Leave You”.
Characters and back story based on the novel “This is Where I Leave You” by Jonathan Tropper.
Copyright 2016 J.D.Denisson.
Previously…
“Look,” Wade says earnestly. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. It was wrong. Even I know that. And it’s over, okay.”
“Fine.”
“But, if you must know, I’ve been seeing someone on and off for a few months, but we’ve been serious for a couple of weeks.”
“You actually used the word ‘serious’?”
“Yeah. I believe it is the word to use when you get ‘serious’.”
“You left Quinn two weeks ago.”
“Yeah,” he says.
…
“So, we’re actually going to do this,” she asks me. “We’re going to fight for us?”
“We are. I think there is too much at stake not to. I think that there is too much to lose to let this go. We could, but I think that we’d regret not at least trying. And we have to consider our baby.”
“Well... maybe we should stop seeing the Uptons separately and start seeing them together, as a couple.”
…
“So,” she says with a deep breath. “This is it. We’re doing it.”
“We are.” It was so simple in the end. Just two words and the pact was sealed. We were going to stay married. We were going to sort out our issues. We were going to be a family.
“So what happens now? Do you move back in? Do we...” she laughs again. “Do we consummate this thing?”
…
“And then we’d like you to write another story,” Grant says. This one will be for your future, the one that you want. Don’t be afraid to dream big.”
“Don’t share it with each other,” Mary adds. “We’ll look at it in a few weeks. We’ll see if it’s changed in any way.”
…
I’m looking into her crying eyes and I’m crying too. Suddenly I’m full of love and joy for the son I never got to meet, to mould and teach and hold. Suddenly I am ashamed of holding Quinn back from telling me of her dreams that fate has cruelly dashed. I’m angry at myself for trying to get her move on quickly, like he didn’t matter, like those dreams didn’t matter.
…
“I want you to start thinking of moving back under the same roof,” he says. “It doesn’t have to be full time. Try a night a week, two if you can. I want you to get used to being together in the day to day stuff.”
“Okay,” I say, and I imagine it and my heart quickens. I haven’t slept in that house in so long. The last time was the night before her birthday and everything seemed to be alright but it definitely wasn’t.
Monday
Its two days later that I call her. I wait until I know she’s home from work. I had nothing really important to talk to her about, in truth I just missed her voice, but I had to have some reason.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she says back, her voice small and thin.
“How are you,” I ask her, and I know how she is before she tells me.
“Tired and queasy,” she says.
“Right.”
“Was there something you wanted?” she asks me wearily.
“No. Nothing really. Just checking in.”
Silence.
“Okay,” I say after a moment, “well there was something I suppose.”
“Thank god.”
“Is your offer still open?”
“For what?” She’s getting impatient, and just a little irritated.
“To move back in.”
She sighs. “Now’s not a good time, Judd.”
“Oh, I know. I didn’t mean tonight. I meant later. I’ve been thinking about it a bit lately.”
“Good.”
“It might be one night this week, or maybe next, if your offer still stands.”
“Sure.” One word answers. I knew what that meant. She was exhausted and didn’t want to listen to my incessant talking.
“Okay,” I say quickly. “Well, you get some rest.”
“Sure. I’m having dry toast for dinner, a soak in the tub and a read in bed.”
“Sounds like a perfect night.”
“Sure. Can I go?”
“Okay,” I say back and we hang up.
I was committed now and the thought scarred me. I don’t know why – it is my apartment after all. But it was full of memories both good and bad. It was the bad memories that I had trouble shaking off my back.
But I was determined to be brave. For too long I hid, within myself and, when things were at their worst, here in my dungeon. So bravery dictated that I face my fears and I would do it. I already had a plan.
I was worried about her too. Things were strained at our last session, and our conversation did nothing to allay my fears. She had been through the same as I had and was probably wrung out. I imagined that there were issues dragged up that were long buried that she needed to deal with. That would take some thinking and some time, and having me as a house guest was probably the last thing she needed. I would wait a few days and call her again and feel things out. I didn’t want to be rushed so I saw no fairness in rushing her.
Wednesday
For the next two days I threw myself into my work to distract myself from Quinn and the whole sleeping over situation.
I’m aware that my life has shrunk down to three things: work, Quinn and our baby. It’s kind of sad that a man my age doesn’t have a bigger life. I don’t play a musical instrument in a band on the weekends, I don’t water-ski or hang-glide or sky-dive in my spare time. Hell, I don’t even fish. I don’t run marathons, I don’t go to comic conferences. I’m not into collecting, reading, travelling, cars or books. I wonder just what I was doing all this time. The irony is that I did most of my things with Quinn. In some respects I’d hijacked some of the things that she wanted to do. I appropriated some of her life. And then I realised, all of a sudden, that the reality was that in all of that I was no nearer to her than if I’d just sat on the couch and watched television. In the end that’s all I did for two solid months because I had nothing else that didn’t involve her in some way.
So I make myself a pact. I’ll do something else other than obsess about those three things. I’ll take up a hobby of some sort, or maybe a sport. I was passable at racquet ball when I was still in high school, when I wasn’t playing Paul that is. Maybe I’ll take that back up. But I don’t think so. I keep thinking of Grant standing on the bank with a rod in his hand. At least I know him and it doesn’t seem too hard to get the hang of. Or maybe it is. Maybe my first catch was beginners luck.
We were getting things back on track again. I’d talked most of our sponsors and advertisers back into the fold. My lips were figuratively bleeding from the amount of ass-kissing I had been doing. The trouble was, trying to convince someone of something that you didn’t actually believe yourself was very difficult. I was trying to be honest with myself and everyone around me and this was at direct odds with my work. I achieved it but it galled me.
But in the weeks past I’ve seen something different in Wade. It helped that I gained the smallest insight into his humanity. He wasn’t some mindless force that destroyed my life – he was a person with his own history, his own hurts, his own faults – like the rest of us. And I guess he’s starting to change. I’d like to think that somehow it’s my influence, but I wonder. He said he’s serious with this Chloe girl. Maybe that’s it. Anyw
ay, he’s a little gentler, just a little, and I wondering just where he is going.
Secretly I didn’t want Wade to change too much. I didn’t want Quinn to find him suddenly attractive because he embodied fun and responsibility in one. It concerned me that she called him – that in weakness she would fall back to him – but I could not change that. Grant said that I can only change me. I was hoping that the changes I was making would be more attractive than anything Wade had to offer.
It is Wednesday afternoon and we are just wrapping up our meeting when she calls. Carrie’s head appears at the doorway.
“Judd,” she says. “Quinn’s on the phone.”
Wade makes a crude remark. He has no idea what’s happening between us and I’m not feeding him any information. Kenny shakes his head.
“We’re done,” I tell them flatly and Wade breaks for the door. I’m in charge now and he knows it.
“Hey,” I say to her.
“Judd… Sorry to interrupt.”
“No, we’re finished for the day. What’s up?”
“The other night... I’m sorry I was a bit of a… you know.”
“You weren’t.”
“Okay, well... What you asked me, about staying over...”
“Yeah.”
“You could tonight if you’d like. I’m feeling okay today and I’d like the company. We could order in, make a night of it.”
I’m doing a little dance. “Sounds great,” I say.
“Are you dancing around the office right now?” She knows me. She knows my little quirks.
I stop. “No,” I say quickly.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you after work, say six?”
“Yeah. Looking forward to it.”
I’d never been happier to stay over at a woman’s house and not have