Sorry if I wasn't clear in the last post - this is a 3 part story. Part 1 is here.
And then. When she called him that last
time it was to tell him she couldn't cope with his darkness. A
darkness he was unprepared to do anything about. It was affecting her
life, her business. His anger flared. She heard the sharpness of his
breathing. He said she didn't understand the depths of his despair
over his financial situation, he was going to have to sell
everything. She was unsympathetic, pragmatic. Well, of course he did,
she responded. She had reviewed all his documents. Yes, sell, of
course. His response was to yell that this was all he had ever worked
for. Hard. And now he was losing it all, and she didn't care.
that, there was a long silence, where she felt hot tears spring to
her eyes. She knew there was no more to be said. But she waited for
him to retreat from this moment, this outburst, to fix it with a
sorry, but he didn't. And finally he was the one who hung up and she
held the phone to her ear until the automated ladyvoice came on
telling her to hang up now.
That's the thing though. In this social
networking age, isn't it? Does anyone really pull the plug? She didn't. Maybe
it was the writer in her, she had to know what happened next. Of
course she did. Plus she'd always had difficulty letting go of people
who held importance in her life. Even abusers. Serious difficulty.
The hope of change in those who hurt her. Of their one startling
moment of awareness which would slide them back into the shared
envelope of love. Foolish and infantile, she knew.
So they would email each other the odd
time. Updates on life. And then the announcement of his re-marriage
three years ago. To someone who understood him. He had “searched
the world” for such as she. Had travelled from Hawaii to Singapore
and then to Vancouver where he found her. Connie was his true
Connie was easy to find on Facebook,
linked as Jack's friend. Their wedding was on a yacht. A pretty
woman in a lovely wedding dress. Her daughter as bridesmaid. Her
passion for him was evident. “Darling”, “sweet”, “special”,
were frequent adjectives used in the photo captions.
She congratulated Jack. And meant it.
And she closed the door. But sometimes she wondered idly why her
romance had foundered while theirs thrived. As one does. As she did.
But it was truly over now and she moved on. Fiercely. Firmly.
Labels: gentle distractions, Newfoundland, true stories