The Words We Leave Unspoken(18)

It starts to rain, big heavy drops, the dark sky finally unleashing the fury that it has threatened all day. The water gushes at our feet and the sound of the rain fills the once quiet street like the roar of an awe-inspiring waterfall. We run like school kids back to the bed and breakfast, straight to our cozy room, where we strip off our wet clothes and make love in front of a warm fire. And I think, I remember this, this passion. How could I forget? And when I am overcome with my release, my toes curling and my heart nearly pounding out of my chest, I’m hit with a wave of emotions. Overwhelmed to the point of tears, I bury my face in John’s chest while he shudders his own release. When his breath evens out, he pulls back and looks deep into my eyes, stirring up feelings of guilt once again.

“Sometimes I love you so much that I can’t breathe,” he whispers, as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, a gesture that conjures so many emotions within me. A stray tear slowly trickles down my cheek. And all I can think of is the unfairness of it all. I am so happy. My life is perfect in so many ways. I have survived so much already. Why can’t I just have this one thing? Is it too much to ask?

And as if reading my mind, John says, “Sometimes I’m so happy that I find myself holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like a person can’t possibly deserve this much happiness, ya know?” He gently wipes away my tear with the pad of his thumb and I suddenly can’t breathe. I stare at him so intently, it’s like I’m willing him to hear my thoughts so that I don’t have to say the words aloud. And in the same moment, I know that I can’t say the words aloud. I love him so much that I can’t break his heart. I can’t take this moment from him. I would do anything to protect him from this pain.

I close my eyes, breaking the laser focus of our gaze and whisper, “I love you too, John. So much.” I kiss him on the lips, pushing it all aside and think, Later. I’ll tell him later. And then I take a breath. Because that’s all I can do for now.





Chapter 12





Charley


Both kids are in bed asleep, finally, and I lay quietly on the floor in Max’s room. I’m afraid that he might need me and I won’t hear him. He had a few more vomiting episodes but I feel like we have seen the worst of it. Even his fever has receded. I stare up at his ceiling where fifty or more glow-in-the-dark star stickers shine above. If I stare long enough, they almost look real.

I can’t erase the image of Ben from my mind. He looked so good. His dark hair was shaved close to his scalp, accentuating the muscles along his jawline and neck. And those blue eyes, almost transparent, that can pin you in place with one look. He hadn’t changed a bit and yet there was something more seasoned about him, the way he held his shoulders, the depth to his gaze. He had been more of a boy when I saw him last, at our high school graduation nearly twelve years ago, and now he’s every bit a man. I hadn’t known he was back in Seaport, never mind that he’s Max and Olivia’s pediatrician.

I think back to what happened all those years ago, the events that spiraled out of control until I was left completely broken. It was my own undoing though, as if I had broken my own heart when all I really wanted was to protect myself from that very thing. Looking back, I see how fragile I was. How the slightest sense of insecurity or distress could break me. But I knew what was coming then, I knew that Ben was leaving. It had to end at some point. But, still, I can’t help but think of how things could’ve been, if I had been stronger. If I had been strong enough to love him. How it could have been, if it would have worked out the way we had planned.

I close my eyes and push the images away, reminding myself that nothing works out the way you plan. It was all for the best. I tell myself this as my heart clenches around what is buried deep inside, the regret and the guilt of what I did. How I pushed Ben away and then immediately wanted to take it all back. But it had been too late. It was too late. What’s done is done.



I wake with a start, the glow-in-the-dark stars barely visible. Nausea steamrolls me and I leap up, making a dash for the hall bathroom. I hunch over the cold toilet bowl as my stomach unloads. My head feels as if someone split it down the middle with an ax. I can’t remember the last time I felt this sick. I cough and sputter before rinsing my mouth in the sink and slinking down the wall until I’m sitting on the bathroom floor with my arms wrapped around my bent knees. I rest my forehead on my knees when the shaking begins.

Ugh. Max’s flu. Thanks Max. The cycle continues as dawn comes and goes. Max wakes up feeling good as new, shedding a small measure of light on my situation. Barely able to stand upright, I set Max and Olivia up in the family room downstairs with a movie, a handful of granola bars, and juice before I hunker down in the bathroom just off the entryway, held prisoner for hours by this stinking flu. My only hope is that John and Gwen are home soon.

I hear the doorbell ring, which I plan to ignore, but I hear Olivia call out, “Who is it?” I try to tell her not to open the door, but my words come out only a hoarse whisper.

“It’s Doctor Roth,” I hear Ben say. My only thought, Oh, God, not now. How mortifying. I look and feel like death. And even more horrifying, I hear the bolt lock slide open as Olivia opens the door and lets him in. I sit stone still in the bathroom, eavesdropping on their conversation, wondering what he’s doing here and hoping that he leaves before he discovers me in the bathroom.