The Words We Leave Unspoken(62)

“I’m sorry. That must be hard.” I feel awful that I never visited all these years, but I was so ashamed of what I had done.

He shrugs. “Thanks, it’s not easy. Sometimes I wish I had a sibling to ease the load, ya know. Do you want some dry clothes?” Ben asks.

“Maybe just a ride back to Gwen’s, if that’s okay. I think I have a lot of things to sort out. It’s been a crazy day.”

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” he asks, followed quickly by, “As a friend, of course.”

“Maybe another time,” I say, seeing Ben for the good friend that he always was. My best friend, in fact. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much.

He nods and grabs his wallet and car keys off the counter. I follow him back toward the front door, slip on my soggy shoes, and step back into the rain. Ben drives me home in silence, although I meet his gaze each time he glances at me, like we’re speaking without saying anything at all.

When I reach Gwen’s door, it’s locked and I have to knock. I realize how late it is and instantly feel guilty that no one knows where I’ve been. John, eventually, opens the door.

“There you are,” is all he says as he steps aside and I walk though the doorway. And then he adds, “You’re soaked.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I say. “Sorry that I snuck out without telling anyone.”

“We didn’t worry too much. We found the flowers with a card from Grey; it wasn’t much of a mystery. We knew you were with him.” John closes the door and turns the dead bolt into place. I hang my wet jacket on the coat rack, slip my shoes off and follow John into the kitchen.

“That’s not exactly how it went, but it doesn’t matter. I’m back,” I say and then ask, “How’s Gwen?”

“She’s sleeping. She seemed pretty wiped out today.” I think back to our conversation and how much that must have taken out of her. John pours a glass of red wine into an already used glass on the counter and then asks, “Do you want some?”

“Sure,” I say and then tell him just a small glass. I’m freezing and need a hot shower.

He takes another wine glass from the cabinet and pours until it’s only half full, handing it to me. “Thanks,” I say and take a sip. I notice the lilies from Grey arranged in a vase on the kitchen table and my heart sinks.

“I’m not even going to ask what you’ve been doing,” John says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes at him. “Trust me, it’s not what you think.” I take another sip of my wine. “Are you doing okay, John?”

He sighs and then says, “I think so. I just wish she would let me help her more. I feel like I have to constantly ask her if she needs something and I can tell that she’s getting annoyed but I don’t know what else to do.” He lifts his glass to his lips and takes a big gulp, and then sets it down on the counter.

“I know what you mean. Give her some time, John, she’ll come around. You and I both know that Gwen is not good with giving up control.”

“Yeah, I know. This is just all so... so fucked up,” he says, shaking his head as he rakes his hand through his hair. He folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry, John. It isn’t fair.”

We both stand in silence sipping our wine until I drain the last sip and say, “I’m going to shower and turn in for the night.” And then I ask, “Where’s my mom?”

“She went to bed a while ago,” he says.

“Okay, well goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” John says and I head upstairs. I’m sleeping on an inflatable mattress in the office while my mother is sleeping in the downstairs guest room. It’s strange to think of us all under the same roof again and yet comforting at the same time. I peek into Gwen’s room at the end of the hall and my hand instantly goes to my heart as I take in the scene. Gwen is lying on her back, fast asleep with Max snuggled in on her left side and Olivia sleeping on her right, Gwen’s arms are wrapped around them both. Tears spring to my eyes as I draw in a breath and release it, easing the knot in my chest. All I can think is that there is more love in this house than I have ever known.





Chapter 34





Gwen


It’s Friday. I wake up feeling better than I have since Thanksgiving. It’s amazing what a week in bed will do for recovery. I take slow steps to the bathroom, having mastered this task a few days ago and freshen up, taking care not to wake John. I dress in a clean pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt and slowly make my way down the stairs with a death grip on the handrail.

I look around the house to find everything is in order. I’m not sure what I expected to find. I guess I was expecting pure chaos in my absence. John has been home the entire week and my mother and Charley have been staying here as well. Between the three of them, life has been continuing on without me. The kids are fed and driven to school with homemade lunches in tow. According to Max, Grammy cuts the crust off his sandwich almost as good as I do. Homework, soccer, play practice – it’s all happening without me. Charley even attended the PTA meeting on Wednesday, taking detailed notes for my benefit. It’s as if they don’t even need me.

This morning I’m determined to make the kids breakfast and give them a warm send-off for school, one where I’m standing vertical rather than lying in bed like a corpse. I see the look in their eyes, and it’s killing me. They need to see that I’m going to be okay.