Fisher's Light(103)

Placing the folder in my lap, I run my palms over top of it. I’ve read his journal pages from when we were younger, and his words and the way he saw me and our relationship were nothing short of beautiful. I’m scared to death that what’s in this folder will cut me in half.

Seth gets up from the chair, resting his hand on my shoulder as he walks by. “To get to the good, sometimes you have to live through the bad.”

He walks out of the room, leaving me alone. Taking a deep breath, I hug the folder to my chest and get up from the table, moving into the library to curl up in a chair in the corner, next to the fireplace. With a shaking hand, I open the folder and pull out the first page, filled with Fisher’s neat, block handwriting.

I start to read and realize it’s about the day he came home from the last deployment and we had sex in the kitchen. We’ve already talked a little bit about how disappointed he was in himself for the way he behaved with me, and I did my best to convince him that he did nothing wrong. Seeing how he felt tortured that night makes me press my hand to my chest to stop the ache. He watched me sleep and traced his fingers over the bruises he’d left on my hips, crying with hate and anger at himself. He started to have a panic attack, thinking he’d hurt me and that I’d hate him and when he went to the bathroom, he had a horrible flashback.

My hand moves to press against my lips and I cry silent tears as I read what was going through his broken mind on a night when I went to sleep so happy and fulfilled and woke up the next morning with a husband who wouldn’t look at me or touch me.

I flip the page and move to the next journal entry, the day I came home to find him packing my things and ordering me out of our house. It’s like reading a fictional thriller as he talks about hearing the explosion of bombs and creeping through the house looking for an enemy that wasn’t there. My cracked heart breaks in half as I read about how he crawled through our bedroom, believing with everything inside of him that he was back in the desert, fighting for his life. I cry harder when I read that I startled him when I came home and he reached for a gun that wasn’t attached to his hip. He was so afraid he would hurt me, so afraid he would never be able to separate reality from his flashbacks, that he didn’t know what else to do other than get me away from him where I’d be safe.

I read the words he said to me in anger, as well as the words he chanted in his head the entire time he was shouting at me, and I’m crying so hard I can barely see the page by the time I’m done.

“We’re done, this is over. I’m packing your shit and you’re leaving.”

I’m sorry, I love you, please forgive me.

“Everything is f*cked up, don’t you get that? It’s ruined, all of it is ruined and you need to f*cking leave.”

I’m so sorry, I love you, please forgive me.

“You need to get a life.”

I’m sorry, I love you, please forgive me.

“All those sad, pathetic letters.”

I’m lying, don’t believe me, please don’t believe me. I loved your letters, I kept them all and I cherish every one of them.

“I prefer women with a little more experience.”

I don’t mean it. I don’t mean any of it. Knowing I’m the only man who has ever been inside of you makes me feel like a f*cking king and the luckiest man alive. I’m sorry, I love you, please forgive me.

“It doesn’t get better when I come home to you. I hate this life.”

I’m lying! Every word is a lie. I love our life and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. I love you, I love you, I love you.

I quickly turn the page over, unable to see those words anymore through my tears, unable to stand the pain he must have been going through when he said them. The next page doesn’t get any easier. It’s later that night at Barney’s. The reason why I’ve been avoiding him the last week, and the reason why I can’t let go of my own hurt and anger.

I’ve never known the exact order of events from that night. I knew he got drunk at Barney’s, I knew that he thought I was Melanie, I knew he went on a rampage through the town and I knew Bobby knocked him out and dragged him to the ferry, but I never knew exactly how it all happened. Now I do, and it makes my stomach cramp and my chest physically ache. I read exactly what he was thinking and feeling and hoping for and I want to die from the pain in my heart.

Maybe it’s Lucy. Maybe she ignored everything I said to her and came back to me. I know it’s wrong and she shouldn’t be here, but I just need her right now. I can see her one more time and then I’ll leave and I’ll walk away.