What Endures (32 page)

“Jason, I didn’t-“

He turned and walked away. “I’m going home."

“Megan?”

His voice behind her jolted her back to the present. She turned around and smiled slightly. “Hi.” He was standing by the open patio doors, his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans, and his expression wary.  “Um, I was wondering if we could talk?” He remained standing by the patio door. “No yelling this time. Promise.”

His expression remained wary but he moved to join her out on the patio of the beach house. There was a soft breeze blowing in from the Chesapeake Bay, carrying the scent of the sea air with it. She gestured toward two padded patio chairs facing each other and after a slight hesitation, he settled into one of them.

Taking a deep breath, she settled into the other. Neither said anything at first. She was composing her suddenly jumbled thoughts, and he was staring out at the water. She looked at him, trying to read him, but she couldn't. She could, however, see that he looked incredibly tired. His hair was disheveled, there was a day’s growth of whiskers on his face and there was a weariness in how he carried himself that made her heart ache.

She cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. “Um. . .” She sighed. “God. This is harder than I thought, and I had a whole speech prepared and everything.

“Look, Megan, we don’t-“

She cut him off gently. “Yeah, we do.”

So do it
, the little voice in her head told her. She sighed, looking down, as if somehow she would find not only the words to convey what she wanted, but the courage to do so, somewhere on the ground near her feet. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

“It’s OK,” he returned.

“No, it’s not. I mean, in a way, I’m glad it happened because those things needed to come out. I, uh, I could have said things better.”

“Me too.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what. . ." She cleared her throat. "I actually wanted to talk to you about us.”

Once again, his expression grew wary. “Look, Megan, I didn’t-“

“About our divorce.” He looked at her in surprise, but said nothing. She awkwardly pointed at his right hand, which was fidgeting with his left hand in his lap. He looked at her questioningly and she smiled gently before she reached out and took his right hand in both of her much smaller ones. She turned his hand over to the side and fingered the small, almost faded scar that ran along the edge of his wrist. “You ever wonder how you got this scar?”

He shrugged. “Not really. It’s just one of many.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “You got this your freshman year in college.” She looked off into the distance, letting the memory come back to her. “It was just another game. Nobody expected it to be eventful. You were playing a school that you routinely beat, and it was the eighth inning and your team was ahead by four runs. It was your last at-bat and you were 2 for 3 at that point. Everyone thought the relief pitcher would walk you. But he, uh, got frustrated or something and pitched a ball directly at you. You ducked but the ball hit your wrist. Hard. It shattered the bone.”

She grimaced slightly. “I was all the way up in the bleachers but I would swear I heard the ball make contact with your wrist." She sighed. "Anyway, they operated but there were some complications and you had some nerve damage. The doctors didn’t think you’d be able to play again.” She smiled wryly. “Obviously they were wrong.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She finally released his hand. “You know, being with you in the last three years, seeing you carve a place for yourself in the Majors, I really thought that I was over the whole baseball thing, that I had accepted its part in your life, but apparently not, if in my drunken state, I blamed the collapse of our marriage on it.”

“So baseball didn’t break us up?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s, uh, something else actually. Something I thought I got over a long time ago.”

He looked at her, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Baseball was a catalyst,” she said slowly. “It kind of um, brought the problems that were there between us to the forefront and made us deal with them. And we didn’t deal with it very well.”

She stopped and drew in another deep breath. He had broken eye contact with her and was staring back out at the water again. “When you were injured and told that you might not be able to play again, it was devastating, but you actually took it pretty well. Which I thought was odd because I thought baseball was your life, or a really big part of your life.”

“It wasn’t?”

“It was important but I overestimated its importance.” She sighed. “You decided not to undergo the extensive rehabilitation process. I mean it was expensive and we didn’t really have insurance, but your father offered to pay for it. And you turned him down. Instead, you decided to focus on school and to work more. To take care of me.”

Jason was looking down at his hands, not saying anything but she knew he was listening to her. The lack of eye contact was probably for the best, since what she needed to say next was hard enough without having to look into those green eyes of his that seemed to see into her very soul. “You were willing to sacrifice so much for me, Jason.” He looked up then and she forced herself to look into his eyes, so that he could see the emotions behind her words. “Too much I thought. And I. . .I got scared.”

She sighed. “I thought you were giving up too much and I just. .”

“What?” he prompted.

“Just now, before you came out here, I was thinking back to one of our last fights. You were at the batting cage, and you looked so natural there. It was where you belonged and even though you admitted that you missed playing, you were still convinced that you working so that I could focus on my studies was the best option for us. Even if it meant that you were working for your father.” She looked away, the pain of that memory still fresh after all these years.

“I was pushing you to try rehab and get back to baseball, and when you asked me why, I didn’t say anything but you saw the answer in my eyes.” She looked back at him. “It wasn’t even really the answer. It was a fear that I had, and given everything, it came to the surface and when you saw it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so hurt before.”

He met her gaze, his expression full of trepidation. “What was it?”

“I was scared that you were going to become your father, scared that you already were. That’s why I wanted you to go back to baseball. To change things.”

“Change what?” he asked, sounding confused.

She sighed. How easy it was to forget what he could and couldn’t remember. “Do you remember why your Dad never went pro?”

He nodded. “Since I was a little kid, he would bring that up regularly. He had a shoulder injury, right?”

“Yes, and no.” So many things he didn’t know, which were all things that could hurt him. “We all found out later that your father, uh, exaggerated his injury."

"Exaggerated?"

She nodded. "I mean he injured it, but he made it seem worse than it was because he couldn’t take the pressure from your grandfather, or everyone else. He was like a prodigy on the field when he was young, but once he got to college, he wasn't that special anymore. He was playing against equally talented players. And when he wasn't performing as well as expected in college, and all that pressure came to bear, he saw the injury as an out.

The shock was clear in Jason's eyes. “So the legendary career cut short was all a lie?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wow,” he said softly. She decided to give him some time to absorb the news and let the conversation slip into silence. A few seconds later, however, Jason looked up at her, his eyes questioning. “And I was turning into my father?”

“No!” Her denial was swift and sure. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to gather her thoughts, so that she could clearly explain this to him. She owed him that. "No. You weren’t, Jason. Not at all. It was just. .  .” She sighed, wondering why this was still so hard. “Right around then, that’s when the truth about your mother's affair came out. Everything was really messed up. You and Tyler were fighting again and I was caught in the middle. And it looked like you were falling back under your father’s influence and I was scared."

"I was also eighteen and married and in college and it was all so overwhelming that when we started having problems, I didn't know how to deal." She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “You couldn’t ever be your father, Jason. And deep down, I knew that. But our lives got so tangled and complicated at that point and everything and everyone seemed so screwed up. Then when you got injured and decided to quit baseball and go work for your father, I couldn’t help. . ." She shook her head. "That’s not true. I could help it, but I didn’t. So I saw the similarities and panicked and jumped to conclusions, very wrong conclusions.”

“You were so hurt,” she said softly, thinking back to that day yet again. “That was something that you never wanted, something that scared you too. Becoming your father, and making the same mistakes. You didn't want a life full of regrets like him. So when you saw that fear in my eyes. . .” She looked away, unable to face him then. “I was the person who was supposed to believe in you, who was supposed to reassure you. I was the person who was supposed to see you at your worst and still love you. I was the person who would never see Bruce Kincaid in you.” She fought to keep the tears in check. “After that, we couldn’t fix anything anymore. We ended up separating a few weeks later.”

She looked back at him, but he was looking down, his hands fidgeting again. She willed herself to go on. “That wasn’t even the worst part.” He glanced up at her quickly. “The worst part was that, when we separated, I felt, even if it was just for a brief time, I felt relieved.”

His green eyes flashed, but she forced herself to meet them. “I hated myself for that. How could I be relieved about losing you? About losing our marriage? But I did, because for that brief instant, I stopped feeling so overwhelmed and scared. Like I didn’t have to worry about you or your life anymore. Didn’t have to worry about getting caught up in the family drama anymore." She smiled sadly. "I could be free."

“I never told you that before,” she said softly. “Not even after we reconciled. I guess I’ve always felt so guilty about it. I think I always will. I told myself it was good, because you went back to baseball, and you excelled. Every time you won, I told myself that I did the right thing because you were already changing things. You weren't going to have the life your father did."

She grimaced. “It was all bull of course. Just things to try and convince myself that I wasn’t being selfish, that I hadn’t hurt you so badly. That I didn’t throw you back to the wolves so that I could to stop feeling so overwhelmed, that I could be free.”

“So baseball didn’t really have anything to do with it." She sighed. "It was me. Baseball was just an easy target. It gave me something to focus on. I could rationalize that having you give it up would only make you resent me and turn us into carbon copies of your parents.” She shook her head. “It was a way for me to not face the fact that I didn’t know how to deal with it all. When you gave up baseball, I thought that you were making such a huge sacrifice for me. I mean I looked at it like you were giving up not only your dream, but a huge part of yourself. And here I was - a mass of fears, doubts and insecurities. I felt like I didn't deserve you, much less your sacrifice. That’s why I tried to get you to go back.” She scoffed. “Didn’t really work out did it? Blaming baseball, or your parents, or the universe was just easier than blaming myself.”

“That’s why I said what I did when I was drunk. It was really the guilt I still feel for giving up on you back then. On us.” She made a face. “Funny how I was going to make the same mistake a day ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was going to give up again.” She met his eyes. “Your father was right. Your accident gave you, and me, a chance to change things. To stop running in circles. But we haven’t, not really. And we need to.” She drew in a deep breath, hoping it would give her the boost of strength and resolve that she needed. “And I have to do it this time.”

“Megan, what-“

She shifted so that she was facing him directly, making it hard for him to avoid her eyes. “You have been the one who has always had the most faith in us. You were always so strong, and so sure about us.  It was like you had absolute faith that we were supposed to be together.” She smiled. “Even now, you’re still the one with all the faith.”

“No, I-“

“But you shouldn’t be,” she said quietly. “You can’t be.”

“Megan."

“Because you need to focus on something else.” She sought his eyes and then held them. “You have to focus on yourself, Jason. You have to figure out who you are, and what you want.”

“What are you-“

“You know this already. We were really young when we got married. And at that age, you have so many things to figure out. What to do with your life, what your goals are, and how to reach them. You’re also trying to figure out who you are. That’s all really hard on your own, it’s twice as hard when you also have to consider another person and their goals and dreams.”

“You know, I think I’ve gained some self-awareness since college.” She chuckled deprecatingly. “At least I would hope so.” She grew serious again. “The reason I felt so scared and overwhelmed when we were married was because I wasn’t sure of myself yet. And I wasn’t sure of us because of that. When things got really bad, I didn’t think I had the strength to help you through it. To help us through it.”

“I didn’t have a strong enough sense of myself to realize that I could never, no matter what, end up like your mother. Just like you could never turn into your father. Or that I could be what you needed and that would be enough. I didn't know that we were worth whatever sacrifices either of us had to make.” Her voice was quiet but there was a confidence there that surprised even her. But she knew it was true. Her talk with Tyler helped to shift her perspective. They really had been through so much, and here she was, stronger than before. And she knew that she had strength enough for the both of them now. “I know better now. That’s because I know me better now.” She looked at him. “And you need that, Jason.”