You Should Smile (20 page)

Then, with a sudden understanding that alarmed me, I realized.  I knew.  I knew why she ran.  It wasn’t that I didn’t tell her. 
She
couldn’t face
me.
 
She
couldn’t deal with
me. 
My rage dissipated, only to turn to complete despair.  Despondent.  Broken.  I knew I’d lost her and I had no idea how to get her back….or even if I ever could.

Shay:

Nearly one month had passed and I was finally smiling again.  My appetite had started to return and I was beginning to gain a little of my weight back.  The dark circles under my eyes were beginning to fade.

I hadn’t spoken to Thad since that morning – before I saw the photographs.  He’d called a few times that day, but I deleted the messages without listening to them.  He never called back.  I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing in the end, but it is what I asked for.  He’d respected that, at least.  I thought of him every single day, a thousand times a day.  I’d stop in a little shop or go into a pub and I’d see something or think of something that reminded me of him.  I noticed this week, though, that those thoughts didn’t make me cry like they did a few weeks ago.  I was learning to smile again.  When I thought of him now, I hoped he was okay.  I hoped he was grinning.  I still loved him with all of my heart.

Grant and Ethan have been great.  Grant wanted me to call Thad back and hear him out at least.  He finally gave up trying to convince me, though, when he realized that I needed this time for myself. 

During that month in Edinburgh, I realized a lot about myself.  For the first time in years, I started dealing with my abandonment and trust issues from the past.  For the first time in years, I began to understand why I always ran away.  For the first time in years, I realized that my emotional needs couldn’t be solved with a bottle of wine.  For the first time in years, I actually started healing.

Edinburgh is an amazingly beautiful city.  I met all kinds of interesting and kind people there – strong people full of pride.  Sometimes I’d walk the Royal Mile at night, just so I could see Edinburgh Castle shining at the top of the hill.  I’d imagine I was living in the 1500s, looking up at the castle and wondering what it was like back then.  The city helped me grow stronger.

Grant, Ethan, and I often went to a local pub just off the Royal Mile.  It wasn’t a touristy place; it was a hidden gem, an authentic pub full of local, regular patrons.  We met many of the characters there and grew to love them as friends.  One particular old man was there every night.  His name was Ian.  He was 75 years old and a retired shipbuilder.  His wife had died seven years earlier, so he told us he hung out every night at the pub to be surrounded by friends.  He was lonely.

One late summer night, I stopped by the pub to grab one drink – just one – before heading back to Grant and Ethan’s place.  Unlike bars in the U.S., I never felt awkward or scared going out by myself there.  That night, Ian was sitting in his usual spot, laughing with a friend.  He turned to face me, his red-gray bushy eyebrows dancing above his red-tinged nose.

“Aye, Lass.  How’re ye?”

“I’m fine, Ian.  How are you?”

“Been bett’r, I s’pose.  Today’s me annivers’ry.”

My heart hurt for him.  “Oh, Ian.  I’m so sorry.  I know you miss her.”

“Aye, lass.  I shor’ do…..ev’ra day.  If I co’ have one wish, just one wish, lass, I’d wish fer one mor’ night……Just one mor’ night.”  His eyes grew teary and he smiled a rueful smile full of crooked teeth. 

Then, he grabbed my hand and covered it with his own.  His hands were worn, leathery, aged with life.  “Go home t’ him, lass.  Go home t’ him now.  Dinnae waste anotha’ night….nae one mor’ night.”

I’d never mentioned Thad to him, but he somehow knew.  He’d seen it all along.  It was always written on my heart, I guess.  It always would be. 

I hugged him tightly.  “You’re a wise man, Ian.  Thank you – for everything.”

He patted my arm.  “G’bye, lass.  Life is short.  Be happy.”

I flew back home the next day.  Summer was ending.  Classes would begin soon, as would my new job.  I was ready to face my realities again.  I was ready to face him.

I entered my apartment with fear of what I was about to see.  Would it be trashed?  Holes in the wall?  I held my breath and opened the door – only to see a pristine living room and kitchen area.  It had clearly been cleaned and vacuumed, as well.  A month’s worth of massive mail sat on my kitchen counter.  Good lord, how much mail did I accumulate in a month?  In my haste, I’d completely forgotten to arrange for someone to get my mail.  There was a note lying beside the stack of mail with my name written on the outside.  Thad’s writing.  I knew he’d done all of this – picked up my mail for me, cleaned my apartment.  The offending manila envelope was gone.

With shaking hands, I picked up the letter and began to read:

Smiles:

I don’t know when you’ll read this letter, but I want to start out by saying I’m sorry and I love you with every breath I take.  Sorry doesn’t seem enough anymore for what you’ve been through this time.  You asked for space and I’m going to give it to you – even though all I want to do is jump on a plane right now and head to Scotland to beg you to come back.  (See, I know you better than you think I do.....) Going all caveman isn’t what
you
needed, though, so I’ve stayed put – beating myself up, controlling my anger, and still loving you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever known. 

I’ve been taking an anger management class and going to counseling.  My last anger management class is next week.  I’ve learned techniques on dealing with my pent up rage.  It’s been eye-opening and helpful.  The counseling is helping, too.  I’m finally talking about my feelings and my dad leaving.

You deserve an explanation for what you saw in those pictures.  I know you know who sent them.  By now, I’m sure you’ve realized it happened long before I met you.  I did file a restraining order against her with the police and turned everything over to them.  For now, that’s seemed to work.  I haven’t heard from her again, at least.

I’ve thought over and over in my head how to explain what happened.  I was so stupid.  I didn’t know she’d set up a camera.  I guess she thought she could use them against me someday – and she did.  There is no limit to her malice.  Maybe you don’t want to hear all of this, but I want to leave no secrets.  No more surprises. 

That night was about five weeks after the miscarriage.  I was already looking for a way out.  Gina could tell I was pulling away.  A few days before, she came to me and said she wanted to bring her friend, a woman she’d met at another conference, into our bed.  I’m not going to lie, every man fantasizes about that, probably, and I’m no exception.  I hesitated at first, but Gina said she really wanted it for “us”, to help us heal.  I’m no martyr, for fuck’s sake, but she’d just lost a baby, too, so I finally agreed.

Her friend came to our place and brought cocaine with her.  She said it’d help loosen us up a little.  Gina had done coke before; I haven’t done it before or since.  That night, I’d already been drinking bourbon, so I was feeling the effects of that before her friend even got there.  I gave in.  I was drunk.  Our baby was gone.  I was with a woman I didn’t love.  Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone at that time.  I’m glad you didn’t meet me then.

After it was over, I felt empty and pissed off.  Gina and I got in a huge fight because I made that woman leave.  I couldn’t stand to look at either one of them.  That was really the final straw with Gina.  I broke it off soon after and she moved out.  Then, I found the diary and learned her motives.

So there’s the story.  There is no ‘good’ explanation for what happened.  That period was the one of the lowest points in my life, documented ruthlessly by a woman with no soul.  And though I know that participating in the threesome wasn’t ‘wrong’, it’s not something I’m proud of, either.  What I regret more than anything is that I put myself in a position where she could do this.  She won again. 

I understand why you left.  I know why you needed to.  I know that you couldn’t face me and why.  I’m sorry.  I’ll never let my anger get out of control again. 

Shay, I can’t imagine how you felt looking at those images.  I can’t even fathom how I’d feel or what I’d do if the situation was reversed. 
If you’ll let me, though, I promise you this:  I’ll spend every waking moment of my life helping you forget. 

Come back to me. 

I love you.

Pickup Grinner

Tears streamed down my face as I read his words.  They weren’t really sad tears, though.  I wasn’t really sad or mad.  I was actually at peace with everything, even though it still hurt to think about what happened.  Mostly, my heart ached for the sight of him.  My body yearned for his touch. 

I looked to the rest of the mail and there I saw them – manila envelopes addressed to me with Thad’s name written clearly in the return address.  One envelope sent to my apartment every single day I was gone – nearly four weeks’ worth.

They were numbered in the left-hand corner, so I began with “#1” and opened it.  There was a beautiful photograph of us together one day at the job site.  It was my favorite picture of us together.  He was hugging my waist and we were both grinning.  We looked so in love, so happy.  Taped to the photograph was a note:  “I told you that I would spend every waking moment helping you forget.  This is the beginning.  Step One:  From this point forward, I want manila envelopes to remind you of something happy – a photograph of us in love, a photograph of something you love, a photograph of something beautiful.  Every day.”

Okay, I was completely bawling now, but they were very good tears.  Happy tears.  I smiled as I reached for the second envelope.  It was a photograph of the ‘A Hand UP’ house – completely finished!  It looked so beautiful!  A pain scattered across my heart as I thought of all the people from the site I missed.  I hoped they’d understand why I left.  I read the note: “The house is finally finished.  It looks so great, Shay.  We couldn’t have done it without your help.  Everyone misses you.  Mom sends her love.  She misses you, too.”

I continued to go through and open the envelopes, revealing photographs of things we’d shared, photographs of places and things I loved, and photographs of people I loved.  All with sweet notes attached.  It was breathtaking.  He knew exactly what I needed. 

Then I saw a card in the pile from a postmark I didn’t recognize.  No longer fearful of the unknown, I opened it to read scrawled, unsteady writing:

Miss Shay:

I hope it’s okay that I wrote you.  I got your address from the A Hand UP listserve.  We sure do miss you around here, but I told you before that I understand how love can make or break folks.  You’re not broken yet, Miss Shay.

Boss don’t know I’m writing you.  He’d probably get mad if he knew, though he’s Mr. Softy Pants now days.

Anyway, we’re gonna dedicate the homeless house on Thursday the 25th at 6pm.  I just thought you’d like to know, in case you’re back.  I hope you can come.  A house dedication is a beautiful sight to see – the final goodbye for us and the first hello for someone else.  A new start for them. A new life.  Another chance.

Everyone deserves another chance, don’t ya think, Miss Shay?

With my love,

Roscoe

I smiled and shook my head.  Roscoe was a good, good man.  He wasn’t too subtle, but his message was heeded.  I would go to the dedication.  It was only a day away.  I needed to see the final result of all of our work.  I needed to see the happiness in someone’s eyes as we gave them a new start. 

I needed to see the only man I will ever love.

Gathering up all of my new photographs, I rolled my suitcase down the hall and into my bedroom.  I gasped as I looked inside.  On the wall, next to the bed, was a huge mirror.  It took up nearly the entire wall.  It was set in an ornate wooden frame, beautifully carved with delicate roses.  Phenomenal.  The room looked so much bigger!  Wow.

There was another note attached to the mirror.  I opened it and read:

“Step Two:  I want you to know that the only person I’ve ever imagined myself with forever is you.  If you ever come back to me, I’ll show you that you’re the only one by making love to you in front of this mirror.  That way, the only images you’ll remember seeing are the images of me making love to YOU.  Only you.  Always.”

Oh goodness.  The man was good. 
Really
good.  I started unpacking as thoughts of making love in front of that mirror with Thad ran through my mind. 

Later, I called Grant to let him know I was home safely.  Their flight wasn’t due to come in until the next day.  I also filled him in on what Thad had done in my apartment.

“Oh my god, Princess.  Please tell me you’re gonna go back to him!  I don’t want to hear anymore of your numbnut excuses!”

I laughed.  “Calm down, Queenie.  I’m going to the house dedication tomorrow.  I know he’ll be there.  I just hope he still wants me.”

Grant snorted. “Still wants you?  The man sent you an envelope in the mail every single day.  That takes some dedication, Princess.”  Then, he paused.... “Besides, trust me.  He still wants you....”

I knew Grant well enough to catch the inflection in his voice.

“Alright, spill it, Grant.”

“Uh...what are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about….”

“Well....He and I’ve been emailing a lot the past month.  He just wanted to make sure you were okay.  He’s my friend, too, so don’t get all pissy.”

I smiled.  “I’m not mad, Grant.  He needed your friendship, too.  Thanks for convincing him not to come to Scotland, though.  I don’t know how you did it, but I did need that time for me.”

“I know you did, Princess.  He figured it out.....maybe with a teensy little bit of help....”

“Love you, Grant.”

“Love you, Princess.”