Love Me Again Page 3

  “Please don’t cry, Jenna,” he said quietly. “It’s just... you know, we—I don’t—” It wasn’t like Dave to stammer at all, but he just couldn’t find the words. How could he tell her it was no longer working? That they’d grown apart. How did a love that once shone so brightly, be dull and dimmed to almost nothing? Beads of sweat formed at the back of his neck.

  “You wanna talk about divorce, Dave?” She asked quietly. “Is that it?”

  Dave wished that she would scream at him. Hit him, even. Walk out. But that would make it too easy, wouldn’t it? “So, you did see it.” He wasn’t asking.

  “Is that what you intended? For me to find it?” Jenna pursed her lips. Her tears flowed freely now.

  Dave shook his head and rubbed his face. He wanted to hold her—tell her it was all a mistake. That he was being foolish and stupid. “I wasn’t going to do anything, Jenna. I was never going to go through with it.”

  Jenna pushed the plate of curry away from her. “And you expect me to believe that?”

  JENNA CLOSED HER EYES and took a deep breath. It was hard to keep control of her emotions.

  1—2—3, she counted, as she breathed in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Yoga had been her saving grace during these years of being a mom to two young children and a wife to a busy surgeon.

  The more she thought about it, though—the angrier she got. It was times like this that she wished she was a drinker. Wine, whiskey, gin... whatever it was that could dull her emotions. Jenna looked at the wedding ring on her finger. “What a lie,” she blurted.

  “Jenna...”

  “Just stop, Dave.” She didn’t want to hear his voice. The voice that would ultimately ask her for a divorce. “I’ve given you everything.” Her voice shook with pain.

  “I know.” His voice was quiet and subdued.

  Jenna dared not look at him. “I gave you my whole life—I put everything on hold while you pursued your career. And now you want a divorce? What have I done wrong?”

  Dave got up and pulled a seat next to her. He took her hands in his. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Jenna.”

  Cocooned, Jenna’s hands felt small in his. They’d always laughed about that... about how small her hands were. Then he’d tell her it was because they fit perfectly, like a glove. “Who is she?” she finally asked.

  Dave paused. He looked her squarely in the eyes. “It’s not what you think, Jenna.”

  Jenna pulled her hands away. “Because who cares what I think, right?” Jenna shook her head.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what is it, Dave?” Jenna hissed. “Why don’t you tell me what it’s like, because I’m dying to know!”

  Chapter 5

  Dave looked into her puffy eyes. It hurt him to see her cry. It cut through him like a scalpel. But he couldn’t complain, because he’d started it. He was the one who’d taken the blade out. He’d cut her first.

  “Tell me,” Jenna pleaded. “Who is she?”

  “There’s no one else, Jen.” Dave rubbed his face. “You know there’s no one else.” He brought a hand to her face to wipe the tears, but she pushed it away.

  “Then why do you want a divorce?” Her voice rose. “I don’t understand!”

  “I don’t want a—” Dave sighed. “Things have changed, Jenna. We’ve grown apart.” He really hadn’t thought this through.

  He’d never meant for her to see those papers. Dave wanted to kick himself for leaving it behind. The folder had been in his bag for over two months now, and he’d only taken it out to rearrange some things before leaving for work that morning. He should have thrown it out—shredded it.

  He wanted to tell her that they—she—had changed. He missed the carefree way that she was. The kisses she’d lay on him sporadically through each day. The text messages. The little notes she’d leave him in the lunches she used to pack. He missed the way she used to sing, shining a light into his otherwise dull existence. Me, me, me—you sound like a narcissist, Dave berated himself.

  “What do you mean?” Her voice was softer this time, but it didn’t lessen the pain and Dave knew that. “Of course, things have changed. They were bound to. Things are always changing.”

  “We’re no longer the same—you and me. Our paths... they’ve split.”

  “For crying out loud, Dave! Stop talking in riddles and just say what you mean!”

  “I feel like I don’t belong in this family anymore,” Dave blurted. There—he’d said it.

  Over the last few years, Jenna’s priorities had changed. And rightly so. They were adults. Had children now. Two of them! But he’d never expected the change to be so abrupt.

  She used to sing all the time. But she’d stopped even that. Everything always had to be perfect. Like they were the First Family or something. It felt as if they were a carefully crafted family—made to appear perfect. Perfect house. Perfect children, never a hair out of place. The perfection suffocated him.

  Jenna didn’t speak. She listened.

  Dave always thought she was a good listener. Over the years, they’d spent many a time curled up in each other’s arms—in bed, on the sofa, by the lake, at a picnic—talking about their dreams. He talked, and she listened. She talked, and he listened. And then they’d discuss.

  Dave could feel his resolve breaking. She could yell at him—scream, maybe. Break something. But no. Jenna was perfect. Always had been. That was one of the things he’d liked about her—not the perfectionism. But that she was such a—what’s the word?—a woman. She was the perfect woman. The perfect wife. The perfect friend. And what was he? The doggone scumbag that’s breaking her heart. “Look, it’s not you, Jenna. It’s me.”

  “Stop saying that! We both know that’s a cop out.” Jenna pinched her thumb.

  Dave eyed her hands. She always pinched her fingertips whenever she was nervous. Or in this case, stressed or maybe even angry.

  She was into yoga. Exercise for the soul, she called it. And she was into natural healing. Pressure points, tapping, self-affirmations, and all that. Maybe there was something to it, because he never saw her stressed or under pressure much. She was the epitome of calm.

  “I feel—I feel like we’ve grown apart,” Dave said.

  “You’ve already said that, Dave!” Jenna snapped. She exhaled a slow and controlled breath. “Look, for both our sake’s, why don’t you just say whatever is on your mind?”

  “I have to—”

  “Don’t worry about what I might think or how I might feel. Because, let’s face it—nothing can make me feel any worse than I do now.”

  Dave curled his hands into a loose fist and cracked his knuckles. He’d made his bed. Now he needed to lie in it. He needed to go through with it. He’d rehearsed this moment many times in his head before, and yet the words were stuck like blocked arteries. “I haven’t got a role in this family. You and me... we’ve been heading in different directions for a few years now.”

  Jenna pressed her lips together.

  Drat! Dave looked away. This was harder than he’d ever imagined it could be. His legs shook nervously.

  Jenna’s face crumpled in confusion—maybe exasperation. “Say something, Dave!”

  He’d never seen Jenna so hurt, and he hated himself for being the cause of it. This wasn’t going the way he thought it would. Nice one, hotshot! How exactly did you think it would go? The more he tried to verbalize the thoughts that have wracked his brain for so long, the weaker they seemed.

  Jenna covered her face with her hands as she rested her elbows on the table. “I can’t believe this...”

  Dave looked at Jenna. Her beautiful blond hair fell over the sides of her covered face. He ached to run his fingers through it and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

  “I have given my whole life to you, Dave—my whole life! You wanted to become a doctor, and I supported you.”

  “I never said—”

  “You moved to Portland, and I followed yo
u.”

  “I know that, Jen.”

  “When Macy was a baby—you were never around.” Jenna’s voice was soft but steady. Flat. “I spent night after night on my own with an infant, while you were at the hospital working nights. Or have you forgotten that?”

  “Of course, not.”

  “And when Rory came along—it was the same thing over again. Only then, there two. I felt like a single mom.” She glanced at him. “I never once complained, because I knew it was what I needed to do for our family.”

  Dave hung his head in shame. She was right. He was selfish. She’d never once complained. He’d failed her, and he’d failed himself.

  “On days when you were home, tired from yet another all-nighter at work—I kept those babies quiet so you could rest, Dave. The park, the library—it didn’t matter where we went. I just knew that you needed your sleep.”

  “I don’t think I’m cut out for—”

  “But don’t let any of that stop you from having what you want, yet again.” Jenna sat up; her shoulders squared. “You want a divorce, Dave? I’ll give you a divorce.”

  “Jenna—”

  “I will not beg you to stay.”

  Although her there was a quiver in her voice, Dave knew he’d done it. He was throwing away everything he’d ever wanted—an amazing wife, beautiful children, a grand family home. He fell quiet. None of it felt right.

  “But before that, I want you to think about this. Everything I did, I did for you. For us—for our family. Don’t think for one moment that there weren’t times when I hadn’t felt like giving up too. Or walking out. Or, or—just taking a break. Even just getting a massage, for crying out loud!” Jenna threw her hands up. “If you want to go—the door’s right there.”

  Dave looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean exactly what I mean. Pack your bags and get out of my house.” Jenna hissed. “Or, do you want the house too, Dave? Do I not deserve even that?”

  The fury in her eyes was unmistakable. “Let’s not do it this way, Jen, please.”

  “And just how did you want to do it, Dave?” Jenna’s voice rose. “Do you want me to throw you a going away party? Invite all our friends?”

  Dave couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Jenna this angry. What mess had he created?

  “Maybe I should send out printed invitations to our families too. That would be a great hoot, don’t you think?”

  He’d asked for it. This is what he’d wanted. Get up, Dave, he told himself. Man up and face the music.

  “You’re just like your father,” she hissed.

  And there it was... the one thing he’d hoped she’d never say.

  Chapter 6

  Jenna knew that those were the last words Dave would have ever wanted to hear. But she wanted to hurt him—as much as he’d hurt her. She imagined driving a serrated knife into him and turning it clockwise—and then counterclockwise. Never mind that a bread knife probably couldn’t stab anyone, but she imagined it would hurt. She was hurting.

  Dave pressed his lips together and nodded.

  Jenna could see it had gotten to him. “And don’t even try to say that I’m like my mother, because I know for a fact, I’m not.”

  “No—you’re not like your mother, Jenna.” Dave stared back at her with a dullness in his eyes. “You’re just like mine.”

  Jenna took a sharp breath and held it in. And just like that, he had hurt her—again. Dave’s mother was the reason that his father had left. She was a calculating and manipulative woman who emotionally controlled those who dared to love her. But Dave had no choice. It wasn’t like he’d accepted a dare or a challenge. He was her son. Just a minor at the time. He had to love her. He had to live with her. Each other was all that they had. And because he had to... he’d also had to catch and bear whatever she threw at him.

  “You need everything to be so darned perfect all the time! This house? Dave threw his hands up—it feels like we’re living in a museum! You’re constantly on the go—backed by a strict schedule. You don’t sing... I just—I don’t know you anymore, Jenna.” Dave’s voice trailed off. “So yeah—I give up. Just like my father.” Dave raised his hands in surrender. “You win.” He slammed his hands on the table and pushed himself up as he kicked his seat back. “I’m outta here.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Dave.” Jenna quickly jumped up from her chair. “You don’t get to walk out on me. You don’t get to be the one who says, I give up. Because you know what? I do!” Jenna stormed out of the kitchen. She grabbed her bag and car keys and rushed out the front door, making sure to slam it shut behind her.

  DAVE CLENCHED HIS FISTS as he stood in the middle of the kitchen. He listened as Jenna slammed the door behind her.

  He raced out the front door to stop her, but caught only the red taillights of Jenna’s car as she drove off.

  As Dave stood outside on the perfectly manicured front lawn, he realized that was it.

  Dave went back inside the house and sat himself on the sofa. He rubbed his forehead as he let out a deep sigh. What a mess, he thought.

  What she’d said about him being like his father irked him. But she knew it would. She knew just how to press his buttons. She knew that being compared to his father would hurt him—and it did. Kudos to her. No one else knew him like she did. He closed his eyes and images of his father walking away, pushed through his head.

  Dave closed his eyes and recalled the days when things were simpler. Days when he and Jenna were young visionaries, both chasing after their dreams.

  When Jenna’s dream of pursuing a career in theater plummeted on the night of what would have been her big break, things began to change. He hadn’t known it then—but he realized now that that’s when they began to dream different dreams, while heading down the same path.

  He remembered it clearly.

  Then

  DAVE SAT BACK IN HIS seat as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. He’d never seen Les Misérables before and he was taken with the story. Behind the political message was a larger one—one about love and compassion.

  It had been a year since Jenna moved to Portland. And in that time, he had also begun his surgical residency. It had been tough not being able to see her every day when he’d left for med school, but they made it work, taking turns to drive out to each other every weekend. It was also helped that Portland and Eugene were only an hour and a half or so apart.

  Jenna had graduated last year and moved in with her aunt and uncle to pursue a career in theater. Dave also liked to think he was one of the reasons she’d moved—to be closer to him.

  After many small casting roles, Jenna had finally scored the role of Éponine in the musical. Promise me you’ll be there when I look into the audience tonight, she’d said to him over the phone on the day of the musical opening. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, darling, he replied.

  And now, there she was—his Jenna. Dave was so proud of her. He watched as the intro music played. She was singing a solo, On My Own. Dressed in a ratty costume, the lights shone on her muddied face. Dave gripped the ends of the armrests and held his breath.

  As Jenna opened her mouth to sing however, no words came forward. The music continued playing. Jenna opened her mouth again—this time, Dave could see the worry fill her small eyes.

  Go on, Jenna. You can do this, he willed her to hear him. Dave curled his hand into a fist and bit on the knuckle of his finger.

  Jenna opened her mouth and sang—“All by myself... don’t wanna be all by myself... anymore.”

  The crowd whispered around Dave. Their gasps and voices traveled like soft waves on to the beach at nighttime. “She’s singing the wrong song,” someone behind him whispered.

  And then the curtain fell. The orchestra played the introduction once more, but when the curtain re-opened, it was Jenna’s understudy that stood on the stage. And as if nothing happened, she sang the song that Jenna was meant to sing. “And now I’m all alone again, nowhere to
run, no one to turn to...”

  Dave got up and crept along the aisle, towards the exit. He went to the backstage entrance to see if he could see Jenna. “I’m her boyfriend,” he told security, as he explained what had happened on the stage. It took a while to get clearance, but they eventually showed Dave to Jenna’s dressing room. He had in his hands a bouquet—bright and colorful, just like her... except not at that moment.

  Dave raised his hand and knocked on the door. He waited for a moment and turned the doorknob as he slowly pushed it open. He caught Jenna’s eyes in the mirror.

  Dave stepped into the room and smiled at her. Her face was wet with tears—streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she whispered with a sniffle, bringing a tissue to her red nose.

  “Sssh”—Dave took her hand and pulled her up to him—“don’t think about it.”

  Jenna didn’t resist and let him pull her off her seat. “I’m ruined.” She buried her face in his chest.

  “These things happen,” Dave said comfortingly.

  “No!” Jenna looked up at him, her eyes wide and angry. “These things don’t happen! They’re not supposed to happen. I mean, I sang a song by Celine Dion,”—she scrunched her hair up with her fingers—“not even another song in the musical. An entirely different song!”

  “Just the same—I’m proud of you,” he said. “I brought you these.” Dave handed her the bouquet.

  Jenna took the flowers and let out a sarcastic snort. “Proud of me? For what? I messed up.”

  “I’m proud of you for getting up on that stage, Jen. For doing what you love—come what may.”

  Now

  IT WAS CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT when Jenna returned home. She got out of the car and from where she stood, she could see the master bedroom light was on. Jenna closed her eyes and released a breath she’d been holding.

  She didn’t go to the White Willow as she’d originally planned. Instead, she parked up by the lakeside and sat on one of the park benches which looked out on to the lake. It had been a beautiful night, but the ugliness that crept into her life took that all away.