These Three Words

by Holly Jacobs

  That was the thought that stuck with me as I walked the rest of the hill to the office. I’d just unlocked my car when Ash pulled into the lot next to my car. “Addie, how is he?”

  “I sent you a text,” I said.

  “Stable doesn’t say much.” His voice and expression were neutral, but I recognized his reproach.

  “I’m sorry, Ash. I forget that Gray being sick doesn’t affect just me, but you, too.”

  He nodded, accepting my apology.

  “There’s really nothing more than that to say,” I told him. “Gray’s still sedated. They’re working on stabilizing his blood pressure. When they feel it’ll be safe, they’ll take him off the sedation and he’ll wake up.”

  “Then he’ll come home?” Ash asked.

  I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t sound like it. He’ll need rehab for a while. And then he’ll go home.”

  Slowly, he asked, “When he comes home will you be there, Addie?”

  I didn’t need to think about the answer. Maybe I hadn’t figured everything out, but this much I knew. “Yes. I’m not going anywhere until he’s well.”

  “But after?” he pressed.

  I felt a surge of anger because that was a question I couldn’t answer. I remembered that Gray and I had been happy, and I remembered that not only had I once loved him, but I also remembered that I still loved him. But the rest? Could we find our way back to each other? I didn’t know.

  “Ash, you know I love you, but I’m not going to discuss my marriage with you.”

  “You need to discuss it with someone,” he insisted.

  “You’re right, I do. With Gray. Not that it will be a discussion. If conversations are ping-pong games, then the ones with Gray are the type where one person bends the table against a wall and plays solo. I hit the ball against a wall, again and again. It bounces back to me without Gray ever touching it. No one can sustain a game like that for long. On their own.”

  Ash nodded. “A couple of weeks ago I told him he needed to go see you and talk things out. He said he’s no good at figuring out what to say. He said he was sure you knew he loved you and there wasn’t much to say after that.”

  “Ash, I do love him, but a relationship should be a dialogue, not a monologue.” Maybe that summed it up. Our marriage had been a monologue and, after my straw moment, I simply couldn’t sustain it anymore.

  I’d been heartbroken and unable to work out what I felt, much less work out what Gray felt. I admitted, “I was lost, Ash. I needed him and he turned away from me.”

  “That’s what I said to him. Obviously, she doesn’t know how you feel this time.”

  “What did he say to that?” I asked.

  Ash shook his head. “He didn’t say anything. He turned around, went into his office, and turned on some music.”

  That summed up our marriage. When things got difficult, Gray didn’t say anything. He just turned away.

  I had just officially discussed my problems with my husband more with Ash than Gray and I had ever managed, even with one aborted trip to a therapist.

  “I’m running home to grab a shower and change my clothes before I go back,” I told Ash.

  “Eat something, too, okay?” he said.

  I nodded my agreement, if only to stop him from taking me inside and force-feeding me something.

  I didn’t argue. I simply nodded, closed my car door, and sped away.

  A few minutes later I drove down the hill to JoAnn’s house on Ferncliff.

  I let myself in the door and dropped my purse, anxious to hurry up just in case the hospital tried to call me.

  I didn’t set the envelope down. I took the papers that I’d carried around for twenty-four hours upstairs. I started to put them on the bed, but instead I found myself walking through the bedroom to the second-story deck. I sat in the chair, opened the envelope, and pulled out the divorce papers.

  MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT, the header proclaimed in bold, capital letters.

  AGREEMENT by and between Adeline Frasier Grayson (hereinafter referred to as “Wife”) and Graham R. Grayson, Jr. (hereinafter referred to as “Husband”)

  I skimmed through all the gobbledygook lawyer-speak.

  One sentence stood out.

  . . . we now mutually desire to dissolve our marriage and live permanently separate and apart from each other, as if we were single . . .

  “As if we were single,” I murmured to myself.

  I had so much I needed to do, but for the moment, I sat on the deck, looking out at the bay, holding papers that stated I wanted to live my life as if I were single, and I knew it for the lie it was.

  What I wanted was Gray.

  It’s what I’d always wanted.

  I remembered our wedding day, just across the bay on Presque Isle peninsula.

  “Hey, hippie,” JoAnn said. “It’s time.”

  “Hippie?” I asked with a laugh. Everything seemed funny today. Everything seemed bright and sparkly.

  I’d read stories about prewedding jitters, but I hadn’t experienced them. This was where I was meant to be . . . marrying Gray.

  I had no family left to speak of and Gray only had his mother. So we decided on a quiet affair—just his mom, our friends, and a district justice whom Gray knew.

  I was the one who’d suggested the beach.

  Gray agreed, more because it was what I wanted than anything else.

  I walked with JoAnn from the tree line across the rocky sand to the water’s edge where Gray, his mom, and Ash waited with the district justice. Other friends gathered in a small semicircle.

  As I approached, I took Gray’s hand and I looked in his eyes. I saw no trace of jitters there either. I simply saw love.

  The justice said, “Welcome to this celebration of two people who have come together to join their lives permanently. From this day forth, they’ll still be two individuals, but they’ll share one heart. Two individuals, but one marriage. Two people with one love.”

  He nodded at me.

  I’d practiced this moment in my mind so many times over the last few weeks. I didn’t feel at all nervous as I said, “Gray, I think that I’ve loved you since the moment I met you in kindergarten. You put your arm around me and said, It’s okay. I’m here. And you’ve been with me ever since. First as a friend, then as someone I loved. And after today, you’ll be something else entirely. You’ll be my husband. I promise to love you, care for you, and be with you forever.”

  I didn’t slip a ring on his finger because Gray wasn’t the jewelry kind of guy. But I knew he didn’t need a ring to remind him we were married.

  The district justice cleared his throat, and Gray said, “I can’t be as eloquent as you. Finding the right words has never been my forte, but Addie, I love you. I will always take care of you, and protect you and the family we’ll build. I’d give you the world if I could.”

  He slipped a ring on my finger. He’d wanted to buy something elaborate, but the engagement ring was more than elaborate enough. I’d asked for a simple gold band.

  As he slid it on my finger, the justice said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  “I love you,” I said before he kissed me.

  “I love you, too,” he replied.

  I could almost feel the sand beneath my feet, and hear the waves lap against the breakwalls. I could feel the strength of his embrace and his conviction that he could protect me from anything.

  If I could go back, I’d tell him, “I don’t need you to take care of me, I just need you to love me. To hold me. To talk to me.”

  I realized there were splotches on the papers I held.

  On the heels of that thought, I realized it was my tear. It was quickly joined by others.

  I was sobbing. My chest heaved with each one. My nose ran. The crying escalated to the point tha
t I could barely catch a breath between each new wave.

  All these months, I hadn’t cried. I’d held it together. But Gray being sick was another straw, and it broke my resolve as easily as it had broken the proverbial camel’s back. I’d cried yesterday, but this was something else entirely.

  I cried for what we’d once been and what we’d lost.

  I cried because I might lose him forever.

  I’m not sure how long I cried, but suddenly, JoAnn was there, holding me. “Oh, Addie. Is it Gray?”

  I nodded. I wanted to tell her he was still alive and stable, but I couldn’t force the words out between my sobs.

  She didn’t ask anything else.

  She didn’t offer any hollow words. No I’m sorrys or it’ll be all rights.

  She simply held me and let me cry.

  I cried for Gray. For the life we thought we’d have. For the mess we’d made of everything. I cried for the son I’d wanted with every fiber of my being. The son I’d lost. We’d lost.

  Slowly, my sobs subsided.

  “He’s okay. Gray’s okay,” I finally said.

  JoAnn looked at the papers on my lap. “You don’t have to follow through on that.”

  “I know. But I don’t think we can go back. I was remembering our wedding. I was going to love him forever. He was going to take care of me. No matter how many times I told him that I didn’t need him to take care of me, I just needed him to stand with me, he didn’t get it.”

  “He never left your side after . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. That word, after, marked a division in my life. There was before, and now there was after.

  Before, I was young and in love. I thought that my love for Gray was enough to see us through anything.

  I obviously still hadn’t figured out what after was.

  “Physically, he never left my side. But he left me. I look at him in that bed and I talk to him, like the nurses said. It doesn’t feel strange. It feels as if that’s been our relationship. Me talking for both of us.”

  “Addie.” She wasn’t scolding, or denying the claim. With just my name she was saying she understood. “Tell him again when he wakes up.”

  I interrupted. “They keep saying he’ll have to be careful about his blood pressure. I can’t imagine me kicking up a fuss will be good for him.”

  “It’s not a fuss. Needing to be heard isn’t necessarily making a scene. Sometimes a whisper is as powerful as a scream,” JoAnn said.

  I thought about Mark talking about sometimes silence being as good as a prayer.

  Sometimes a whisper is as powerful as a scream.

  Sometimes silence is as good as a prayer.

  Three words matter—“here I am.”

  The other three words were “I love you.”

  It felt almost poetic. But poetic or not, I wasn’t sure it would help me and Gray. “I don’t know if I could take a chance and try to talk it through,” I admitted. “I mean, what if . . .”

  “Then tell him today,” JoAnn said. “Tell him while he’s sleeping. Say all the words you need to say.”

  “What good will it do if he can’t hear me?” I asked.

  “Maybe it’s not just him hearing, maybe it’s you saying. Maybe that will help you.” JoAnn looked at me, her expression somewhere between sadness and frustration.

  I thought about Maude, James with an S, Harriet, Siobhan, Mark, and even Alice. Talking to them had helped a bit. They were strangers who would never know the whole of my story with Gray. But telling them bits, and listening to pieces of their stories had helped me.

  I hoped it had helped them, too.

  But JoAnn was right, some things I needed to say to Gray. Even if he couldn’t hear me, I needed to say them.

  “Talk to him,” JoAnn said again.

  This time I nodded. “I will.”

  Foolish or not, like Mark had said, there comes a time when the words have to be said.

  “And leave the papers here. You shouldn’t be carrying them around.”

  I nodded, knowing she’d think I was agreeing to leave them when actually I was just acknowledging that I shouldn’t carry them around, but knowing that I would. Somehow I felt as if I kept ahold of the divorce papers, I could hold on to Gray as well.

  It was absurd and I knew it made no sense.

  But when I left, I put the now-mangled envelope into my purse and drove back to the hospital.

  I’d talked for both of us most of our relationship.

  One more time wouldn’t hurt.

  Chapter Ten

  When I walked into the hospital room, I realized that nothing had changed other than Nurse Alice was gone and Gray was in a new position. He was propped facing the tiny window.

  “We’re trying to avoid pressure ulcers,” the dark-haired new nurse said, answering my unasked question.

  She had a sunny sort of feel about her. I don’t go spouting about auras and the like, but some people just seem to radiate happiness. She was one of those.

  “Thank you,” I said as I walked back to the chair I spent the night in. I knelt down and studied Gray’s face. His color seemed better. There was a pink hue to his cheeks rather than the ghostly white they’d been since his attack. “I’m back, Gray.”

  “I’m Smita,” the new nurse said as if it was nothing out of the ordinary to find a family member talking to a comatose patient. “If you need anything, just ask. I’m only responsible for Mr. Grayson and one other patient today, so I’ll be close at hand.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Yesterday I’d said the words countless times by rote, but this time I meant it.

  Smita checked the monitors and added, “Alice was right, his vitals are better when you’re around.”

  Her pronouncement brought tears to my eyes. It felt as if my tears were lurking in the background, just looking for any excuse to fall.

  “Really, just holler if you need anything,” she reiterated as she left the room.

  “Thank you again,” I called after her.

  I sat down in the chair. A patch of sunlight sat squarely on Gray’s face. He didn’t even squint.

  I studied his face. I honestly couldn’t remember a time he wasn’t a part of my life. I knew that slight scar by his right eyebrow came from a stick that Darryl Smith hit him with. Not that anyone blamed Darryl. Gray was about eight at the time, and they’d been sword fighting.

  His face had gone from five o’clock shadow to full-on stubble. Another day or so, he’d have the beginnings of a beard. I ran my fingers across his rough cheek. Gray was the sort of guy who shaved every morning and again in the evening if we were going out.

  I’d always preferred him a little scruffy. But right now, I’d give anything if he could get out of this bed and go shave.

  Staring at his immobile features hurt. It reminded me how sick he was. I finally had to turn, and looked out the window. From my vantage point, I could see the sky was brightening as the sun started its climb. There were giant puffy fall clouds meandering past the window, so I knew there was a light breeze.

  I turned back to Gray, who hadn’t moved at all. “It’s nice to think everyone is right and my being here helps you,” I said. “I feel foolish having a conversation with you while you’re unconscious, but I promised Jo.”

  I didn’t know where to start.

  I reached into my purse and pulled out the envelope. I didn’t set it on the bed, but held it on my lap instead. “I came to your office yesterday to give you these. I know you can’t see them, but they’re divorce papers. There’s a line that says that we are agreeing to live apart from each other, as if we were single.”

  I looked at that face again . . . I knew it so well. I had planned on looking at it every day for the rest of my life. “Gray, I don’t know if I can go back and live as if I’m single, because even
when I was single, you were still the biggest part of my life.”

  I admitted, softly, “I don’t know what I want.”

  I walked to the window again and stared down at the cars. The sun bounced off them, flickering in my eyes. Maybe that explained why I teared up.

  Maybe not.

  “Since that day in December, everything I thought I knew and could depend on upended. We lost a son, Gray. Do you remember that appointment? You insisted on driving me to all of them. You’d taken me for the blood tests the week before, and that day you were with me when the nurse practitioner started her exam, then got the doctor. I knew something was wrong when he told me he wanted another ultrasound.

  “Thinking something might be wrong was so much more difficult than knowing . . .”

  Gray drove me to my doctor’s appointment. He’d gone to the other two, but this one was special. They were doing a sonogram and said there was a good chance they’d be able to tell the baby’s gender.

  I’d worn yoga pants and a T-shirt, because I knew they’d make the test easy and I wouldn’t have to disrobe.

  “I feel like a kid at Christmas,” I said as we waited for the tech to come in.

  Gray didn’t respond. He hadn’t said much about the baby. We hadn’t planned on starting our family so soon, but sometimes the things we don’t see coming end up being all the sweeter. I kept reminding him of that.

  “If it’s a boy—” I started, but the tech came in and interrupted the game. She had me lie back on the table, then squirted my stomach with gel and started moving the wand around silently.

  I waited for her to start pointing out the baby’s features, but she worked silently.

  “Can you point out what’s what?” I finally asked. I reached for Gray’s hand and he grabbed mine.

  She hesitated a moment, then finally said, “I’m new to this. I’m going to get the doctor and he’ll tell you.”

  She could have given Gray lessons in quietness.

  She hurried out of the room and Gray said, “Hunter,” in a way that might have seemed random to someone else. But I knew we were picking up the great baby-naming debate. “Timothy,” I countered.