He sighs deeply, like he’s out of air. She can see the pain in his eyes. He lets go of her hand, covers his face and starts to sob. She is so overwhelmed by his pain, she begins to cry too. “Tell me,” she begs, pulling his hands away from his face. “Oh god, please tell me.”
“I was with you at Pitie’. At the hospital. You were recovering from a broken collarbone, from the force of your fall. You were also under observation, spending three days in the psych ward. You told the doctor to keep me away from you. You told them I was the cause of your nervous breakdown. That you never wanted to see me ever again.”
“And you never tried to see me again.”
“It’s not like that, Tess. I blamed myself. If I were there with you, maybe things would have been different. I left you with your brother to buy a silly ring at the drugstore.”
His voice squeaks while delivering that final line. His pain is so evident, she can’t bear to watch the destruction in his movements. His head, his shoulders, his body bent over, cowering. Spineless. Those moments broke him. He’s a broken man. And they’re both about to die all over again. She decides he’s had enough.
“Oh no! No. No,” Tessa repeats in a toneless drone, pushing on the table, desperate to free her legs so she can run away. She flees from him. Through the outdoor lounge, into the nightclub, down the red, dark hallway and into the first elevator she sees. It’s packed full of people, but she doesn’t care. Her tears just won’t stop. She has to get away. Has to leave him be.
“Taxi!” she yells at the top of her lungs as she flies out the door.
Before she knows it, she’s in his arms. He grabs her from behind and lifts her up, kicking and screaming. “No! Let me go! Please Simon! I have to go!”
“No, no, no,” he says, his arms locked around her shoulders. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here, I’m here for you. It’s okay.”
“Put me down now!” She’s not sure whether she’s scared him into releasing her or whether he’s run out of strength. She hears his breathing. It’s uneven and shallow. And he’s wheezing. There’s a bunch of watchers now. Some people come and go, others remain standing to the side, watching their spectacle.
“I’ve done enough damage to you,” she says. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore. You’re better off without me.”
The pain she’s experiencing is physical. It causes her to double up, her knees hit the ground.
“Please, please. Just go!” she says this calmly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fractured. I’m shattered. Nothing can put me back together.”
He kneels on the ground and with both hands, gently pulls in her head, nestles it against his neck. “Shh, shh. That’s not true. We can fix each other. I love you, Tess. What happened to us was beyond our control. But you were right. We have love. Nothing can take that away from us.”
“You’ll leave. Just like the rest of them. You’ll leave,” she mutters.
“No, baby. I’m here to stay. I’m here. Let me fix you. If you love me, that’s all we need.”
His heart is failing physically.
But tonight, it’s thriving, screaming with life, gloriously beating, ferociously fighting.
Because of her.
He holds her like this until her shaking subsides, stroking her back, planting kisses on her head. “Of all the places you’ve taken me to around the world, the only place I want is with you. This is the best place,” he cries. “Here. With you.”
The feel of his skin, his smell, the steady beating of his heart against hers, they all manage to reel her back in. To quiet her down. He tips her chin up and looks into her eyes. She’s back in Greece. On top of the world. He holds her face in his hands and puts his lips to her ear.
“Did you hear me? I love you.”
Her head bounces up and down until he finds her mouth and kisses her. “I love you too,” she mumbles into his lips. “Please take me home.”
Simon’s doubts about the way she felt disappeared completely that night when she undressed him for the first time. Tessa fell back at the sight of the flaming red incision spanning from his collarbone down to his stomach. She sank to her knees and wailed loudly, overtaken by the gravity of Simon’s sickness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she mumbled over and over again. Until she quickly composed herself and lovingly trailed her finger along his jagged skin. She followed it up with tiny kisses up and down his great big scar. “I love you,” she whispered, undressing herself completely and holding her arms up in offering. “Take me. I’m yours. My love will fix your heart.”
“I think you’d better put on something decent,” Tessa tells him as she sets the laptop up for a Skype session. “I don’t think we’d want to shock Owen. At least not yet.”
There they were in his hotel room at the Standard, drunk and hungover from an emotional night together. He saddles up to her, presses himself against her back and turns the laptop in the opposite direction. “Position it this way, you’ll be fine.”
She laughs. “Yeah, smartass. You’re in this session with me in five minutes. Please put on a shirt. You can keep your bottom part the way it is, if that’s what you want. I like looking at it anyway.”
She takes the computer and places it on the coffee table instead.
“Fine,” he grumbles. Tessa dials in. Simon takes a seat next to her on the sofa, fully clothed. He hooks his arm around her and kisses her head. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” she assures him. She can see the worried look on his face when she gently pulls back and sits up straight.
“Okay, it’s ringing.”
“Hello, Tessa.” Owen’s face comes on just as the computer bleeps.
“Hi, Owen! Thank you for making it today. I was delayed in New York this morning but wanted to keep our appointment. I think it’s important for me to fill you in on what’s happened since we last spoke.”
All this time, she’s pushing Simon away, signaling for him not to show himself just yet. She pushes the camera with her feet until it’s far enough to capture them both on screen.
“I’m here with Simon. In New York.”
“Oh?” Owen leans back and his chair creaks. “Tell me what happened.”
Tessa glances at Simon and clasps her hands together. “I was here to attend a meeting and Simon came to see me.”
Simon bobs his head. First a squeak, and then a croak. “Hello, Owen. Dr. Allen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Owen says. “Simon, didn’t you tell Tessa a few weeks earlier that it was over? That it would never work between the two of you? She was quite devastated about this. What made you change your mind?”
“Uh.” Simon clears his throat. “Well.”
Tessa is nervous. They had talked for hours last night. Why does it seem like he has something new to share? He brings his hand to his face and begins to rub his cheek with the tip of his thumb.
“Well,” he begins. “I’m not in the best shape, health-wise. Tessa is a free spirit, you know? That’s the beauty of this woman. She never stays in one place for too long. I was worried that my limitations could hamper her ability to do what she likes to do.”
Tessa looks at him, surprised, her eyes pinched, her mouth slightly open. Gently, she caresses his face. “No, Simon, that’s not important to me.”
He smiles at her and continues. “And then when I saw her, and she asked me to stay with her that night, I realized I would give her the choice. That I just couldn’t walk away. And that she would have to be the one to decide.”
“Okay,” Owen says. “And Tessa? What do you think?”
“I have a lot of work to do, Owen,” Tessa says.
Simon pulls her to him and keeps his arm around her shoulder. Their knees are touching and she’s leaning on his chest.
“Simon told me about my recovery at the hospital after Jake—” Slight pause. “After we lost Jake. And I felt so horrible, so mad at myself for hurting him
that way. I don’t feel I deserve this love, I don’t feel he should love me after what I said and did.”
“Do you realize you weren’t in your right mind? That the trauma of the tragedy you went through made you say those words, do those things? That it wasn’t you?” Owen asks. He disappears from the screen for a few seconds and comes back with a coffee cup. He starts to drop sugar cubes in it—one, two, three—and then stirs through the vapors steaming out toward the computer screen. He probably thinks it’s going to be a while.
“I still find it hard to accept the things I did to Simon. How could I hurt him like that?”
“What do you think happened that you didn’t even try to contact him or look for him when you got home to the States?” Owen asks.
Simon leans forward, interested in her answer.
“Two months had passed.” She addresses Simon, facing him with her hand on his knee. “And I focused on rebuilding what had been left behind. There were matters related to Jake, his things, Riley and her grief. Time just slipped by and I…”
Tessa stares straight at Owen, who nods ever so slightly. She knows he’s trying to get her to reveal her secret.
Simon notices it. “And you what?” he asks.
“I had to work hard on accepting Jake’s absence in my life.”
The answer appeases him. Both men nod in unison. Owen’s chair creaks again. He leans forward. “The two of you have so much more to discuss. You will need to catch each other up on the three years you’ve been apart. Communication is key. And love. You have the love, you have the commitment. What’s next?”
“I’d like to take her to Paris as soon as early next week,” Simon says.
Tessa smiles at him. “I’m not in a rush.”
“It’s better that we go soon, try to help you put the missing pieces of the puzzle together. So we can move forward.”
She pulls his hand, lays its palm on her cheek and kisses it. “Okay.”
“Listen Simon, Tessa—Paris may not be the be all end all to your story. Don’t expect too much from that trip. Trauma like this can take years to unravel, and most times, there is damage. Tessa won’t be complete without Jacob. Ever. But you’re not alone now, Tessa. You have Simon. And Simon, make Tessa tell you everything you want to know about the years you missed. Don’t allow any resentment to fester. Get it all out in the open. I can see the love between the two of you. I heard about it, but now I see it.”
Tessa and Simon turn to look at each other. She smiles first, he smiles back.
Owen looks to address Tessa. “Listen, I’ve known you since you were in your teens. You’ve suffered so much loss, all inexplicable, all tragic. I truly believe everything happens for a reason. Don’t quote me on this, as this observation is more personal than professional. But philosophically, I think Simon went to the store at that exact moment for a reason. I think Jacob knows you’re in good hands. Call me, Tessa, when you get back. And if you need to speak to me while you’re there, you have my home number and my cell phone. Dr. Mathieu is also there, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see how well you’re doing! Bye for now!”
“Bye, Owen!” Tessa clicks END with the mouse and exits out of Skype.
Simon takes it from her hand and double clicks it twice.
“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing.
He kneels in front of her and spreads her legs. “Making sure he doesn’t see what I’m going to do to you.”
This time, they travel together. She meets him at the gate in O’Hare and they board the American Airlines flight to Charles De Gaulle. “Our first plane ride,” she says as they settle side by side in two pods.
“No, it isn’t,” Simon counters. “Tess! Have you forgotten where we met?”
She pinches his arm playfully and giggles. “Chill! I was teasing. Do I need to keep the boarding passes too?”
7C and 7D. Serendipity. “Of course.”
She leans in to kiss him. “You are such a romantic. I love it.”
Nine hours later, they’re in their hotel at the Place Vendome. It’s the same place that held such happy memories—a two-bedroom suite with three balconies, all with a view of the Eiffel Tower and the Tuileries Gardens. Laying in each other’s arms with the French doors wide open, the bright sun and the comfortable wind sweeping through the room, they catch up on the week they spent apart since their reunion in New York.
“Are you going to be okay?” Simon asks, turned to his side, his legs entwined with hers, arm across her waist.
“So far, so good. Do you think I’ll just remember things as we visit the place where it happened?” Tessa wove her fingers in between his.
“I don’t know, babe. But I think we should just make this like a vacation. If you remember, you remember. And if you don’t, then we have new memories to add to the old ones.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Tessa agreed. “Although I really was in no hurry to come here. We could have waited—”
“No!” Simon said emphatically. “We needed to do this as soon as possible. Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?” She rests her head on her elbow.
“For taking good care of me. Constantly checking on me and making sure I took my meds. For waking me up every hour to check if I was still breathing,” he says, smiling.
She giggles in response, although her mind is elsewhere. She wants to tell him before they leave the hotel. If they’re going to put together the missing parts of her past, she needs to connect the missing parts of his. She wonders briefly whether he already knows, and then she decides it’s unlikely. She dropped out of the limelight after the tragedy and there hadn’t been any photographs taken of her since Paris. Slowly, she sits up, scoots her body back so she’s leaning on the headboard. Simon remains prostate on the bed.
“Simon?”
He looks at her and smiles.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Okay, what is it? Are you remembering something?”
“No, no. But I need to fill you in on what’s happened since I arrived back in the States.”
He props his head up, leans on one hand. “Okay.”
Tessa slides off the opposite side of the bed and walks toward one of the larger suitcases. She returns to his side with a large, leather bound book.
“Sheesh. That’s what made your luggage so heavy!” he teases.
She doesn’t smile back. He sees the terror in her face through the tight line of her lips and the constant blinking of her eyes. She lets out a deep sigh and then her eyes fill up with tears.
“Simon, please listen before you say anything. You wanted to know why I never tried to contact you as soon as I returned home to the states. I don’t remember much about Paris, but I do remember arriving back in Chicago. I stayed with Riley and her parents. They moved back to Chicago at that point, intent on nursing their daughter back to health. I was so sick for weeks—we all thought it was the exhaustion and the shock that had simply taken a toll on my health. Besides, I thought it was impossible. I mean, I only had one ovary. They said it would be hard to—”
Simon hears the last sentence and knows. He reaches out for her, but she moves back, afraid his touch would mean anything more than sympathy.
Instead, she hands him the book. “We have a daughter.”
He gets up from the bed and circles around it. Repeatedly. He grabs his chest with his hand before covering his mouth to stifle a sob, his eyes upturned, his body shaking.
Simon returns to where she is. He takes the book, holds it and sits in silence. She waits. Her heart has dropped down to her feet. All the noise around them has dissipated. The window panes bang noiselessly against the walls, the curtains twirl and twist around each other. The wind becomes a muted breeze, blowing silently through their hair, their room, their things. In her mind, she begs for the explosion to happen. Anything. Anything but this silence.
“This is what you meant,” he mumbles. “How time just ra
n away.”
“Yes!” she cried. “Oh Simon. Please understand. I had such a difficult pregnancy. I had to be on bed rest from three months until she was born. And then I spent—”
He finishes her sentence. “You spent the last two years with our child. Alone.”
“Yes.”
He nods and turns to her, still clutching tightly to the unopened book. He turns pale, his cheeks hollow. And when she doesn’t hear anything, she pushes her luck.
“Simon, please. One truth. Tell me.”
She’s given him permission to unleash. And so, he does. The book drops on the bed and he whips around, driving his fist through the wooden slats on the headboard.
“Simon!” Her hand flies to her mouth.
“Fuck!” he yells. “I’m bloody pissed, okay? That’s my one truth!”
She covers her face knees tucked under her body, rocking back and forth. She doesn’t dare lift her head up. She feels the bed shift. He’s getting up.
“Don’t follow me.” He grabs the book in one swoop, swings his legs sideways and walks to the balcony. He then takes a seat on one of the chairs facing the gardens. Tessa watches as he slowly opens it. He lingers for minutes on each page, stopping sometimes to raise his head toward the sky.
She waits. And waits. And waits. At first, she sits motionless on the bed and watches him from behind. And then she decides to occupy herself by unpacking his things and putting his clothes away. Still, there’s no change. She turns on her laptop and downloads her manuscript. Before she knows it, two hours have passed. There he is, still sitting outside with the open book on his lap.
She turns to him in time to see him shaking violently, his shoulders shivering, his head thrown back as he takes deep breaths.
His pain. She needs to take away his pain. If only by leaving him, she will do it. The moment she always knew would happen is at hand. Who in their right mind would forgive such a thing? He had missed two years of his child’s life. That, to her, is irreconcilable.
Eight Goodbyes Page 24