The Letters She Left Behind: Free Chapter 3

Rereleasing January 14, 2020 online and with retailers.

CHAPTER THREE

Alex pulled a worn envelope from her purse and glanced at Adam who was motionless across the room. He leaned against the back of the couch, his glass of scotch held in one hand, loose, like it might drop to the floor. His other hand gripped the sofa’s spine. His eyes watched the envelope, as if she’d pulled the embodiment of Megan from her bag. If it wasn’t for the grief, it might have been worth a smile, but Alex understood his pain. She understood the desire to find Megan in the concrete objects of the world around them.

“Would you like to read it?” She held it out, the weight of the words far more than the paper that held them.

“It’s yours.” He looked down at his drink, brought it to his lips and took a sip.

She set it on the white marble countertop in front of her and cupped her hands around her own glass of scotch.

A strained silence ensued; one that epitomized the canyon between them. On one side stood Adam, who’d made it clear he blamed her for everything that went wrong in his marriage. He carried a love for his wife in the very essence of his identity. On the other side was where she stood, and she’d made it clear Megan and her family – by extension, him - was everything to her, the very essence of her own identity. She loved Megan like a sister, and Adam… well, Adam was complicated.

Being here was bittersweet. She’d spent most of her adult life here, sitting on this barstool and laughing with her best friend. She could picture Megan, blond hair drawn into a ponytail, chasing one of the kids – probably Bekah – who’d done something naughty again through the room. Alex smiled despite herself, wishing things were different, that Megan was still here. She pictured Emma, their oldest, on one barstool doing homework and Megan on another working on a new article, with Alex in between grading essays. But being alone with Adam had been infrequent; perhaps only after the kids had been born and he and Megan had needed help.

She sighed wishing things were different.

“Adam, I-” she started.

“Look, Alex-” Adam said at the same time.

They both stopped when they heard the other’s voice.

“Let me,” he said and crossed the room stopping on the opposite side of the counter.

She looked up at him, and her frustration effervesced like steam. Despite the animosity that existed between them, they’d fought silent wars of even passivity and disconnection for the most part. Only on occasion had they openly engaged in verbal warfare. And when battles of open warfare were instigated, they’d been waged by Adam. She’d been willing to keep the peace because to her detriment, she couldn’t stay mad at him. It would have been easier if she could.

He looked at his glass and then up at her. His eyes were warm. “I don’t want it to be like this between us. Megan was important to both of us. I don’t want now – you know, being able to be in the same room - to be only because of her.” He set down his drink and ran a hand over his face. “Honestly, when I came to find you today, I was still bitter. But when I saw you, and you threw the same words at me I’d hurled at you after Megan’s funeral, I understood I wasn’t angry at you at all; I was pissed at myself. Then and now. I just took it out on you.”

Alex looked at him, delved into the fathoms of his dark eyes and glimpsed regret. They’d softened, the edges worn down by time and grief, and a narrow plane of something she didn’t recognize in their depths.

“I’m sorry for what I said that day. Hell, for the last twenty something years between us.”

The hope stirred by his words was almost too much. It made her uncomfortable wanting the words so much but being afraid of them. “Me too.”

He smiled, a real one that transformed his handsome face and reminded her of a night so long ago, his guard down due to alcohol and the bravery to go after what he wanted. He’d smiled like that. Alex’s heart split in two and raced in opposite directions. “Peace treaty? A real one?” He stepped around the end of the counter and followed him with her head.

She nodded. “A peace treaty,” and swiveled around in the stool to him with her gaze as he walked into the family room. His back to her, she took a moment to appreciate him - his wide back, the sinew of his muscles, the taper of his waist, musculature of his legs. Still surfing, she thought. He picked up a book from the table and returned with it, sitting on the barstool next to hers. After setting the book on the counter, he pushed it toward her across the countertop.

Alex caught the scent of his clean, citrusy cologne and leaned toward him to take the journal. Her hand brushed his as he transferred the journal to her. She drew back, the heat of his touch leaving an imprint on her skin. She suppressed the familiar feeling; she was used to tamping down.

“The first post-it,” he said.

Alex flipped the book open to entry Adam had marked. She read it and noticed the underlined words. “I see what you mean about the randomness of the words,” she observed and turned to the next entry, then another. “What were you trying to tell us?” Alex muttered and continued through the entry - a letter to Adam about when they’d met.

If I remember correctly, you had a thing for Alex at first.

Alex’s stomach clenched, constricting with anxiety, but she tried not to overreact. She checked the date and breathed a little easier. It was written long before she’d ever told Megan her secret. “Megan was deliberate about everything.” Alex turned the page.

“My thoughts too.”

“We can assume she underlined these words for a purpose.”

If Megan was trying to communicate something to Adam through her journal, why would she do the same thing in a letter to her? Could Megan have been trying to bring them back together? Alex was confident Megan knew she and Adam would have fallen away from one another after her death if for no other reason than Adam’s stubborn pride. Without her as the bridge between them, how would they cross to one side or the other? An ache encircled Alex’s heart thinking about her friend. “Have you made a list of the words, yet?”

Adam shook his head. “No. I’ve been preoccupied with reading the entries. I noticed, though, she stopped underlining the further I get into the books.” He reached across and flipped it open to an entry in the back of the book free of markings. “See. There are none in later journals.”

“Let’s list them.”

Adam retrieved paper and a pen from a desk in the kitchen. “You write. I’ll read them.”

They traded.

Twenty minutes later, heads together and bent over the same paper, Adam and Alex looked over the list of underlined words compiled from the few journals and Alex’s letter, they didn’t seem any clearer about them. 

“Let’s read them aloud. Would you read them to me?” She asked pushing the paper to him. ‘Maybe if we hear the words?”

“Sure.” Adam held up the list, leaned back, and recited the words and phrases. “First one – ‘dependent on us for her life’."

Alex closed her eyes and listened to the words as he read them. The first one she pictured Emma, Trey and Bekah; Adam and Megan’s children.

“Alex.”

Alex couldn’t imagine why Megan had underlined her name. But she imagined Megan smiling at her, pictured her as a co-ed roommate challenging her to do something brave.

“Football.”

Alex pictured Adam, sleek and sinewy, dropping back into the pocket for a pass. The image made her body ache. So, she pictured Trey, now a sophomore at HSU - a quarterback like his dad.

“Hide.”           

That one seemed strange. Hiding like her? In work? Her feelings?

“Campus.”

Alex worked on a campus. She and Megan had met Adam on a campus. Both of which included HSU. Trey played football for HSU.

“Assumptions. Rose-colored lenses.”

What could she possibly mean - to look at the message ideally – to look at this pragmatically?

“School in Hawaiʻi.”

Which? There were over thirty high schools alone. Ten colleges and community colleges. Countless other schools to consider. It was like a needle in a haystack. Except, Alex thought, she’d thought of HSU more than once.

“Ignorance.”

Alex opened her eyes and stole a glance at Adam as he continued to read the list. He’d put it back on the counter and leaned over it, his arms folded in front of him. His eyes were focused, a thick fringe of long dark lashes and a strong, masculine profile. Was he still ignorant to her secret, she wondered? She took a sip of her drink to purge the direction of her thoughts.

“Been blind.”

She glanced at him again. His dark hair, interlaced with silver was cut short, but long enough to look touchable. His dark complexion was vibrant, healthy. His features bold, like rocks in an ocean tide. That all-familiar tug pulled at Alex’s innards and she denied it.

Adam continued reading pausing between separate words. “Malicious. Anger of. Family. Ignorance of. Families.”

“Wait.” She tapped the paper. “Read those again,” Alex said, “But try and combine them and let’s see if they make sense.”

“Malicious. Anger of family. Ignorance of families.” He glanced at her. “They kind of do.”

“But whose family?” Alex wondered.

Adam continued. “Go with my instincts.”

Whose? Alex wondered? Megan’s instincts? Someone else’s?

“Don’t let.”

Alex ran her finger a long a gray vein of the marble and thought of most of her adult life spent in denial; She’d never allow herself to want.

“Do that to our kids.”

“Adam!”

He stopped looking up from the list.

“Read the last two together.” She leaned toward him and pressed closer to read the list with him.

“Don’t let do that to our kids.”

Alex turned her face to see him better. They were so close their noses almost bumped. She sat back. “She thought your children were in danger. What would motivate her to be cryptic? You. The kids. Your safety.”

She stood up and paced the floor between a couch and the barstools where Adam still sat. “Megan must have found out something she thought put you and the kids in danger.”

“That seems… far-fetched. Why not just tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Alex said and bit the nail of her thumb of one hand, the other pressed against her belly. “Try read the underlined words from the letter.”

“Adam. Emma. Trey. Bekah. Take care of them. Scared.”

She moved back to the barstool excited and laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I remember thinking when I first read them, she was scared because she was leaving you all behind. But what if she was scared about something else?”

“How would they be in danger? Who could possibly want to hurt the kids?” He shook his head. “It seems… ridiculous.” Adam glanced at her hand, looked back at the list, but didn’t shrug away from her touch.

Self-conscious, she removed her hand, flexing it by her side. “Maybe, but Megan wasn’t illogical about things she did. That’s what we have to figure out. We need to figure out what the rest of these words mean and how they relate.”

“They are all looking the same to me.”

“Let me snap a pic of them, and I will try to make some sense of them too.” Alex took out her phone.

“What about these numbers?”

Alex glanced at his finger pointing to a six-digit number on her letter. She paused. “I’m not sure. I thought you might know.” She put her phone away.

Adam sighed and shook his head. He stood and walked back into the kitchen carrying his glass to the sink. “Would you like another drink?”

Watching him move, the slope of his shoulders and the way his shirt stretched across his back, the unbidden flutter vibrating against her nerves, she remembered that night so long ago – the one she was supposed to have forgotten. Emotions: guilt, relief, grief, want overwhelmed her. She stood.

“No. Thank you.” She stood and gathered her things. “I should go. It’s late and I have an eight o’clock class tomorrow morning.” She took the letter and her purse and walked past the kitchen into the hallway.

Adam followed her.

Tears threatened, the burn of them tormenting her earlier peace. She didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Adam. And she knew her tears were for the wrong reason now. The overwhelm wasn’t for Megan - it was about her.

“Slow down. There isn’t a fire,” Adam joked and caught up with her in the foyer. “This has been rather enjoyable.” He turned her around to face him. “I liked…wait. What’s wrong?”

Alex kept her eyes fixed on the dark tiled floor. She didn’t want him to see her crying. She never wanted that. “I just miss her,” Alex said and looked up at Adam. That was the truth. Then she couldn’t help herself and heaped more coal into the fire, “As much as I wished for her life, I want her back.” Tears spilled leaving a trail on her cheeks.

Adam pull her into his embrace, and she collapsed against him. Though he’d hugged her briefly after Megan’s passing, this was different. Then, it had been consolation for news, two people clinging to one another in the high tide of grief, both drowning. This felt like comfort, as though he’d become a sheltering island in the storm while it crashed around them. She should step away, but she didn’t.

“I miss her too,” he said his lips moving against her temple.

“She asked to watch over you and the kids before she died. I failed her.”

“Alex.” His voice was soothing, his hands comforting as they caressed her back.

“Don’t,” she said. “I have.” She tried to compose herself and she took a step away from him the feel of his compassion more welcome than he understood. But he didn’t let her go; his hands still on her shoulders. She looked up at him. “I have stayed away when Megan asked me to help you and the kids through your grief.”

He reached for a tissue on the table in the hall and held it out to her.

She accepted it but didn’t use it, just stared at it as she rubbed the soft paper between the fingers that held it.

“How could you have, Alex? I was so awful and hostile at the funeral. I guaranteed you’d stay away. It took me ten months to apologize. Why would you – should you – have done any differently?”

“I should have. Megan would have.” Alex answered. “She would have known you were hurting.” A fresh wave of tears hit her.

“Please don’t cry, Alex. You were hurting too.”

Adam took her face in his hands and nudged her to look at him. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. She searched his eyes while they darted around her face. Alex saw that look again from earlier, the one she couldn’t name, soften his features.

You don’t remember do you, Adam? She wondered. But she knew the answer to that question. He didn’t.

He leaned in and kissed the place on her cheek where he’d wiped away the tear with his thumb.

Warmth spread from the graze of his lips on her cheek into her body like a wildfire. She stepped away when reason stepped in to remind her who she was. Who he was. She noticed he’d also stepped way, his expression stunned.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t have done that.” His hands were up and at his sides with sincerity.

“Maybe you were right, what you said that day.” She took another step away from him toward the front door. “I’ve spent countless hours analyzing your words, poking holes in your argument,” she said and then looked up. “Even as angry and hurt as I was that you said them.”

She paused with her hand on the door, then turned back to face him. “Thank you for the drink.” She reached into her purse and withdrew the worn envelope. “Here’s Megan’s letter,” Her tone impersonal, business-like. With equal efficiency when he didn’t take it, she set the missive on the table in the entryway. “I’ve got to go.”

“At least let me walk you out?”

She shook her head. “This is far enough. I’m okay, Adam. I’ve always been okay.” She turned. “If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” Then she willed herself to walk away.

Adam watched Alex get swallowed by the night.

He took a couple of steps after her but stopped on the front porch of his house unsure why he was trailing her. He watched her start her car and drive out of the driveway. A bizarre sensation tugged at him, a sense of urgency perplexed by her words: Maybe you were right. It was as though the sea were rolling under his surf board, but he couldn’t find his balance. It was unfamiliar territory with her, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the new emotions colliding within him.

Adam shut the front door, picked up the letter Alex had left, and went back into the kitchen where the light felt inviting and safe. He glanced at the spot she’d occupied while there, and the emptiness of the house suddenly felt cavernous and lonely.

He sat back down at the bar and opened the letter Megan had written to Alex

Alex, my friend, my sister:

I don’t know where to begin, really, how to tell you my heart, but it needs to be done. So, I should start with the blaring truth of the matter. The cancer has returned and my doctor fears I have less than six months. I could ramble on about how angry I am, and I’m sure I will have already done that with you by the time I give you this letter. I’ve already beaten this disease once, and I was willing to come out victorious again – but it isn’t meant to be this time – this time I’m meant to put my responsibilities in order, my ducks in a row, so to speak. Who could I trust more than you, Alex, and Adam to help me?

 Alex, you have been the best of friends. You have been there for me, guided me when I ventured off the path, and counseled me with the truth, even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. What kind of friend you have been to help me see light when sometimes I was enshrouded in darkness? Know that I respect you and respect the choice you made so many years ago when you shared what you did. There was nothing to forgive, and I hope that you know that.

Adam stopped and reread the last paragraph contemplating the meaning behind Megan’s words. But he couldn’t puzzle it out, couldn’t connect the dots. It made him curious. What had she meant? What could Alex have thought that Megan needed to forgive her?

Alex, I don’t know how my family will take the cancer; and my inevitable passing. I’m frightened to think that they won’t be able to move on. Though that sounds vain and presumptuous, I know that if I were to lose Adam, or one of the children, I could imagine myself getting stuck in vicious cycle of denial, anger, self-doubt, and hopelessness. Promise me that you will take care of them .

I know you and Adam haven’t always seen eye to eye. I can appreciate how patient you have been with him. Please continue to be. He is notorious for being hard-headed, but he isn’t hard-hearted. He is a loving, kind, and generous man and though I know you are well aware of that, I know how easy it is to lose patience with his stubborn streak. He is prone to fighting tooth and nail against that which he perceives as a threat, even if he misunderstands, but he will go to battle for those he loves, and Alex, despite your differences, I know that deep down Adam loves you too, just as I do. I don’t presume he will never move on after I’m gone, Alex, but please make sure that he knows I don’t want him to waste his years, that I want him to find love again.

Please watch out for Emma , Trey and Bekah . They all love you, their Aunt Alex, and on days that their terrible mom wouldn’t let them get away with being awful humans, would have gladly called Aunt Alex mom. I laugh thinking about raising them, and I’m very proud at how they have grown, into beautiful souls with so much promise of being wonderful adults.

Emma is just married, and I know that within time will think about starting her own family with Grant. Oh, my heart aches to think that I won’t hold my own grandchildren, but Alex, you can. You will be able to be there for Emma when she experiences the ups and downs of motherhood. Please tell her when she feels as though she’s ready to go insane because she’s lost herself in them that it won’t last – that one day her selfless giving to her children will mold them into their own and she will return stronger and more vibrant than when she began the journey of motherhood. Tell her how much I loved her. How she made me strive to be a better mother, because my inadequacy was always so transparent.

Trey makes my heart feel full. Though I love each of my children, I love them in their own unique ways. Where Emma makes me proud, she humbles me for I see me in her and can remember all of the choices I made that I would change. Whereas Bekah fills me with joy, she reminds me of mortality, for I’m frightened of them leaving me behind. Trey makes me rest in today and acknowledge that today is more important than yesterday or tomorrow. It is written in James, chapter four verse 14, “Why you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” Please tell Trey when the time is right how very much, I loved him. How he changed me to enjoy each day of my life and to keep living purposefully.

Oh, my Bekah, my baby, my joy. I will miss her in ways that are indescribable. I’m saddened that I might not see her graduate from high school next year. What if I won’t see her graduate from college or watch her continued to develop into the strong, independent woman that she is becoming. Alex, I ask that you help Bekah realize how strong she is as a woman, that she wouldn’t defer her dreams to anyone or anything, that she can be exactly who she wants to be - she can have it all if she wants it. That she can be just like her Aunt Alex. I know of no better person to guide Bekah than you, my friend, the epitome of a woman of strength, who knew her mind and followed it. Please tell her how much I will miss watching her grow into the woman I know is there, waiting to bloom.

Alex, I will miss your fellowship. Though we aren’t related by blood, I don’t think that blood would have made you more of a sister to me than you are. I’m so blessed that I have you as a friend. I’m so blessed that I shouldn’t feel scared , because I know that you will take care of my family. And I thank you for your loyalty and devotion – there aren’t many people who would exemplify such dedication. I love you, Alex, for all that you have been in my life and for all that you will continue to be even after I’m gone.

Grief welled up in his chest and flowed into the deep recesses of his heart. He fought to control the emotion that threatened to spill over, and his throat constricted as he held back. He imagined Megan writing those words, having just found out that she had cancer again. Her feeling like she needed to take care of her family and turning to the one person that she knew would. Guilt hammered at him for having pushed Alex away, begrudging her presence in his wife’s life, being angry she was always there.

Emotion stung his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He dropped his face into his hands and leaned against the counter, allowing the tears their time and space. The loss of Megan was still deep and alive, but there was a new rawness scraped over his heart. While he missed his wife, he accepted she wasn’t coming back. He’d spent the last ten months grieving - hell - he’d spent the last year and a half grieving as Megan wasted away in front of him. He’d been left behind to exist as a shadow.

Today though, like seeing the house for what it had become and picking up the clutter, his tears felt cleansing. He was renewed knowing his wife had loved him so deeply; she’d sought the aid of her best friend to keep watch over them like a guardian angel. He felt, for the first time in a year, hope that he might be able to find peace in existing without her.

Adam wiped his face, and folded Alex’s letter, putting it back in the envelope. He imagined her and her face as they’d gone over the words. Her eyes closed and a myriad of expressions traipsing across her face like a parade.

He smiled and picked up her glass and remembered her tears, her words: Maybe you were right.

He frowned.

The moment he’d offered comfort, his lips against her skin, he recognized where his thoughts had gone, and an image of a woman lit by moonlight on a drunken night over thirty years ago. He reached for it, but it was hazy. He remembered being drunk and hadn’t thought much about that night. Alex had made him think of it. Her words: I’ve got to go. The way she’d said them. Something painted his periphery, but she’d walked out. He’d dismissed it watching her leave.

Adam carried Alex’s glass to the sink and set it inside. He looked up at his reflection in the darkness of the window. Before today, he’d been able to disconnect from Alex in his anger. The peace didn’t offer distance. And, like the warmth of their peace treaty, Alex was a newly sprouted seed in his heart.

For more: The Letters She Left Behind ebook & Print available January 14, 2020

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