Page 122 of True Blue

And still, some part of me tries to turn it back on myself. I tell myself I should have spoken up more, pushed harder for Teddy to see a therapist, maybe bought a billboard so he could finally see the sign that his mother was relying on him for all her emotional needs. But he wouldn’t have seen anything wrong with that. Not with how far her hooks were in him.

Then the more rational part of my brain reminds me that I was in my final year of residency, studying for boards, paying my bills, working long hours, and trying to get my entire life together to move across the country.

Why the hell was I carrying all of the emotional weight of our relationship? Why was it my responsibility to cater to a thirty-year-old man and his disturbing relationship with his mother? Why was I never the first choice when he was so clearly mine? Why did he put his ex-girlfriend’s feelings and comfort above mine? Why did he never defend me to his family, and why, when he did, did it feel more like an attempt to excuse their behavior than a true defense of me?

I was trying to balance everything and thought I was doing so well until Teddy added the weight of his mother and her emotional needs, and it was tipping the scales.

And it’s not even really about him choosing his family, because that is his family. It’s about him choosing not to set boundaries and letting me be the collateral damage.

Back and forth and back and forth my mind goes until I just feel even more dismal than I did when I started thinking.

My hand pauses over the envelope.

A letter? Another explanation? Another excuse about why he did what he did, why he said those awful things to me, why he allowed me to be treated horribly by his family? I don’t even know if I want to read it because I know it will ruin my day, but I can’t lie and pretend I’m not curious.

Because he seemed… different.

Exhaustion lined every inch of his face yesterday—the shadows under his eyes, the pallor of his skin, the red-rimmed green gaze that made him seem like he hadn’t slept in days. He wasn’t the happy-go-lucky, easygoing, sweet teddy bear of a man I fell in love with. He seemed older, somehow. Resolved, or maybe resigned. I don’t know.

His words were the ones I was dying for months ago. And that might be the most frustrating thing, because he’s said all the pretty words before.

Where you go, I go.

I promise, honey.

I love you.

There was just never balanced action to back them up. Sure, he defended me sometimes, here and there. I would get flashes of the man his Nana raised, the clearest one being when he defended me after his mother gave me gluten.

I took that crumb and made a feast, not realizing I was still starving.

So, is this just more crumbs? More pretty words to lull me into peace before he rips the floor out from under me.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me over and over, and I believe all your words like a naive moron—please commit me to the nearest mental health facility.

I’m not falling for it again.

I won’t.

Even if shivers run up and down my spine at the passion in his words yesterday, and the earnestness of his broken face. He tracked me down in London just to give me Pop’s ring, a ring I know must be precious to him. He could have kept it. I would have never known. He could have given it to Danielle or Stephanie, who actually knew and were loved by Ted Williams.

But he came here. He waited in the lobby for seven hours for me and followed me to the pub. He didn’t just intrude on my time with Petra. He came here just to give me the ring and the letter from Ellie.

Tears sting my eyes now as I think of the letter. I had ordered a bottle of wine to my room last night with my room service, and waited until I had drunk two glasses before I opened the letter.

And I cried and cried and cried.

Indie,

I’m sorry I didn't go to the hospital as you asked. Don’t be too mad at this old woman.

I’m tired, sweetheart. I am so tired, and I miss my Ted so much it feels like my bones ache with it. I think I stayed as long as I did, and fought the cancer so hard, because some part of me knew Teddy still needed me. My girls have always been stronger than they think, but my Teddy… he has the softest heart of them all. Always did. And that’s a good thing and a bad thing.

Bad because it’s easy to mold into something wrong, and his mother has perfected that over the years.

But it’s also good because he’s sensitive, he’s caring, well, you love him. I think that’s the best thing.