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“What is it?” he asked.
“I–there are things I want to ask you, things I want to know, but I don't know where to begin.”
“Just begin anywhere. Speak your mind, and we'll go from there.”
Another lengthy silence ensued, until she finally spoke.
“I need explanations. More than those you’ve already given. I still don't understand… I can't reconcile how you went from being so happy and loving, to a place where you questioned everything you knew about me.”
He was grateful for her forthrightness; the sooner they went back to examine the past, the quicker they could move on to the future. And instead of trying to choose the perfect words, he decided to say whatever came to his mind.
“I think part of me was afraid all along that you would give me a reason not to trust you.”
When her eyes widened, he quickly continued.
“I'm not saying it was rational; obviously it wasn't, because my thoughts, my reactions, were so skewed. When I saw those pictures, the first thing I thought was, ‘there you go, Will, there it is. Proof that she's not what she seems.' I couldn't talk myself out of what IthoughtI saw.”
“I can understand that, but only to a point. It was my bed, my house, and it looked like me—what little bit could be seen, anyway.” She looked at him seriously. “But after that, my understanding is…well, it’s nonexistent. You chose to leave, chose to believe the worst about me, and chose not to communicate with me for nearly two weeks. I’m angry about that, and I’m not going to pretend I’m not.”
“I don't want you to. We have to be completely honest with each other.”
“But before you can be honest with me, you have to figure out how to be honest with yourself.Do you think you'll be able to do that?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Um, I’m talking to someone. A therapist. I’ve gone a few times since I went to see you in South Carolina.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh. Okay.”
“One thing I’ve already learned is that I have a tendency to catastrophize. I’m, like, the poster boy for it. I have a habit of assuming the worst, and when I’m in a situation that I perceive to be threatening in some way, or if I feel like something could go wrong, my brain instantly goes from ‘this has the potential of being a problem’ to ‘this is ruining everything.’ When I look back at my behavior, I can see it so clearly. The way I acted the first time I met you, the way I treated Lauren, and my reaction when I saw those pictures at your house… Even the things I thought when I first saw the pictures of Georgie. I just go straight to the worst-case scenario.” He shrugged. “It’s the tip of the iceberg, and I know it’s tied to other things. Trust issues. Things I associate with my father that have been mucked up in my head. I need to dig deeper, and I plan on doing that.”
“I guess…maybe I would understand the way you reacted to those pictures, the way youcatastrophizedthem and thought the worst, if we’d just starting dating and you felt you’d been deceived. But youknewmy history, you knew what it took for me to let you into my heart.” She paused. “What it comes down to—or what I can’t comprehend, I guess—is that you just cut me off. You stayed away, not for a day or two, but for twelve days, until you showed up on my deck. How could you continue to think that way for so long?”
“I was angry. If I’d gone to you, if we’d spoken, I knew I would have made it so much worse. ”
“So it was anger that kept you away. For that long? There must have been something else.”
He nodded. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what? Afraid you were right and I was the conniving, scheming tramp you’d convinced yourself I was?”
He drew back. “Elizabeth—”
“And how did you do a complete 180 fromthat? One day I'm like the plague, something to be avoided, and the next day—ortwelvedays later—you're on my deck, begging me for another chance. Did you suddenly have an epiphany and decide I wasn't the horrible person you thought I’d been for close to two weeks?”
She stood and walked over to the edge of the pond, but instead of following her, he waited. She was still angry, that much was clear, and she had every right to be. Finally she turned to look at him and then slowly walked back and sat down, this time a little further away from him.
“What made you change your mind? What was it that made you see reason after twelve days of being completely and totally hardened toward me?”
He sighed. “My anger started to change. Honestly, it didn't just change, it completely disappeared. I started to feel a–a sense of loss, of grief. And without the anger consuming me, I started to really think things through. And then itwaslike an epiphany. I realized I’d projected everything, all my fears and insecurities and issues, onto you. Without cause. You gave me no cause to feel that way, ever.”
“You're right, I never did. Not once. I was faithful, supportive, loving...and you turned your back on me.” She paused. “Did you ever stop to think about how I was feeling over those twelve days? Did you give me any thought at all?”
“I thought about you all the time.”
“In what way? You left me in the hospital, remember? I had a concussion. Did you wonder how I was feeling, if I was bruised and in pain? Did you wonder if I was sad, heartbroken, angry, scared? Did you wonder if I cried myself to sleep?”
He blanched. “Elizabeth, please—”
“Please what? I know I'm beating the hell out of a dead horse, William, but I have to know. I just…some part of me needs to know before I can move forward.”
