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Jack squeezed his eyes shut noticing the burst of colors the tighter he squeezed. “No, Amelie. I’m not ever coming back.”
She did a double take. “Like, ever? You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
She patted his thigh. “I know you’re angry with me, Jack. And I am sorry.”
When he didn’t respond, she let it go. As they drove on, each mile seemed to pull them further apart. Finally, she pulled the car up to the curb at the airport, and she turned and smiled at him. Of course, leave it to Amelie to try to make the best of things, he thought.
“I was thinking about coming home next Christmas. We could go somewhere then.”
Jack reached for the door handle and pushed himself forward. “I don’t think so. Actually, I think… it’s probably best if we leave things as they are, you know.”
Amelie let out an audible gasp. She swallowed. “If you say so.”
He opened the door and refused to let himself look back.
TWELVE
When Jack returned to school, he threw himself into work and women, which as it turns out may not have been the best plan he ever had. One night after a particularly disastrous binge on a girl from his economics class, he woke up, climbed out of bed and poured himself a drink. He wasn’t much of a drinker. However, on this occasion, he allowed himself just one to dull the pain. His life was a mess, he told himself. From the outside looking in, Jack was successful. From afar, all probably appeared as it always did. He was neat, tidy, in control. He was on top of his game. But on the inside, Jack was one step away from crumbling. Leaving the south of France early seemed like a good idea at the time, but the further he got from that day, the more he regretted not staying. Three weeks had passed, and here he was, no more or less miserable than the day he’d left. That was the thing about Amelie—three days spent with her would always be better than none. Jack downed his drink and decided he needed to see her. He remembered the photo albums he had tucked away and figured if a photograph was all he could manage, then so be it. He went to his closet and pulled out the album she’d given him for Christmas in San Francisco. Jack paused when he noticed the second album there, and maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the loneliness, but he pulled it down, too. He ran his hand along the edges, opened to the first letter, and began reading.
Dearest Jack,
I asked your father to give you these letters. They’re numbered in the order I thought might make the most sense. I’m going to trust that you’ll find the right one at the right time. Which brings me to this one… I’m guessing you’re reading this sometime just after my funeral. I can’t tell you, baby, how strange it feels to type those words—but here we are, nonetheless. I know this is hard, Jack. I know you miss me, and with the rush of everything going on around you, the fact that I am really gone may not even seem real to you yet. I want you to know that I miss you, too, baby. I miss you so much. I’d like to think that you can still feel me there with you. It makes me happy to think that I can still comfort you somehow.
If I am wrong, and this does feel real, then I want to ask that you sit with that, Jack. I’m sure there are so many emotions that you’re feeling right now—too many for a nine year old boy to understand. But you are smart, Jack. You have always been smart, and I know that you will figure this out. Please don’t be angry, my love. Try to remember the good. Always remember the good. Though it may not seem that way now, we were so privileged to have had the time we did. It would never have been enough, no matter what… so it’s important that you find the good in what you have. That’s a lesson I want you to remember all your life.
I want to ask a favor of you, sweetheart. I want to ask that you please be kind to your father. I know he isn’t easy to live with. But I also know that he loves you very much. He’s lost in his own grief, and though it isn’t an excuse for his behavior, there will come a day when I think you’ll understand. And while that day will probably be a long time from now—the time will come when you’ll love someone so much it’ll make you question everything you thought to be true. It’ll make you act in ways you couldn’t have imagined, before. That’s what love and grief do, you see. They are the extremes in this life. But they are also what really matter. Sit with that, son. Sit with the pain. Don’t numb it out. Feel the feelings you need to feel, even if it takes time you don’t want to take. The most important lessons you’ll ever learn in this life are acceptance and forgiveness. It’s love that teaches us those lessons, son. And with that, I want to ask that you forgive me, Jack. Forgive me for leaving. Forgive me for asking of you the things I’ve asked. I realize this was a lot to put on you. It was a lot to expect. I know this, and I just want to tell you how sorry I am.
Forgive your father, too, son. See the good in him, even when it seems hard to find. The truth about your dad is that he’s not as strong as he appears from the outside. Lots of us are that way. Some of us are simply better at masking it than others.
I love you, Jack. And I’m still here when you need me. It may not feel like it right this second, but I’m here, in these letters, offering you the only thing I have left. And that is love. And above all else, it’s acceptance. The truth about acceptance though, my love, is that you can not offer it to another if you haven’t found it within yourself, and that is why I lied to your father about the medicine. It’s why I asked you to do the same. I needed to accept that my death was inevitable just as much as I needed to help you accept it.
Feel the weight of it, Jack, and then when you’re ready, release it. The things you need will always have a way of finding you, love. You just have to trust that it will be so.
I Love you always,
Mom
Jack closed the album, laid his head down on the desk, and cried himself to sleep.
Three weeks later, Jack was rounding the corner headed toward the business center when something familiar caught his eye. He walked cl
oser, squinting as though maybe his eyes were deceiving him. Standing several feet away, smiling at him, was none other than Amelie.
Jack ran to her. “What in the world are you doing here?”
She toyed with her t-shirt nervously. “We didn’t get a proper goodbye. And… I guess I just realized I was finished not getting proper goodbyes.”
He frowned, and then hugged her so tight she coughed. Damn it. As angry as he’d been, Jack never once considered how she might have felt when he left the way he had. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Jack whispered over and over.
She pulled away slowly and searched his eyes. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
He reached for her hand and led her to his car. His mother had been right. What you need always has a way of finding you.
Jack tried to make up for lost time, he was so happy to see her that he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Each time he attempted to make any headway, Amelie succeeded in brushing him off. She seemed distracted, off. He reached over again and pulled her toward him. She pulled away, her face draining of any color. “I’m pregnant,” she said flatly.
Jack froze. His mouth went dry.
