February Sucks - Gone Girl

I called Linda when I got home. We arranged for the kids and I to come to her parents' condo. When Linda and I were married, her mom and dad lived almost three hours away. When Linda disappeared, they leased a small condo to be closer to the kids, and I, suppose, me. I was glad we didn't have that long drive, as the kids would want to see their mom often.

...Or so I thought. After picking up the kids, Jane came over with her two, as support to me with all their questions. At 10 and 8 they'd have even more on their mind. More to ask. More to contemplate. Ellen strategically kept Meagan away and went to a movie. She would tell her daughter. That bothered me, to think Linda was already dividing us up, without really trying. But that too had been all Ellen.

Emma and Tommy seemed bewildered when I first spoke. I actually thought to repeat myself when Jane waved me off. Had they been so well 'fixed' they had forgotten her? For a moment I was horrified. That didn't take long as Jane wisely started fielding questions. The kids did remember. They cried. I couldn't tell if they were tears of joy or sadness. In that moment, I realized that I wasn't as 'put together' as I believed. The old stuff was milling about, just below the surface. Was I really just a broken man putting on a great sales presentation? Probably.

I held the kids, as did Jane. We talked more than I thought would benefit two children their age. Finally, we told them we were going to see their mother tomorrow afternoon, and put them down for the night. Jane brought me a beer and herself a glass of wine. We sat in silent reflection for nearly ten minutes.

"Jane, thank you for your help tonight. If I haven't said, you're a really great friend and I hope some day I can repay all you've done."

Jane sat there, somewhere else in her mind. She did say, "Thank you." I told her I was too spent to really discuss anything else today, but asked if she'd be available after I spoke with Linda tomorrow. I was relieved she told me 'yes'.

Work was...distracting. I had no idea what I would say, or wanted to say to Linda. Her mother had asked for me to cool it on my major issues for a while. What was left? "Welcome home dear"? I decided to try and listen. At least I'd discover her feelings about what she'd done to me and to her family. One thing I did know: if she was going to play the victim to the 100% level, and expect sympathy it would be a short conversation. But I fretted about where that would leave us. It would be so easy to simply say that I'd moved on, we'd all moved on, sorry about that, c'est la vie.

Tommy seemed less tentative than Emma. Linda and her parents noticed. When Linda went to hug me at the door and I side stepped her, she looked confused, hurt and somewhat angry. I needed to be true to me. And Ellen, I supposed. We ate dinner. As the kids warmed up to their mother, they asked all kinds of questions, the answers to which would be better suited for grownups. Linda herself seemed quite different to me. In fact, I was probably being rude, but I couldn't stop staring. She had definitely lost weight. Her face had also aged. Not surprising considering her situation. But her smile told me there was a new Linda inside that once naïve head of hers.

After the excitement died down, Linda asked if we could go talk somewhere. I figured out to coffee or something, but after I nodded, she headed for the backyard, and her parents large deck.

Linda

Nothing could have prepared me for my homecoming. Nothing. The minute I'd finished hugging my parents at the airport, I'd turned looking around in confusion. "Where's Jim and the kids?" I'd asked.

"They're at home, honey. Let's get your bag and get you to the car. A lot has happened, and, well, we need to talk." With that one sentence from my mother's lips, my world had collapsed again.

I hadn't even been listening all that well, as Mom had ranted on the drive. When I realized Dad was in their neighborhood, I'd screamed, "Where are we going? I need to go home."

"We are going home, dear. Haven't you been listening?" Mom had said.

I'd started listening then. It seemed the entire world had been turned upside down in my absence. Everything had changed. My husband was no longer mine. My best friend had moved in with Jim to help with the kids, and now they'd become, what? Best friends? Jim had gotten engaged to some woman.

I had been sitting there, my parents' living room for nearly four hours. They had kept their answers short, treating me as a child. They'd been spoon feeding me answers, almost seeming to be afraid I'd fall apart any minute.

"Why did he leave me?" I'd finally asked.

"Oh, he didn't leave you sweetheart." Mom had answered me.

"Didn't leave me? Well then where the hell is he right now? He's with my children, and that, woman." I'd cried out.

I remember, I'd lain in that room, thinking through all the things my parents had told me. All the people who'd abandoned me. Written me off, and turned their backs on me. I'd pondered all that as I'd tried to sleep in my childhood bed.

The morning had been no better. My own parents, I'd realized, had also moved on with their lives, and they were stuck in an impossible situation. A daughter they'd never expected to see again, and a family - my old family - they'd needed to protect. I'd had to get out for a while. Jane had answered my call on the first ring, and when I'd suggested going for a coffee, she'd come straight over to get me.

Jane had been very emotional, after hearing my recounting of the past two years. We'd cried over our coffee for nearly an hour, but I had plenty I'd needed to hear from her too.

"What the hell is going on, Jane? Please, I just need someone to shoot straight with me. I feel...so lost, like I've lost everything I've ever had. Mom seems to not know how to answer my questions."

Jane had seemed to have rehearsed her measured response. "Jim, he, thought you'd left with Joe, I mean Daryl. Later, when we discovered Joe's real identity, and that the two of you had gone to high school together, we both felt tricked. I mean, Jim was a mess. He'd been betrayed by all of us, and then, he thought, by his own wife, twice."

"Betrayed!?" I'd asked incredulously. "I'm the victim here, Jane. I'm the goddamned victim!"

Jane had tried continuously to explain as we drove back. I'd hollered for her to stop as we passed Emma and Tommy's school. It was recess; and I sat in the car watching my children. They'd been hardly recognizable after two years, but I'd picked them out. Motherly instinct, I'd supposed. Jane had held me, both of us gently rocking in her front seat for a long time. I'd wept, in utter despair, understanding for the first time what I'd lost.

Jane had tried to explain Jim's rationale. Had tried to explain this Ellen, too. She'd tried to tell me about Dee and Dave, and their impending divorce, but I'd had too many of my own problems to care then. I'd spent the rest of that afternoon watching video clips of my happy family from last Christmas. Watching my husband swooning over my replacement.

Later that night had come more heartache. My own children hadn't recognized me at first. Tommy, being the eldest, had come around, warming up to his stricken mother, while Emma had just sat uneasily through the meal. I'd forced a smile throughout the ordeal, feeling helpless with my own family in the room. Finally, first Tommy, then Emma, had begun making conversation, asking me questions that I couldn't give answers to. So I'd lied about my time away. Jim, for his part, just kept had staring at me.

I'd asked Jim to talk somewhere. I think he'd thought I'd been asking him to leave, so we could go some place private, but I'd stepped out onto my parents' back deck. Once we'd been out of sight of the others, I'd turned to face my now ex-husband and slapped him as hard as I could. I'd temporarily lost my mind in anger and hopelessness. The look on Jim's face had brought me back to reality.

"How could you?" I'd cried out. "Just drop me like a hot potato."

He'd gone straight into attack mode. "You mean like you dropped my hand to dance with Marc The Asshole LaValliere?" He'd looked like a wild man, and I had been suddenly scared.

"What?" I'd backed away, confused. "It wasn't..."

"Bulllshit!" he'd interrupted. "Yeah it was Joe or Daryl or whoever the fuck, but to me it was Marc remember?"

I'd just stood there frozen.

He'd calmed himself a bit after that, "Linda, listen to me. I waited a year. A whole god dammed year. Everything pointed to you leaving me for that asshole. It took almost the entire year to get my head on straight, while having to be both the mother and father to our kids."

I'd heard the bitterness in his voice. All I could think was, 'What the hell is wrong with everyone?". I was the victim.

"Oh, I see. I didn't escape soon enough for you." I'd answered, my reply dripping sarcasm.

"Jesus, Linda. Who are you and what happened to my wife, the woman I married and thought I knew? Let me try to break this down. I was told you would spend the night - and the morning - I guess with that asshole LaValliere. Instead you spend two years away with some other asshole. I was led out of our house like a criminal, in front of your asshole friends and our neighbors. All the while my kids are sleeping in their beds worried about their mother. I've been humiliated and destroyed, repeatedly, by the one person I always trusted to protect me."

"He raped me!" I'd screamed loudly.

In reply, Jim had shushed me. "Quiet, the kids will hear." But then, his face had softened. "Fine, okay, you were a victim too. For you, a lot of circumstances made you an unintended victim, while I, my dear wife, was the absolute intended victim. Maybe you received instant karma for your actions against me, but I got instant pain and destruction. Save all the sympathy for family and those fucked up friends of yours.

"I'M THE DAMNED VICTIM HERE!" He'd screamed that last part in anguish.

It had been a struggle to regain my composure. Jim, hadn't ever talked to me like that, or ever looked so offended and hurt. I'm sure my face had shown the same emotions. "So where does that leave us?" I asked at a whisper.

"Hell if I know." Jim had spat.

"Jim, I'm going to therapy, to help me with my...ordeal. I'm wondering if you can go with me. It might open the door to...better communication between us. Maybe even help us find and agree on a marriage counselor?"

Jim's look now showed amazement. "Hold on Linda. I've already been to therapy. So have the kids." He didn't refer to them as 'ours'.

"Yeah, and I noticed you were fucking you..." I had caught myself before saying something I'd likely regret. I'd kept myself from pointing out he'd moved her into my home as well.

"Linda, obviously we have plenty to discuss and emotions are high right now. Why don't we take a few days to think about tonight and then get together again, in private?"

It had been all too much, and I'd started crying. In desperation, I added, "I don't want to wait for something. I've been waiting for two long years to get back to my family. I want to start putting our family back together. Please, Jim, give me a chance."

Jim had seemed to mellow even more after that. I'd have sworn that, I almost saw that big heart of his , right there in his eyes. He'd agreed about counseling. Even asked me to find three and text them to him. I'd had to put my number in his phone, which had caused even more crying.

The following few days moved quickly and I'd slept better, knowing things were moving forward. Jane and I had a standing time for coffee each morning. Jim had let me pick up the kids from school two days later. That had been difficult, listening to them talk about their family. A family that didn't include me. They'd also slipped and let it be known they'd gone with their father to Ellen's new apartment the evening before. That had hurt; Jim seemingly pretended to want to work on us, but that hadn't stopped him from going back to her.

I'd started going to a female grief therapist on day three. She'd given me the contact info for three couples' therapists. Jane had been spoon-feeding me little bits of info at first, until the fourth day.

"Linda, this is going to tough on you, probably the hardest thing, other than escaping that island. Believe me, I know you love Jim, and I can tell you, he still has feelings for you. Ellen, she...well she's the one who pushed Jim to resolve things with you. Jim loves her, Linda. I know that hurts. What you did to Jim hurt him terribly too. You're going to have to acknowledge the hurt both of you are going through, if there's any chance of getting him back."

I'd felt a little put off by her comments. "And, Jane, which is your preference, huh? Ellen or me, for Jim?"

I remembered Jane's pitiful scowl. I'd lashed out, at my one true friend as it turned out. Jane had always been there for me, and it seemed Jim to. She didn't deserve that. "I don't think there are any good choices for either of you. Nothing short of undoing the past can fix where you both are. For me, and everyone else that are close to you and Jim, I think we all just want to see things work out as well as possible. You have to know, we'll all be here for you Linda, just like we were for Jim these past two years." I'd noticed she didn't exactly answer my question.

That night, I had called Jim and we'd picked a therapist to schedule. Then Jim had said he wanted us to meet alone first, so he could tell me how he'd felt that night and the days and weeks after. We'd fought about that, because I could see too many ways for a conversation like that to go wrong.

"Jim, I understand what you're saying, but think about the night at my folks house. So much has happened I don't think we can afford to say things we can't take back. I want this to work, honey. We need to have a mediator in the room in case emotions are flying high."

The first counselor hadn't worked out. She'd been so one-sided in my favor, even I'd felt bad for Jim. Our second choice was far better. A few solo sessions followed our first meeting, and then we'd finally begun. I'd already been to my private therapist several times and explained about my time on the island, even writing it out at her insistence.

Dr. Boyle had started the session a bit differently. "Jim, We've all talked together and in private. I'd like to start today by reading something Linda has written in her private therapy, if you're okay with it. It's Linda's account of the last days of her ordeal. I think it could be monumental for our work, if you hear it from Linda's point of view, but I don't want to put her through talking it out again. May I?"

Jim had swallowed hard and nodded in the affirmative. I'd already read and re-read the journal pages to ensure they wouldn't set us back. I'd leaned back in the chair, braced myself and let Dr. Boyle say what I never wanted to say again.

"'Then one day, Daryl got careless.'" He'd begun. "'He didn't snap the lock shut on my ankle brace. Had he remembered, I doubt I would have gotten away. My feeble attempt at digging into the floor was not going well.'"

"'It was funny, I realized. I'd known about Stockholm Syndrome and had been careful to avoid it. This was something else. It was almost as if I didn't trust that he'd made a mistake. I sat on that floor, staring at the lock I'd just removed from the shackle, lost in thought. Was this a test? Maybe it was the excuse he created for himself to finally end me. I can remember thinking in that moment just how fragile a thing trust was. Slowly and quietly I removed the restraint from my leg and stood. I grabbed the skillet and the butter knife. Tip-toeing outside, I found him with his back to me in the shed. Probably, he'd been getting ready to fuel the four- wheeler.'"

"'This was my chance, and I was desperate to take it. He may have felt my presence before he heard it, but his turning to see me actually worked to my advantage. The skillet struck him on the side of the face right above his right temple, dazing him as he fell back. In my mind, having played this out so many times, I'd pictured his skull cracking, or his head splitting, with him falling down dead instantly. That wasn't what happened. His knees buckled as he screamed out. His hands instinctively went to hold his head, as his kneeling transitioned to lying down in the sand.'"

"'I was on him quickly. His last mistake was grabbing my left wrist with me on top of him, because my right hand drove the butter knife into his ear. I pushed as hard as I could, and didn't stop until I saw blood gushing out of the opposite ear. His adrenaline must have kicked in. He moved, reaching up to grab or push my face. Suddenly I felt an unbelievably intense pain in my groin area. I knew he'd kneed me hard. It almost caused me to pass out. Next I knew I was lying beside Daryl. His head turned, or maybe fell that way, and our eyes met as he exhaled his last breath.'"

"'I laid there for a long time. First, assessing my injuries, then trying to wrap myself around the fact that I'd succeeded in attaining my freedom. Daryl's dead eyes were still looking at me. He was no longer a threat. I'd killed another human, to eliminate that threat, although the person I'd just killed would have been the first to remind that I'd actually helped kill before. Everything and anything came gushing at me, and, overwhelmed I laid there in the fetal position, bawling and sobbing.'"

"'Figuring out how to put gasoline in an unfamiliar machine was unexpectedly harder than I could imagine. I'd never even used a lawnmower, I thought as I searched in vain for the gas tank. My total life experience on an all-terrain vehicle was one hour, on a rental in Pismo Beach California, many years back. For hours, in a panic, I searched the vehicle. I'm ashamed to say I examined several openings that would never be a fuel reservoir. Finally, it dawned on me that any opening would have to be accompanied by a tank of some kind. Seeing nothing new, I found a latch behind the seat, presumably to lift it, and hoped I might find some directions there. Imagine my surprise. The cap centered, under that seat, had the word GAS stamped into it. Karma may never leave me be, but right at that moment, it was having the time of its life.'"

"'I spilled a lot due to my uncontrollable shaking. I wondered if the hot sun would cause me to combust on the beach. So I went into the bungalow and grabbed a few towels, thoroughly wiping down the ATV.

"'What I did next will perplex me for the rest of my life. I went into my room and rummaged through all the clothes Daryl had gotten me, and some that I'd made myself by hand, like I used to do in my youth. There weren't many. The blue dress was long gone, or I may have worn it. I settled on a pair of khaki shorts that fit me pretty well, and a white T-shirt. The shirt was fairly wrinkled so I splashed it with some water, knowing the hot sunshine would help straighten it. In the bathroom, I used the dingy old mirror to assess my condition. A long shower washed the blood away; my sins, well, I could pretend. I did my hair the best I could with a shabby old brush. Daryl had never brought me any kind of make-up. I studied the woman in the mirror. I was not going to be the victim. It wouldn't be permitted although I knew deep down I was one.'"

"'I turned the key and it started right up. With only 2 bottles of water, I drove straight away, leaving that dead bastard face up in the sand, seagulls already circling.'"

Jim had cried during the reading, and I'd remembered being very touched by that. Somewhere, deep beneath all of his anguish and his loss, he still had some feelings for me. There's still a chance, I'd thought as we left the office.