If you truly love me Ch. 03: Holly

I turned my head this way and that, studying the up-do the stylist, who had not long left, had done for me. I would have preferred to wear it down as David had always loved it when I wore it loose, its natural waves untouched by a straightening iron but this was a wedding, our daughter's wedding, and an up-do was probably more appropriate. All things considered; the stylist had done a good job. The style was soft and flattering and with my hair up you could see the pearl drop earrings I was wearing - a gift from David on my thirtieth birthday. I hoped he'd remember them.

And remember how we'd celebrated that landmark birthday. I certainly did.

*****

MY HEART SWELLED with pride when Caitlyn walked by me on David's arm on the way to her husband-to-be who waited with a huge smile on his face and, if I wasn't mistaken, a tear in his eye. Between seeing her look so happy and beautiful and David so proud and handsome I forgot for a moment that I wasn't seated in the first row but, then again, the family were taking up three rows, me being in the third, so at least she hadn't relegated me to the back of the gathering.

I remained hopeful that this wedding would help me heal old wounds and build new bridges. Weddings were good for that sort of thing.

I remembered David's and my wedding. We'd been so young. So in love. I'd only been eighteen, David, twenty-one. But we'd known what we wanted.

I couldn't believe Caitlyn had managed to convince her father to wear a kilt in the MacPherson colours. It was a beautiful tartan; white, violet, purple and black. The men had teamed their kilts with white shirts, black vests, and tuxedo jackets. David could have passed for a local with his fair locks and rosy from the cool afternoon breeze cheeks. He looked so distinguished. My heart thudded in my chest. It took all I had to remain in place and not throw myself at him.

Caitlyn's bouquet, and, indeed, the flowers used to decorate the rotunda matched the MacPherson colours. It all looked like something out of a fairy tale. By the time Drew got to kiss his beautiful bride the sun had almost set. The sky was a dramatic mix of darkening fluffy clouds with golden halos about their edges against a backdrop of violets and reds. The tiny fairy lights strewn among the flowers enhanced the atmosphere of being part of something magical.

I dabbed the corner of my eyes, fearful of ruining my make-up. My little girl was a married woman. They walked by me, husband and wife, and though Caitlyn smiled at me, she didn't pause to have a few words as she'd done with the rest of my family. I ignored my hurt, determined to rise above the small slights. I had to show her I was better than that.

When, moments later, David walked by me with a woman on his arm, a beautiful woman, I wished I hadn't seen him. The woman was as different to me as Drew was to Caitlyn. She looked like a gypsy with her lustrous black curls and red lips. She was dressed stylishly but even with her conservative hemline she exuded sensuality.

My mouth went dry, and try as I might, I couldn't swallow. I gasped, my lungs noisily emptying of air, making me feel weak and light-headed. My heart stopped for a moment before taking off like a racehorse at the start gate. I feared it would explode out of my chest.

A wave of nausea forced me back into my seat, wishing I could drag my eyes away from him. They were together. It was obvious. She looked up at him with adoring eyes, her hand possessively linked with his. I could tolerate her looking at him with adoration but what cut me to the core was seeing him smile down at her with love. Yes. Love. I knew that look. It used to be the way he looked at me.

I didn't recognize, at first, the feelings that overwhelmed me. All I knew was that I didn't like them. They made me feel weak and sick.

I didn't like the vile, bitter taste in my mouth.

I didn't like the heat that pulsed through my body.

It was not the pleasurable heat of passion, nor even the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment. This heat didn't warm and awaken; it burned and scorched, leaving devastation in its wake. It was like a forest fire erasing everything in its path.

Jealousy. Ugly jealousy.

No. No. No. This couldn't be happening. I'd waited so long for this chance to win him back.

Neither looked at me. Not even so much as a glance. It was as if I was invisible.

I watched their retreating backs, trying desperately not to cry or scream. I longed to throw decorum to the winds and run after him and throw myself at his feet and beg him to take me back. To give me another chance. Had my body obeyed me, I might have done just that.

Guests filed past me. One or two looked at me with pity. Others averted their gaze, some to save me embarrassment, some to avoid awkwardness.

My mother paused, looking at me with compassion, and squeezed my shoulder, before leaning down to whisper in my ear, "Let him go with dignity. Do not shame yourself. Not today. This is Caitlyn's day."

I nodded, unable to trust my voice.

I was the last to leave the rotunda.

*****

THAT CAITLYN HAD seated me at a table with the extended family rather than at her table no longer bothered me. At least, by being seated at one of the lesser tables I was able to go under the radar somewhat. At the head table I would have been on display.

I ate and drank on automatic pilot. I was numb.

At least, until David rose to give his speech.

Then I was skewered to my seat. The speech, I felt certain, was written as much for me as for Caitlyn and Drew.

"When I sat down to write a speech for today my thoughts drifted to the cliché for marriage; 'tying the knot,'" he began, smiling out at the audience.

"I'm no writer, as both my daughter and my business partner can attest to, so I won't go into detail as to how the word knot led me to the word rope."

"Because you're a kinky bastard," Ben called out to much laughter.

David laughed as well, nodding his head. "Maybe, old friend, but it occurred to me a length of rope has a few good uses other than naughty ones. In fact, it's an excellent analogy for love, relationships, and marriage.

"A rope is made up of strands, each strong in its own right, but if you were to ask a rope maker he - or she, to be politically correct and I'd best be that or Caitlyn will shoot me later - would tell you a three-cord rope is the strongest rope you can make.

"Why?

"Because, though each strand is distinct, they all touch each other.

"So, Caitlyn and Drew, if I were to liken each of you to being a strand in the rope symbolising your relationship, I would tell you that though each of you is an individual; strong, intelligent, and capable in your own right, together, entwined with the third strand—that being love—your strength is not merely added, its multiplied.

"There are many important things that make up a happy and successful marriage but from what I've observed three stand out, three that make up the rope of marriage because from them stem most of the others. Trust. Respect. And loyalty."

At each of those words; trust, respect, and loyalty, I flinched, certain David intended them for me. I stared steadfastly straight ahead, not wanting to have my suspicions confirmed by every eye in the room being on me.

"Your trust in each other must be absolute. It's black and white; there is no grey. You can't 'sort of' trust someone. Knowing that your partner has your back in all things is essential."

I took a hefty sip of my wine, trying to wash away the guilt David's words created in me.

"So, too, is respect. Respecting your partner means being aware at all times, and in all ways, the effect your actions and decisions will have on them, and truly believing their rights, beliefs, and opinions are as important as your own."

I bit my lip to hold back the cry of pain filling my throat. I'd failed to respect David, the same as I'd failed the trust test - I hadn't been trustworthy and I hadn't had David's back.

"And then there is loyalty. Had you asked me to write this speech in my youth, I would almost certainly have substituted the word love for that of loyalty, and, yes, love is important, it's absolutely vital, but with the wisdom that comes with age, I've come to understand how important having your spouse's loyalty is."

This time I failed. I whimpered aloud. People at my table turned to look at me. In all of the three elements that David considered vital for a happy, strong marriage, I'd failed.

"Caity, sweetheart, and Drew, my new son, there will be times in your marriage when you won't agree with each other, but I urge you to save your disagreements for when you're alone. To the world show a united front. Don't let anything or anyone see the slightest gap in your rope where they could drive a wedge."

That's what I'd done. I'd shown Sophie a vulnerability in the rope of my relationship with David. A vulnerability she'd taken full advantage of and I'd been too weak and obssessed to fix from within. David had tried and I'd sabotaged him. I'd invited the enemy in.

"I'm not normally the type of guy to quote the bible, but I think in this instance, Ecclesiastes 4:12 got it right. 'Though one may be overpowered, and two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.'

"So, I guess, that's my advice to you. Love is both the strongest and most fragile of emotions, so make sure to always look after each strand in your relationship and marriage rope because each is essential, and remember that though you are strong apart and can survive most things, together you're something special. Together you're something beautiful, and lasting, and true."

Hope died. It had died that little bit more with each word of David's speech, like a tree shedding its leaves one by one until I realised there were no leaves left. No hope left. Nothing remained. No love. No hope. No GLBT Publishing. And most of all; no David.

Everyone clapped. Caitlyn leaped out of her seat, throwing her arms around her father, tears unashamedly running down her cheeks. Drew stood, shaking David's hand while David continued to hug our daughter with his other arm. I looked at the gyspy woman whose name I didn't even know. She was crying but I saw the pride and happiness in hers. I saw the love.

Tears ran down my cheeks too. Tears of loss. Of loneliness. Tears of grief for a love I destroyed by my own actions. A love, the like of which I would never know again.

I looked around the room. It seemed to me to be a sepia print. Where was the colour? The light? Gone.

Just like my hopes. Just like David's love.

*****

EPILOGUE

IT WAS DIM, but not dark, as I sat by the window watching the sun lose its battle with the horizon. All was quiet except for the muted sounds of the cicadas, and even their song was finally winding down for the evening.

I could have turned on my television, but chose not to. There was nothing I wanted to watch. Same with the new release sitting on my bedside table. I couldn't muster even a shred of interest in commencing the first chapter.

Today was an anniversary of sorts. It robbed me of energy and so I just sat and watched the world go by from my bedroom window.

I guess I should have enjoyed the stunning slideshow nature was creating before my eyes. In a vague way, I did see its magical beauty. I certainly recognized what a stunning photograph it would make. The lens would love the way the oranges and reds slowly deepened to violets and purples, casting a soft golden glow over the landscape while deepening the shadows cast by the tall gums, but it was as if I was seeing it through a series of filters. So many filters, that by the time the image reached me, all meaning was lost.

I felt guilt at my detachment from the picturesque display Mother Nature was offering me. I should have enjoyed it more. I should have wanted to tilt my face to the heavens to experience the dying rays of the sun warming my cheeks. Instead, I saw, but did not see.

Sounds from the rooms beyond my bedroom seeped through the walls. It seemed Don had misplaced the remote again. I listened to him speak, I couldn't hear his actual words, only that the tone of his voice sounded gruff with annoyance. Don forgot a lot things—reading glasses, people's names, even the remainder of his sentences when he was halfway through them.

Ironically, I envied him his absentmindedness, his forgetfulness. Forgetting was not a problem I suffered from. No, I remembered all too well.

Long ago I'd come to the realisation that painful memories were persistent. The agony of them stayed with you as if shackled to your psyche. They didn't fade with time like sweet, happy memories which seemed to assume a hazy, rosy glow in your mind, almost as if they've been photoshopped with umpteen filters applied. No, painful memories remained sharp and clear. Time doesn't mute their colours, nor blur their edges. Their colours remained stark and bold; a palette of vibrant primary reds, blues, and yellows. Their edges stay defined and as sharp as a razor blade. Years later those memories still had the ability to cut you as deeply, make you bleed as profusely, as the day they were formed.

I could attest to that. I was living proof of that. The letter lying on my lap was proof. The words were as familiar to me as the nursery rhymes of childhood.

Dear Holly,

It saddens me to read that you haven't moved on from our divorce. We had twenty-six good years, if you include our courtship, and we brought a wonderful daughter into the world. Both of those statistics we can be proud of.

It has taken me a considerable amount of time to heal from our split. There were times I wondered if I ever would. I cannot deny you wounded me deeply but time truly is the great healer.

I wish you no ill, Holly. There was a time, early in our separation when I did, but, once again, time came to my rescue and dimmed the need for revenge. I'm glad of that. I don't think I could have faced Caitlyn, or lived with myself, if I'd so gone against my character and acted on the vengeful thoughts.

We can't undo what's been done and what you did with Sophie broke something inside me that isn't fixable. Holly, I'm sorry, but there's no going back. It's time to let go. Please move on. For your sake, and for the sake of Caitlyn and the rest of your family. Your continuing to cling to a hope that we can somehow salvage what we had, or start afresh, has caused a strain on everyone.

Please, let go, move on, learn from our mistakes and find love again.

I have yet to reach a point where I can be a friend to you. That's a work in progress, but I give you my word I am not your enemy.

Sincerely,

David

David. Ever the gentleman. I still missed him.

I was saved from my reverie by the mundane.

"Holly this is Nurse Sally. Sally, this is Holly Walters. Holly is our oldest resident and has been with us for quite a while, haven't you, dear?"

I didn't reply. Why bother. It was just another new nurse.

"Come on, Holly. Dinner's ready. Let's take you to the dining room."

THE END