Two Halves or a Whole?

"Where did you get off to, young man?" she said, breezing past him while he watched a football game on the television.

"I saw Jenny Ortega for lunch."

Pete's mother stopped short. In his handful of visits home he'd never seen any of his old friends. "Oh? And how is Jenny?"

"She looks great. Sounds like work is going well. She said she and Mutt are still dating."

Another surprise. Pete had pointedly avoided talking about any of his old friends since he left for New York. She tried to keep her voice level. "I didn't think they ever admitted that. Did she mention anyone else?"

And there it was. Pete knew exactly what his mother meant, and she knew that he knew, but she wasn't going to ask directly. He could have deflected with a simple "No," but, one, she was his mother, and two, he didn't lie unless there was no recourse.

"She said Gwyn has changed a lot. She thought I should talk to her."

Pete's mom fought to keep control of her emotions. She was a Midwesterner of northern European stock, so she'd had a lot of practice. But her heart was still hammering away.

"What did you say?"

"I don't really want to talk to her."

"But?"

"But what?"

"Peter. I'm your mother. I know when you're not saying something."

He sighed heavily. "I don't know, Mom. Mack thinks I should talk to her too. I just don't think I can."

"Pete Patterson, you're a strong man. And a good man. Your father and I are very proud of you. You have always done the right thing, the thing that needed to be done. No matter what. I'm sure you'll do that here too."

"What if it kills me?"

"Don't be dramatic. If you think about it you'll know exactly what to do."

Crap. He knew the family code for that. "Where's Dad?"

"I think he's out back." His mother patted Pete on the forearm, then squeezed it. He smiled, because he knew the pat was Mom code for affection and the squeeze for encouragement.

Pete went through the patio door, and sure enough he saw the door to the shed open and his dad bent over the lawn mower tinkering with it.

"You know you can't fiddle with that thing forever. Eventually you'll have to mow the lawn."

Pete's dad turned his head with a smile. "I keep waiting for a son who really loves his parents to do it."

"I think Luke's busy. What seems to be the problem?"

"I think the fuel filter is on its last legs."

"Just like someone else around here," Pete said, smiling.

His dad barked a laugh, and Pete smiled at that too. "I got a few good years left, son. I may outlast you."

"I hope you do." Pete paused for a moment and tried to think of how he wanted to say the next bit. His father waited patiently on one knee, watching Pete's face, his body at ease. "I'm thinking about talking to Gwyn."

"Yeah? What brought that about?"

"I don't know. Mack thinks it would be good. I saw Jenny Ortega for lunch, and she says Gwyn wants to talk to me too."

"What do you want?"

"I want none of this to ever have happened."

His dad nodded. "I know I've always told you that nothing in life is impossible, but I think you just proved me wrong."

"Yeah. Now I just have to figure out the best way to eat this shit sandwich." His dad raised an eyebrow at the profanity. Pete shrugged his apology. His dad nodded to accept it. "I don't know if I can handle talking to her."

"How are you handling not talking to her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Son, your mother and I love you. Not as much as Luke, of course, because he's given us grandkids." Pete grinned at his dad. "It's plain for everyone to see how much Gwyn hurt you. You barely come to see us, and you never see anyone you grew up with. You're skinny. You hardly ever smile any more, and I can't recall the last time I heard you really laugh. How much worse do you think you'd feel if you talked with the woman?"

That was the rub. His life had sucked enormously since she betrayed their marriage, so how much worse could he feel? Which was exactly his fear. He could barely handle his pain now. If she did hurt him even a little bit more, he would shatter.

"I don't think I can handle any more."

"Then think about the chance of feeling better. Don't you think there's things you need to say, things you need to know, just to put the whole mess behind you?"

Pete thought about that for a bit, but his fear still overwhelmed his hope. "Maybe so."

His dad nodded again. They both knew that they didn't need to say anything more about it. Well, except one thing they rarely said out loud.

"Thanks, Dad."

The older man smiled. "If you really wanted to thank me you'd mow the lawn."

"You didn't help that much."

* * * * *

Gwyn took a deep breath and let it go slowly. She looked to Jenny, who smiled and gave her two thumbs up. Gwyn pressed Pete's number. She walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

"Hello?" Pete's voice was high, questioning. She felt his anxiety through the phone.

"Hi, Pete. It's Gwyn."

"Hi, Gwyn."

"How are you?"

"Okay. You?"

"I'm okay too, I guess. I saw you last night at Masu. I was with Jenny."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Still got that old gray t-shirt, I see."

"Best shirt I ever owned."

"I know. It's super comfortable. I used to steal it sometimes."

"Did I know that?"

"I used to wear your shirts whenever we couldn't be together at night."

"Yeah? I never did that with your clothes."

Gwyn laughed despite the tension. Pete could always make her laugh. She hesitated, but he didn't step into the silence.

"Do you think I could see you? Just for a few minutes?"

"How come?"

Tears came to her eyes and her voice got tight, but she would not flinch. She couldn't. Not now.

"I need to apologize to you. In person. I need -- " No, she thought, not like this. "I just need to."

It was his turn to be quiet. Gwyn just waited.

"I don't know, Gwyn."

"Please, Pete. I hate to ask. I have no right to ask. But I have to ask. Please."

He was quiet again. She couldn't even hear his breathing. And it went on. She was tempted to see if the call was disconnected, but she wouldn't give in. She needed to wait until he answered. She would wait forever if she had to. So she did wait, picturing him in her mind, him holding the phone to his ear, his emotions playing out across his face as he wrestled with the question that could reduce her to tears or send her to joyous heights.

"Why?"

"Why do I want to see you? Or why... did I do what I did?"

"Just why."

"Please can I see you? Just once. I won't bother you again."

The silence this time seemed to last forever. She was getting lightheaded waiting for his answer.

"Fine."

She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding, but she kept a tight rein on her emotions. She had to get through the whole call first.

"The park? Tomorrow morning?"

"Okay. Is nine good?"

"Whenever you want. I'll be there then, Pete."

"Bye, Gwyn."

* * * * *

The phone call should have surprised him, but it didn't. Everything that had happened the past couple weeks seemed to portend it. It was nearly anti-climatic, though certainly not pain free. Still, anticipating what she might say was more nerve-wracking than what she actually said. And while he dreaded their meeting the next morning, he felt peace since uncertainty was now removed. There would be no surprise meeting, no ambush.

Pete's evening was pleasant. He drove his parents over to Luke's house, and they had a family cookout. Burgers and brats, some past-its-prime corn on the cob, and a big watermelon to finish it off. He spent some time spitting seeds with his nieces, much to their mother's faux dismay. He didn't think he was tired since he'd done nothing physical all day, but he immediately went to sleep when he turned out the light.

His last thought was of Gwyn. He saw her on a summer evening shortly after they were married. So gorgeous, and the way she pulled back a wisp of hair that blew into her face was so gentle and yet so sexy too. He was solid then, and so was she.

God, he missed that.

* * * * *

Gwyn was also surprised that her nerves weren't completely shot. She was glad that she'd seen Pete on Friday night, because now his appearance wouldn't shock her.

She and Jenny did obsess over Gwyn's outfit for the meeting. Should she dress the way she knew he liked? Or would that trigger his pain and anger? Should she try to attract his attention, or downplay her physical attributes and present herself without distraction? Should she go all-in with make-up or just pull her hair back?

After nearly an hour of discussion and evaluating about ninety percent of her wardrobe, they decided simple and comfortable was best. Gwyn needed to show sincerity, she needed to be authentic, so anything that was remotely manipulative had to be left behind. She chose a modest t-shirt and a pair of capris with white sneakers. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, then just put on foundation for the sunblock and a light shade of lipstick for moisture.

Jenny stood in front of Gwyn, appraising. "You're so beautiful, hon. And you look hot too!"

"Thanks, cuz." Gwyn reached out and hugged Jenny. "I owe you more than I can ever repay."

"You've been so strong. And now you get to fix your worst mistake. I want to be just like you when I grow up."

"Don't make me cry! I'm going to be doing enough of that later."

"No tears. You've been working for this moment for a long time. Make sure it's everything you want it to be. Ready to go?"

Gwyn nodded and used her fingertips to wipe her eyes.

"Yes. Let's go."

* * * * *

Pete's mom had breakfast going as soon as he walked into the kitchen. His dad was at the table, reading the paper. Pete kissed his mother good morning, then tried to cadge the sports section from the stack in front of his father.

"That's the wrong pile, son. You get to choose from that one," his dad said, indicating the pile of shopping flyers, real estate showings, and entertainment news that he'd already discarded.

Pete snorted and pulled out his phone and wagged it. "You know I can get that whole paper from this little device, right?"

"Not the same as turning the pages. Here you go." His dad handed Pete the business section that he'd just finished. Pete took it, and the two men smiled without looking at each other.

Breakfast was French toast and link sausage, and the coffee was fresh and strong. Pete picked around his plate, his appetite a casualty of his distraction.

"Everything all right, honey?" his mother asked.

"Yeah." Pete nodded, trying to convince himself. "Just a lot of stuff, you know." He took a big breath. "I'm, uh, going to see Gwyn in a bit. At the park."

His parents caught each other's eyes. Hope, fear, relief, compassion, they all passed between them in a moment. His mother squeezed Pete's forearm and left her hand there.

"Will you be okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah. I think so. It's about time, I guess."

His father nodded. "It's the right thing, son. Do you know what you want to say to her?"

"Not really. She was the one who called me and asked me to meet up. I guess I'll just see when I get there."

"Well, give it some thought beforehand. That'll help you keep from saying things you don't want to."

His mom squeezed his arm again. "You're a good man, Peter Andrew. Gwyn hurt you very badly, but she was good for you for a long time too. Remember all of it, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mom. And thanks, Dad."

"You still have to wait for the sports section."

* * * * *

Jenny dropped Gwyn off twenty minutes early then drove to a Starbucks a few blocks away. She said a short prayer for both Gwyn and Pete.

Gwyn walked over to one of the benches that dotted the park. It was the bench they used when they got out of their apartment to enjoy some fresh air. She remembered those walks wistfully. So much carnage since then. She sat and crossed her legs, then wrapped her arms around herself. The day was beautiful: high wispy clouds, no breeze, and warm enough for her t-shirt but not so warm she needed to worry about sweat stains.

She waited, calmly.

It had only been 36 hours since Gwyn had seen her husband -- ex-husband -- again, but since then she felt like the universe had choreographed this meeting. She knew what she needed to say. Her regret for her actions was total. She steeled herself for his anger, his fury, his wrath. She might flinch at his words, but she would not flee from them. He would have his say, and she would take the punishment from every syllable. She would answer his questions honestly and completely. She loved him and she owed him, and the only point was to heal some of his suffering.

"Hey, Gwyn."

Gwyn started. She hadn't seen him approach. Pete perched on the very end of the bench, as far away as he could get and still share the seat. Gwyn had to squeeze her hands to keep from reaching out to him. His immediacy -- his clean scent, the sound of his elevated breathing, the sight of the tiny scar on his chin, the pulse of his body so close to her -- it excited her, while at the same time his close presence soothed her. She was never so comfortable as when she was near him.

"Hi, Pete. Thanks for coming." He shrugged in reply. "How are your folks? Your dad is 55 tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. They're good. Same as always anyway."

"Please say happy birthday for me. How are Luke and Mandy and the girls?"

"Doing fine. Growing up fast."

"I know. I saw Mandy out with the kids a couple months ago, and I couldn't believe how tall they are now."

Pete nodded again. He didn't look at Gwyn. His eyes searched the sidewalk instead. Gwyn's heart cramped. His pain throbbed from him.

"I know I've said it before, Pete, but I am so, so sorry for hurting you like I did." Her voice caught, but she pressed on. "It was devastating to me to see that I'm not the person I thought I was. I did a horrible thing to you. You are the most important person in my life, and I hurt you so badly. And I will always be sorry for doing that."

Pete nodded again, but his eyes were blank.

"I've peeled back a lot of layers. It's not been pretty, but it's told me about myself. I've been weak and self-indulgent and cavalier, and that turned into cruelty. To you. And I'm so very, very sorry for that.

"I want to be a better person. I'm humiliated. I don't feel worthy of anything most days. But I try to be better. Every day. I'm trying to earn back my self-respect.

"But I don't really want to talk about me. I want to hear about you. How are you?"

Pete exhaled slowly, but he didn't look at Gwyn.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit." Gwyn gave a timid smile. She rarely swore, and she hoped it might shock him a bit, but it didn't seem to have any impact. "You forget that I know you, Pete. You're not fine. I could tell Friday night from across the restaurant that you're not close to fine."

Pete grimaced. "Well, I suppose you know why that is."

"Oh, I know. I can't go back and change things. But maybe I can do something to help you heal. You don't have to be stoic with me. I want nothing more than to help you find your way back to the wonderful, generous, strong man you've always been."

"I think you're the last person I want to help. You crushed our marriage."

Gwyn caught a sob in her throat. She forced it back. She didn't deserve to cry in front of Pete. "I know I did. And I will regret that every single day until I die."

"And now you want to help?"

"I do. My therapist calls it atoning. I broke it. I broke us. I can't make it like it was before, but I can make restitution. And because I do know you so well I might be able to help in ways that no one else can."

"And what can you do, Gwyn? Besides rip out my guts again."

Tears spilled from Gwyn's eyes. She straightened herself, wiping her tears from her cheeks with force. This was so hard, seeing him in such agony. But she was resolute. She deserved this reaction and anything else he had for her.

"I'll do anything you need to heal, Pete. You want to yell at me? Fine, yell away. Call me names? Yes, do it. If you need to hit me, then hit me. If you need me to listen to you, to hold your hand, I'll do it. I will give you everything I have if it means you get past your pain."

Pete scoffed. He still wouldn't look at Gwyn.

"I don't ever see that happening."

"Please don't say that, Pete. Please don't give up on your happiness."

For the first time Pete turned to look Gwyn in the eyes. His were red and brimmed with unshed tears. Gwyn felt another deep stabbing pain in her heart. She had hurt him so, so badly.

"My happiness? The best day I can imagine is just a day without..., well, without thinking about you." He sighed. "I haven't had one yet."

Gwyn's heart beat faster. He still thought of her! But she willed that hope aside. Until he was healed every moment was his time. Her time would come after. If it came at all.

She'd expected to hear anger from Pete, even vitriol, but he was still in shock. Two years and he was still at the very raw first stages of his grief. What had she done to this man?

Pete stood up suddenly, breaking her reverie.

"This wasn't a good idea. Sorry."

Before she could answer him, he strode away. His shoulders shook, hunched and tight, but she couldn't tell if he was crying. She was too surprised to call out after him, but on reflection that might have been for the best.

Shit.

* * * * *

Pete drove to his parents' house in a daze. He had grown used to functioning using only part of his attention. Since leaving Gwyn after her infidelity he'd been a man divided between going about his life and guarding against his pain. But seeing and hearing Gwyn today took such a toll that he needed more than his usual reserves to cope.

He knew she'd affect him. Pete hadn't lied; he really did think about her every day. And every day it hurt him. But thinking about her in the abstract paled in the face of experiencing her actual presence. Full-on Gwyn was more than he could absorb and process.

Jenny was right. He'd spent only a few minutes sitting next to her, and he could barely summon the courage to look at her directly, but she was not the same woman he knew. She was strong, clear-eyed, defined. Burnished.

Again he felt the injustice, and it both angered and agonized him. Gwyn had betrayed him, and yet she found a better self in the aftermath. All he had was ashes and an oppressive and enduring sense of inadequacy, failure, and loss.

As he pulled into the driveway at his parents' house he acknowledged that his father had been right too. Pete should have given some thought to what he wanted to say to Gwyn before meeting her. He'd prepared himself for his emotional reaction, and he expected his verbal response to come to him in the moment. But the emotional blitzkrieg he felt sitting next to her was so jarring that his mind shut down and he had to flee. He hadn't even been able to stem his tears as he scuttled away from her.

He ran his hands over his face, blew out a breath, then went inside.

His parents didn't ask any questions. They didn't need to. One look and they could tell it hadn't gone well. So they did what Midwestern families do.

"Now that you're home go get cleaned up. We're heading over to Luke's in a few minutes, and you know how your father gets when it's time to leave."

Pete smiled grimly and nodded. "I'll be ready."

His mother gave her son a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. "I know. You always are."

Pete felt roiled during he cookout with Luke and Mandy and his nieces. He couldn't help compare his brother's marriage, children, and home to the empty mess that was his life. He wanted children, a marriage with a strong and loyal partner, a home filled with noise that signaled joy. Signaled love. Would he ever see it? Had Gwyn smashed his domestic dream into tiny, tiny pieces?