Regrets – By Kris

“I challenge any being to prove me wrong when I say that regrets are the worst kind of sins. They are simple at the core but messy along the border, they are easy to fall into, and with an effortless hand, a single regret can wipe away your life… your existence. But the most important element that links a sin and a regret together…”

~Howard Hawkes


Well shit, I use to do this all the time? Why would be the question.

I stand in the middle of the common area. My hand rubs the tense muscles in my neck as I look out over all the people. Commotion. Just a wall of commotion. People talking, phones ringing, bags being dragged and thrown to the ground, kids shrieking, and those ghastly little cars for old people… the ones that beep every three seconds and drive any normal person insane. They move at a snail’s pace so anybody who gets hit by it deserves to be. Any idiot can see it coming.

My eyes watch one of these carts roll but my sight is broken as my shoulder is pushed and I jerk forward. Instinctively, my head whirls around just in time to see a cluster of teens walk past me.

“Sorry about that… didn’t mean to be so rude… too busy flirting to realize you were there…” I shake my head and continue to mutter. This truly is shit. How did I survive this for all those years? Constantly moving, constantly on a plane and on trains and dealing with such… such… whatever this shit is.

I officially think I’m too old for this. Or at least, too tired and too out of practice. Need to get my lazy ass out of the office more often and back out into the world. Why did I stop? I guess that is the question. Didn’t really notice I missed it. Not so sure I do miss it. It just got all redundant and dull. Too many meetings about pointless things. Too many old men in gray suits and now, well now I’m the old man in the suit. I went everywhere. Met with everybody. Started charity after charity and business after business. When you have to hire people to keep track of all your office buildings- you need a life. Life- that’s something I don’t have. In some ways, I’ve never had one. There was a time I thought I did, but when it was taken away I ran. I made things and so it’s all quite simple, I burned myself out.

Now what? Grab something to drink, I guess.

I adjust the strap on my briefcase and begin to walk. I catch the view outside the windows of JFK Airport. Not really the most beautiful view. It’s actually rather terrible. But then again, New York really isn’t known for its beauty. The city has changed a bit too. Something in the feel. But then again, I gave it five years to change, so I guess it could just be me. Nothing about it changed, just my perception of it. Wonder if LA is the same? Has the feel changed? A shift in the vibe, perhaps.

I shake my head and continue towards the small café counter, “Really have to get out more.”

I pass by a couple dozen people, side step a few, walk through the middle of a group and stop abruptly as a kid runs out in front of me before I finally make it to the counter. I smile at the female, “Vanilla latté.”

“Size?”

“Umm… what’s it… a…” My eyes narrow as I attempt to locate the sizes on the very unorganized board, “Grande should do.”

I really could use a good tea, but no way in hell I’ll simply settle for a bottled version. She is staring at me. Processing it I suppose. Rather slowly I might add but then she nods at me and sets off to work. Hearing the machine start, I turn slightly and adjust the shoulder strap yet again. My right hand holds it in place as I turn completely and lean up against the counter. My eyes are caught by a plane pulling away from its gate and a bunch of kids line the windows watching in awe and waving madly. Nobody cares and nobody can see them, but they wave anyways. It’s rather cute. Especially the little boy who keeps jumping every time the plane moves an inch.

Innocence.

Businessmen in their suits with their newspapers. Just so dull. They stick out and have this air about them like they are something special to behold. When all they are, are businessmen in a suit. God, and I was one of them for all this time? It’s not that I hate the business or the job, just never realized how stale and common-place we all looked- I looked. Then there are the families heading off on vacation. The parents look ready to lose it and the kids are all in tears, what’s the point?

God, how I miss family vacations.

I laugh lightly as I watch a mother drag her son along the rug. This is why I always flew private. My own little entrances and exits. Alone. No fuss, no unnecessary people. And I can get a latté without it taking an hour. When did I become such a crotchety old man? The Scrooge of life?

About seven years ago I guess.

Turning back around to see what is taking so long, my hands lay flat on the counter, but something has caught the corner of my eye. It was brief and meaningless. Happens a million times a day and I should ignore it and yell about my drink, but instead, my head turns slightly to the left and I try to figure out what it was that had grabbed my attention. I simply see more chaos. Groups of people, but nothing all that interesting.

My eyes move from one person to another. A man with an obnoxiously bright tropic shirt on, another sporting that ridiculous mouse and an old lady who forgot to look in the mirror before heading out into the public- some people just shouldn’t be allowed out in the world.

I’m not seeing anything of importance and just as I give up, I stop. Blonde, fair skin, talking with her hands, and perfectly shaped legs. Sure, that could make her just about anyone, but as she tosses her head back- I know it must be to laugh and I know it’s her. It’s an odd angle on her profile but th- –

“Sir.”

I shake my head and blink myself back into the coffee situation. I look up at the woman to let her know I heard her but toss another quick glance back to make sure I was correct in what I was seeing, “Could I…” turning back around, “Could I get another one with whipped cream?”

“Instead of this one?”

Society is falling apart, doomed with no hope of survival because this is, “Along with this one. Need- -” Trying to make this easy, I place a possessive hand over this one, “I want this one. And now would also like a second with whipped cream.”

“Could have ordered them both together.”

I open my mouth. Close it. This is, after all, New York City. Have to be pleased she speaks English. “I could have. I’m sorry.”

I receive a look. Not a very nice look and I just laugh. Turning to the man next to me, “You may just want to run to another one… would be faster.”

He smiles at me, “Probably not. The workers seem to be clones.”

We share a laugh and I can’t help but look back in her general direction. Would hate to miss her, but she’s still there. In total concentration. My fingers begin to tap the counter and I watch the woman work with the machine. Can’t be that hard. You push a button, liquid comes out, spray some whipped cream on the top and its over. So where is she going so wrong?

My eyes are on my feet as I hear the whipped cream can and I look up and mutter out “Finally.” Hate waiting on people when I have things to do. Well more, people to see but it’s all the same. Pulling out my wallet, I snap it open and then close it. Flipping it over, I dig my fingers into the side pocket and pull out some American bills. Locating a five and two ones quickly, I toss those on the counter with a slight “Thank you” before I fix that damn strap, and place my hands around the coffees and move towards the left and head straight for her.

I’m staring at her back and accidentally catch the eyes of her company. I look away. Very away as I practically turn in the opposite direction. How pathetic am I? But it’s a weird feeling to be caught staring. So now I am going to feel really stupid and walk towards her while looking at a different destination. Move closer to her, yet hardly looking at her. Just as I get behind her, my arm reaches around her and I state quietly, “Latté? Vanilla with some whipped cream.”

She tenses. I’m not touching her but I can tell. But who wouldn’t? It’s a normal reaction as she tries to place the voice. Shouldn’t be hard. At least I hope not.

“I’m not so sure I should accept things from strangers.”

She’s smiling and trying to play with me. Wouldn’t have it any other way. “You’ve forgotten me? I’m hurt.”

Taking the coffee in her hand, she turns slowly, “You disappear for a couple of years and then yo- -” She breaks off as our eyes meet. Her sarcastic or bitter comment meant as a joke is gone. Not sure what she was going for. Don’t think she knows either. She’s still trying to adjust to the shock. It’s clearly written in her eyes. They are quite wide, but clouded over as she adjusts.

I smile slightly. It’s more teasing and cocky. I want her to smile. Trying to force that reactionary smile out of her, “Peace offering then?”

She’s not smiling. Why isn’t she smiling? If she doesn’t, I don’t know what to do. I look down at my feet and then back up at her. She lifts the lid on her coffee and takes a small sip. Her tongue darts out to remove the whipped cream from her upper lip, but she misses a small spot at the corner of her mouth. I shouldn’t but I’m already leaning forward, so there is no hope now. It’s too natural, not to. It’s an action that haunts my memory and all these years later, I’m often left wondering if any of the emotions were really as strong as I remember. So, I place a chaste kiss over the sweet spot, effectively removing the remaining cream before whispering in her ear, “Smile please.”

This gets her. Her face brightens and her eyes twinkle, “John.”

I laugh. There’s my girl. “Hey yourself. You’re lookin’ good… very very- -” I’m hit and I stop. “What? I’m just letting you know what I th- -“ I sigh, “Just letting you know that I missed you and that you are looking amazing. Seriously.”

She blushes and I can’t help but smile. Been so long since I’ve seen her blush. Been so long since I’ve seen her nose wrinkle and the turn of her head, as she tries to hide in her hair. But why does it seem so much redder than I remember? Time… been awhile since she’s gotten one from me. She takes a step forward. Placing her leg in between mine and wraps her arms around my waist. My left comes around her shoulders as I pull her closer to me and whisper, “Don’t spill on my shirt.”

Marlena laughs and buries her face into my shoulder. I never thought how hard or perhaps, even unfair this might be for her. Paying little attention to my bag, I allow my cheek to rest against the side of her head and I can’t help but inhale the scent of her hair. We almost fit perfectly together. She always said that are bodies must have been built from the same mold, because we are like puzzle pieces meant to be put together. Never did ask her if she said that to Roman. I never wanted to know.

As she backs up, she begins to move around me, but stops and smoothes down my shirt, “Barely noticeable.”

I laugh at that. Laugh harder than necessary but I have missed her. “So, heading back to Salem?”

“Actually, down to Florida.” She looks down for a minute, as if the words are caught within her throat. Simple question, wasn’t it? Nothing too prying. “Eric will be meeting me down there, he’s uh, he’s moving into his dorm tomorrow.”

That explains it. Massively awkward now. “Oh. Wow.” That’s a good response right? Haven’t seen the kid in over six years. Went from entering middle school with me to college in a matter of seconds, so yeah, that was an appropriate answer. “I, uh sorry, just wow. Blowing my mind a little here. But of course, they would be college age.” I have a million questions for her. Sami has kept in touch a bit over the years, but I have always wondered just how well High School and the change over really went for them. But it’s not like I’ll get an honest answer out of her right now anyways, so why bother prying too much deeper? “Graduated.”

“Yeah, scary huh? I still feel like it was yesterday that I was bringing them into nursery school.”

“God, I remember the first day of kindergarten. Sami dropped me so fast and Eric wouldn’t let go of me. I was totally prepared for the opposite. I ended up sitting in this tiny chair, paranoid that my butt was stuck forever, with Eric on my lap for half the day. He was so little.”

Marlena smiles softly, “You never told me that story before.”

“Well,” What’s an appropriate comment here? I take a sip of my drink to buy me a few seconds, “Someday we’ll have to sit and share stories. Where is he going?”

“He decided on FIT. He wants physics or chemical engineering, he hasn’t quite decided which. I fear he’ll go after both and cause himself to burn out.”

“Nah, he’s a smart kid. He’ll figure out a balance. He always loved his chemicals.”

“Yeah, he was always reading about science. I’m sure you remember, how many books he went through, experiences, and how many phones calls we got about him sneaking into the chemistry room when he was just in the…” I join in with a laugh, “second grade.”

We both laugh at the memory, “Yeah, I remember that. I think the teacher had us on speed-dial. She said that this was her first time having to call about a good student constantly. Just couldn’t keep the boy out.” I readjust my bag, switch hands with my drink, and look out towards the window, “Wow, all grown up. No longer playing with a chemistry set in the basement, ordering me to stay out. I was honestly afraid that one day Frankenstein was going to walk through the kitchen.” I can see where she is about to take this conversation, it’s my fault. I opened it up too much to reminiscing. That won’t get me anywhere, need to bring it back on line. So as she takes a drink, I jump in with, “And Sami?”

“She’s sticking around Salem for now. Things have been a little hard on Sami, she’s not the biggest fan of change so she is going to start at Salem U and will, perhaps, transfer out next semester or next year. She’s going for journalism currently.”

“And what will she be-”

I stop so she jumps in, “Do with it? Heavens know, but knowing my little girl, she’ll change her mind a million times over.”

“Just like her mom.” I step back playfully as she moves to hit me. Pointing at her cup, “Watch it or you will end up spilling. Carrie?”

“Engaged.”

She says it quietly, like if I hear it softly, I won’t feel quite so horrible. “Engaged? To be married? Not to that Austin guy.”

Marlena has a small smile on her face and I can only assume it comes from my tone. “You never did approve of him, even when they were so young. But no, things between them ended a few years ago. Not long after… after you left. Too much stress and strain.”

I don’t quite follow her here, “Stress? Because of her accident?” Her eyes fly up to my own, “I co-sponsored the event, so not only did I see the newspaper article about the attack, but it was in the memos. I hope she got my gift, but I felt so horrible. But she’s okay now, right?”

“Yeah. Can barely notice the scars. Have to be looking for them to see’em. But so much happened, there was just a lot tied up into that attack, with Austin and Roman got involved and well… she’s engaged to this very handsome and sweet boy named Bryan. Bryan Hanson and he’s just finishing up med-school so that is always a plus.”

“But long hours.”

“Yeah, but she is getting into business, so they will have to learn communication.”

“Good for her. I’ll have to send her a gift.”

“You should come.”

We share a look and an understanding is formed, I’m just not sure which type of understanding. Is it because she knows that I won’t show or is it because I know that I can’t really show? Well not can’t, I always could. But I won’t. Well, I guess in some ways I can’t, its just too much drama and it would be her special day… God, I’m actually trying to talk myself out of going. My life is so fucked up.

Silence falls and its, in all honesty, uncomfortable. I’m trying to remember why I decided to say Hi to her. I think I may be doing more harm than good. More harm to the both of us. And I seriously regret doing this to her. I only have ever truly regretted five things in my life, this would be the sixth. Four out of the six surround her. I’ve regretted not saving her from Orpheus and I have regretted not keeping her alive enough in our household after she was gone and most of all, I’ve regretted leaving. I have replayed that day, those weeks, months over in my head a million times. Perhaps more. I have created many alternate endings and I regret not giving any of those a try. Now I regret this. Number six.

It’s Marlena who finally breaks through the agonizing silence, “Where are you heading off too? Business meeting?”

“Actually, home.”

“Really?” She is surprised and intrigued, “You don’t live here anymore?” At my questioning look, she continues, “I had heard a rumor that you moved here and started a new branch on your office.”

Nodding, “I, uh, lived here for a bit. Then spent some time in Florida, Massachusetts, was in LA for a year, then Maine and then have spent the last few years living in London. Well, just outside of it, doing some business with my European branches. Now putting together a new office in LA. So will be calling there home for now.”

“You closed your offices in Salem.” I nod. Not a topic I care to get into and she drops it there. “So, do you like it out there?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I haven’t been there yet, but before it was much different. New York and LA are very different cities. Both big and busy but very different. And London is just a totally different ballgame. Think I will just have some troubles readjusting to being back in the states, you know?”

“Doesn’t sound like you have a home John.”

“Not really, I guess. Did have this adorable little house in a town just outside of London. Loved it there. Had a garden and some woods. Reminded me a little of Salem, especially the cabin.”

I see a cloud move through her eyes, she’s upset or sad about something. I assume it’s my mentioning of the cabin. She’s probably not impressed with my sneaky little way of reminding her of our live together. But I don’t know why that should bother her, it was literally a lifetime ago and I’m sure she has so many new memories of that place, memories that don’t star me. But then she speaks and I get confused, because perhaps it wasn’t the cabin that made her go so sad, “So why did you give it up, assuming by your use of ‘did,’ that you sold it.”

“Didn’t see the point in keeping it. Who knows when I’ll return there.”

“John, to me it seems like you are running away from something.”

I smile tightly, “Always a shrink, right Doc? Never able to turn that part of you off, can you?”

“No.” She tilts her head to follow my gaze, “Any particular reason you don’t want to find a place to settle down?”

“Work doesn’t really allow that right now.”

“John…” My name is drawled out and I suddenly feel like I use to when I was either lying to her or purposely withholding information and she knew it, “In all these years-“

I cut her off because I don’t really need her to rationalize it for me. I know why I don’t have a home, because I lost my home. I lost my family and I can’t try to trick myself into thinking otherwise- try to trick myself into finding a place and forcing myself to settle. I did try. I tried in London and came close. I honestly did, but I can’t do it. I just can’t physically or emotionally do it- not yet at least. “Lets not be fools here, I’m positive you already have it all figured out.”

“Perhaps.”

She looks down and silence takes over us again. I am truly hating silence right now and I am truly beginning to hate myself for putting me into this position. What the hell did I think this would accomplish? Like I really needed to see that she is still incredible- hasn’t changed a bit. Me on the other hand… I’m so royally fucked up it isn’t funny. Seeing her take a drink, I follow suit. Then I rub the back of my neck and attempt to laugh, “Wow, this is a little… tense. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say whatever is on your mind.”

I smile, “If only I could Doc. If only there was the time. But that’s the thing, how do we catch up on the last seven years in a twenty minute conversation?”

“I don’t know. I guess extend the time limit.”

“Boy would I love to do that. At least let me ask, how are you doing? Really.”

There is a noticeable shift in her demeanor. One that I cannot really read, but I know that I am about to get the truth, “I’ve been okay, I guess. The kids have kept me so busy most of the time and then there is work. Going to have an empty house now, so… well that fact is just starting to sink in so think I’m starting to get the empty nest syndrome. Not so sure what to do with all the free time and silence that I’ll be getting.”

“Won’t be that quiet, you’ll still have Roman around.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Now we are getting somewhere, “Marlena, are things okay between you two?”

“Yeah, things are just fine. He’s…” She shrugs her shoulders and focuses on anything that isn’t me, “Roman just works a lot and has been taking a lot of cases lately from the ISA, so he’s gone a lot. Makes it hard. Makes all of this ever harder, I guess.”

“I can imagine. You are left alone to deal with everything, as usual.” I receive a quick glance because of my bitter tone, but I do notice that her eyes never fully formed a glare, so I must be hitting the correct buttons. I need to stop this line of questioning or else I can’t be sure of what I’ll ask.

But before I can change the topic, Marlena continues, “It’s not like when you were around. Roman went from being home and spending as much time as possible with the kids and I, to just never being around. He is always missing so much and most of all, I feel bad for the twins, because Sami and Eric are hurting.”

“Oh Doc,” I reach out to remove a tear that is threatening to fall down her cheek, “The kids know that Roman loves them and I am sure he is simply doing what he thinks is best for you all. He loves you.”

“They are hurting John. They never fully healed from everything I put them through.”

“We put them through Doc. We, not just you. It was Stefano’s fault and Roman and I played just as much of a role in this all as you did. We talked about this?”

“Did we John? Because I don’t remember.”

I look at her strangely, because I know she has not forgotten our final chat, “What do you mean you don’t remember?”

“I remember you telling me that you had it all figured out, decided what was best, and than informing me that you were leaving. I remember that clearly.”

Her voice has risen a bit and I look around quickly to see if we are catching anybody’s attention. “You are making it sound like I decided everything. I only choose that course of action after you told me that you were going to go with Roman and try to put back together your… your family. The original one.”

“And then you left.”

“I had no choice.”

She looks at me in a curious way and I can’t breath. It’s almost like she doesn’t believe me, “Could have chose to stay.”

“Oh no, no, that wasn’t a choice. You know, Marlena you know that that wasn’t a choice for me. I had nothing there and I sure as hell wasn’t going to force myself to stay there and live like a zombie.”

“No, instead you do that everywhere else in the world.”

Ouch. Point for Marlena. “Yeah, maybe I do. But it is a little bit easier to get out of bed every morning in London or LA or here, than it was in Salem. I was dying there.”

The silence hits again, but this time I don’t mind it so much. It’s less painful than the words. I should be moving on and I am trying to convince myself to start the goodbyes, make up some damn excuse to run away, but once again, she interrupts my thoughts, “When did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you had to leave, rather than staying in Salem?”

“Oh.” Good question, when did I figure it out? “The twins baseball game.” At her questioning look, I begin to play with the lid of my cup and explain, “You couldn’t be there and Roman arrived late. I got there and just… I dunno. I fell into the dad role. Cheering and instructing and then Roman came and I felt so angry and jealous and… and… uh lost, I guess. I wasn’t dad anymore and I couldn’t bare to see somebody else take over- especially when I didn’t honestly feel he could do it as well as I had.” There, I said it. Something that I wanted to say for so long, the words are finally let free.

“They could have used that father. In a way, they still could.”

“Marlena, they have a father and he is all anybody needs there.”

She smiles bittersweetly at me and shakes her head, “How can I believe you John, when you don’t even believe it yourself?”

“It might be a whole lot of shit, but its true Marlena.”

“When did you become so cynical?”

“The day I left Salem.” I check my watch and realize that it is getting very close to my flight’s time. Not really the way I wanted this meet and greet to go and not really the way I want to leave it. Not sure what I want really. But you can’t sum up years of life in one conversation and you can’t also solve past hurts in an airport. Its now time, “My flight is loading and I’m sure yours won’t be too long now either. So its time for Barbra to start singing ‘The Way We Were’ and for Robert to take a deep breath and walk away.”

She is crying now, openly and it’s breaking my heart. Perhaps I shouldn’t have referenced her favorite movie that way, but it does describe our emotions perfectly and the fucked up moment we are in. It was nice to see, but now the pain and the ‘what if’ shit just gets to grow ever more. “Hey hey now… don’t cry. I hate to see you cry, you know that.” I can feel my own eyes start to go, “And you also know that I tend to cry when I watch you. You’re being cruel. Fate is being cruel.” I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly. I fear that I am squeezing her, but she isn’t protesting so I’m not letting go.

For the first time in years, I can smell her hair and it’s just like I remember it to be. Cheesey, I know. Not exactly true, I know. But it’s the sentiment that counts. There are times that I try to remember her smell or how she felt in my arms, but most nights I can’t recall it. But now… now it all comes soaring back and I think I’ve majorly fucked up with coming over here.

I pull back, but rest my hand against her cheek, “Let’s try this again sometime.”

“Yeah. When we have more time to catch up.”

I return her smile, “You bet.”

We share a nod and then I lean forward to kiss her cheek and whisper a soft “Take care” into her ear.

“I will.” Her words come out more mouthed than spoken and I turn to walk away.

I adjust the strap of my briefcase, but stop upon hearing her call my name. Turning, I acknowledge her and she takes a few short steps to clear the distance between us, “Eric will be playing soccer for FIT and Sami will be playing tennis, they may be eighteen but they still could use somebody on the sideline cheering them on, ordering them about.”

“Marlena-“

“Seriously John. I know that you miss them and I know that they do need you. I hate myself that I have waited this long to tell you that. There are a lot of things that I hate, but there isn’t time now. But think about them. Besides, it may even do you a bit of good.”

“And what about Roman?”

“What about him?” I leave that statement where it is and file the look on her face away for future study and analysis. My head nods and I hear a Florida flight being called. She smiles one more brilliant smile at me before stating simple, “I gotta go.”

“Don’t think the plane will wait?”

“Well, unlike you, I don’t own my own plane.”

“Very true. Was…” I break off. Now how to end? I cup her cheek and turn her towards me, “I’ve missed you a lot and… thanks.”

A true Marlena smile. Been waiting a long time to see one of those again, “Same here.” I can tell that she wants to continue but doesn’t have the words. I mouth ‘I understand’ and watch a grateful look form on her face, “Remember what I said.”

“I will.”

She moves up to her tip-toes and kisses my cheek before moving past me with a soft, “Bye.”

I wave into the air. Pointless since she is walking away from me. I reach behind me, into my back pocket for my ticket and keep myself focused forward. I wish I could change flights. Or change our times. Or hell, wish I could just screw it all and go off to Florida with her. Forget about the world or the consequences for once and be willing to create some hell. Only way I can get some things back again. Here is the game of what ifs that my mind is starting to play with as I slowly make my way through the crowd. Playing through all these situations, but it’s all hopeless.

Hopeless. I reach the counter, hand off my ticket and pause. I want to turn around and look. I want to just go back and… and do something. But I don’t. I never do. I never have. Instead I thank the woman, lean over to throw out my coffee and walk through the arch. Just like that. No looking back. I choose the easy way out. The leaving.

This very well could be my seventh regret.


“… is the purely logical human behavioral element that once you start sinning, you can’t stop. It becomes the simplest way out of any remotely complicated issue. Humans run. Humans hide. Therefore, Humans sin for they know not how to right the complex wrongs of their world. There are no solutions. As an intellectual race we…”

~Howard Hawkes
1943



How in the hell does anybody live here? I reach up to readjust my cap after another brutal shouldering by some unknown blur that I think was human. Never spent much time here- will always get lost. Hundreds of streets, each look the same, never know which way to walk and this damn crowd doesn’t give you the five seconds needed to figure it out. Strike that. You aren’t walking. You are literally being carried by this no bullshit and no questions mob. It never slows down. It never lightens up. It just is… constant. God-damn city that honestly never sleeps.
I side-step a few times, duck under a 4 by 4 waltzing uncaringly down the street and finally turn the corner off of Time Square. God, not sure I can ever say that its pretty with all that chaos. This is nuts! No other way to put it. People everywhere- cars everywhere- its hotter than hell- the smell alone is deadly and the smog… how do people breathe? They must grow new lungs- no other way.

Two blocks, four pushes and twelve coughs later I see the theatre. I may have lost my hometown feeling but Nashville has not created an impossibly large city vibe within me. Not even close. Like to walk down a street. This is a freakin maze! A hideously grotesque one at that.

I step to the edge of the curb- out of the way- and look up. Its mid afternoon, sun still full blast and the theatre looks so quiet- almost run down. Last night it was bright and beautiful. New York City day and New York City night are two very separate things. Its so ugly and congested during the day. The magic comes at night. The magic is in those light bulbs.

Why do lights create magic? Must just be the contrast between the dark night and the twinkling lights. Like Christmas morning. Its just a morning, yet, so completely different than all the others.

Her name is right there. Trisha Yearwood spelled out in black. Right now its nothing. Blends with everything else. Last night it was screaming for people to look. Now her pictures are barely noticeable- dark under the flap… as if it were gone and forgotten. Give it a couple of hours and it will be screaming life again but… the difference just can’t be expressed. The lifelessness, the emptiness… perhaps I shouldn’t have come back around. Perhaps its unfair to her… to me. I took the life out of it by returning. By seeing it this way. Seeing it dead. Is that what I wanted to do? Needed to show myself that it isn’t always bright, cheery, brilliant and simply incredible. Damn… it really is just such a different life.

I’m use to one place for one night- perhaps two if its cool. Name flashes and is then taken down. No big fuss within the sign. They know you are coming or they don’t. You know if you have any care to attend. No need to advertise with a damn sign. She was use to that too…

But here, here its consistent- permanent. Its her place. Becomes a fixture for people here, so there is nothing exciting about it all. They walk by these theatres constantly- names come… stay… and then go. They don’t blink. A new name can’t possibly mean anything to them. It should. It should because its about to become a fixture of their world. Something that will stay. Yet, they pay no attention or do they?

I stand back within the overhang and watch the people pass by. All with their heads up and focused straight ahead. A few on cells, a few chatting with a friend but all eyes are straight ahead. Nobody looks up. Perhaps I just want to believe that this isn’t her life. That these people aren’t good enough but… they ain’t even looking up.

They should blink. They should stop. They should learn the new things that they see before them. I know that they don’t realize the talent or more importantly the woman that lays behind those letters. The road did. Those one night flashing signs expressed the woman- the singer. This doesn’t. Its just black letters. Not even cool black letters.

Hell, nobody even turns their heads to glance momentarily at the photos. Its not like they are little and it would take effort to peer at them. All you have to do is look. Turn your head slightly. Yet, not even the gorgeous one of her in a bold, rather risqué red dress gets an eye.

Not sure why I needed to come back. Had some interviews… that’s why I am here here. There were spaces so caught a few shows- this one last night- and all were awesome. Do love a good show. But why am I standing here? Why is this the meeting place? What compelled me to add this to the list of ’must see one last time’? If anybody knows, please let me know. I could use the help. Any help.

I sigh for I need a lot of help it seems.

I see a lull in the traffic and do an awkward half jog across the literally steaming pavement. I check my watch. What time did we say? Yeah… I’m right on time. Had to skip the antique shop because I spent too long chatting this morning. Getting coffee became a complication. What’s the odds I would run into the only country fan in this multi-million bodied city? Only me.

But yeah, my point. Had to skip my shop- one less candle stick I guess. I will survive, I’m sure. But I am on time. Positive of it. Probably running late. That’s all. Normal for her. Like I should talk. But man, I really wish she would hurry up. Perhaps I can wait down the road… or back across the street even. Keep an eye open from a distance. Feel like an ass standing here.

My eyes go back up to the billboard. Trisha Yearwood. Black. Bold. New York Time’s review of her heart-wrenching voice is right on. “Captivating.” Yes, but so much more so. So much more. No mention of her solo career- of her country roots. One would have to read the articles plastered to particular parts of this place to find that out. And then its random newspapers and magazines saying the same quick sentence about her life as an award winning country artist. As if that is an everyday accomplishment. Mentioning Bruce, his career, her connections and how her and Ela are one of the few mother-daughter pairs to ever grace the centre stage together.

I dunno. Should be in bold letters. “County Music Sensation…“ Crapass black letters should include that. Be proud of where she came from. Be proud of what she is made of. That never disappears and in the end that is all you have. Why is she running away from it? Why hurt yourself that way? She has finally gotten to the place she always wanted to try, but to what expense? What has she lost? Too much in my opinion. Just too damn much.

Or perhaps its me who has lost too much.

I cross my arms and keep looking- I don’t know what I except to find in these black letters created by one person and put up by another- nothing to do with her, yet, I’m searching. Standing in the middle of one of the few sidewalks that aren’t crammed with people, thumbs moving back to my pockets and staring. People probably think I’m illiterate. But instead, just a guy on an impossible search. Always looking and wanting something that is not there. Perhaps this isn’t about the industry. Perhaps it is about her. Those black letters just might be saying so much about the Trisha Yearwood of today and I just can’t bare it. Therefore, I blame is on everything else… everyone else.

A small smile begins to form. She’s behind me. I can just feel it. Ever had that feeling? When you know somebody so well that you can just feel their presence. Probably not. Probably think I am nuts. Hell, I usually think I’ve lost it.

Yet I am so sure of myself that I actually speak, “Impressive.”

If she is shocked that I realized that she was there, her voice doesn’t betray it, “Thank you. Still getting use to it.”

“And congratulations on its success. Well deserved.”

“Getting use to that too.”

I turn to finally greet her, “Nah, you always soaked in the praise. A big head suits you.”

“Gee thanks… I think.” Her baffled chuckle makes me smile. A silence surrounds us. Just like the year before. So much to say and just no where to begin. Can’t even pick a point because you’ll lack the needed details to understand.

I get a thought- mouth opens and then I see Ela sprinting foreword, “Mom, got the last muffin!” By watching her eyes, I see that she ignores her mother’s comment of ’You always do’ as she stops and looks my way- who I am finally registering. “Hello Mr. Brooks.” Picking at the muffin top, “Cool shirt.”

I look down at the shirt before sending a “Thank you” her way. Why do people look? Do you not remember what you are wearing? I know I am wearing my Billy Joel concert shirt to show my age. Why did I look? Must be because they are looking and verbally acknowledging my shirt so I have to look to. Its just natural. You don’t think, ’Oh I should look too.’ You just do. Yeah, its natural. Glad she likes it.

“Nice to see you again Ms. Ela. Have a few extras hanging around if you’d like one.”

“For real?” She crosses her arms, careful not to hurt her, what looks to be a, blueberry muffin, “Let me guess, your friends with the Billy Joel.”

“The Billy Joel huh? I call him Billy.” I get a young adult’s ‘ugh’ look. I just smile at her. “I am privileged enough to know the man and can hook you up. Let you be cool. So how are you doing?”

She pops a piece of muffin into her mouth, while chewing, “Good.” Her slim throat makes it very noticeable to see it go down, “We did as you said and now,” The smile can’t be hidden, “I’m in a show with mom! It’s a total blast.”

“Total blast?”

“Totally!”

Trisha joins in with my laughter- a pre-teens vocabulary. Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand. I see Trish out of the corner of my eye and she, too, is smiling down at her daughter.

“Not a bummer to be with your mom *all* the time?”

“Hey!” I get a light smack from the insulted mom but the child doesn’t seem affected or worried about answering. “Umm… not so bad. Could be worse. But can’t fool around. Everybody knows who dad is and since mom is the star…” She shrugs, “I get treated different at times. But I do love it.”

“I can tell. I…” I bend slightly to be more eye level with her, “I think you are brilliant. Even when tripping over furniture.”

Her eyes light up, “You came last night!?”

Straightening, “Well, I couldn’t miss seeing you show off your talents. And girl, you’ve got talent! That stage is yours. You own it.” I watch the proud feeling wash over her face and I can’t help but add, “But fire the furniture.”
She smiles, a true smile that brightens her face, its Trisha. I never noticed any Trish within her daughter but her eyes, but there is no mistaking it. That’s her smile. “You thought I was good? Yeah! So cool! Mom, did you hear that? The man who knows the Billy Joel said I was good. Alright!” Not waiting for her mom’s response she turns back to me with a very serious look, “Do you think I can make a CD then?” She pops another piece of muffin as if she simply asked me if I think it is going to rain. Love the way kids look at the world, “Want a piece?”

“Thank you.” Plucking off a small piece, I toss it into the air and catch it in my mouth.

“Cool!” She giggles out while her mother just shakes her head, “Still so proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I went through a lot of M&M’s learning how… still finding them all over the bus.” My hand goes behind my neck, itching and then nervously playing with the tag. Now where to go?

“Okay, think I got it.” Ela tosses up a rather blueberry piece and clumsily catches it on her tongue.

“Impressive. Took me a couple months. Took you half of a muffin. Thanks for the ego boost there.”

She smiles cheekily at me, “So… could I make a CD?”

“You didn’t forget huh?”

“I’m a kid. Its my job not to.”

That’s very true… “You got a point there. Well mom. What is your opinion on this?”

“Oh no no… not bringing me into this all. I live with her. And well, she asked you.”

“Thanks a lot.” So not helpful there Trish. So not helpful. “Well my girl, umm… I would say that you have it in you. But… umm… you have the country sole in you actually. Not Pop and not Broadway. The CD would have to be true country- not sure if that is what you wanted to hear.”

“Like mom was?”

Was. She said was. I sure hope not because then country would have lost one of their best singers. Would be a tragic loss. A blow that I‘m not sure we would ever truly recover from. Similar to the loss of Patsy and Tammy. Trisha could be in that line. Should be. Perhaps is or at the very least was on her way to being. Losing her completely would crumble a certain integrity that we are trying desperately to build back up. But then again, perhaps we’ve already lost her and I just refuse to believe it. If that’s true, I’m still not ready to.

“Like your mom is.” I pat her nose and continue, “I think you would make a wonderful new generation of country singers. Make your own mark with the business. But ya got some time. Can talk to my daughter.”

“She is making a CD?”

Trisha turns towards me quickly, “Taylor is making an album?”

“Wow… rushing. She is taking a step towards it.”

“That’s incredible! I heard all the wonderful reviews of her from the tour. Just… wow. Sorry I didn’t get to hear her.”

I look down sadly, “Me too. But you’ll get a shot sometime. I don’t think she is going to shut that mouth anytime soon. At least… God, I hope not.”

“She won’t.” There is that smart-ass smirk, “She’s Garth Brooks’s daughter afterall. No way she could ever learn to shut her mouth.”

“Ouch!” I clutch my chest in mock pain. “That hurt. I know how to shut my mouth. Once in awhile. Umm.. Yeah. When its important enough.”

Another laugh. On a roll here. “Ela, honey, you better get in there. You’re first.”

“Oh yeah. I am, I guess. Awesome to see you again Mr. Brooks. Like to meet Taylor- maybe I can be her backup singer! Yeah, that would be totally cool.”

“She’d probably think so too. I’ll let her know.”

She looks down at her feet, shuffling, a motion her mother does when she doesn’t really want to leave, “I gotta go. Could you have dinner with us?”

“Leave it to my daughter to remember manners, so yeah, busy tonight? How long are you here for?”

“Actually leaving… soon. This was my last stop.”

It dawns on her what that means. I never planned on getting in touch with her while I was here. Saw the show. Cheered. But didn’t stick around long enough to say ‘hi’ at stage door. I’m a jerk. But as long as you know you are one, its not so bad.

“Ela, better get in there. Will be right behind you.”

“Okay. Sorry you couldn’t stay longer. And thank you.”

“For?”

She smiles, “Garth Brooks said I had talent. Bet nobody else in there can say that.”

“You are so sweet. But that you do. I’ll see you again soon.”

She nods and begins the short trek to the stage door. Just before she pulls it open, “Oh yeah! I remembered what you said.”

Totally confused, “What’s that?”

“I feel it in here.” She points to her heart, “I feel it every night and I’ve never gone wrong. Bye!”

With that she disappears within the heavy doors. Wow. She remembered. No eight year old remembers profound statements from an unknown adult.

“Thank you, Garth.”

“Now why are you thanking me?”

“She looks up to you. Your music, your writing, and your love of it all. Caused issues but she stayed true.”

“Caused issues? How so?”

“Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. But–”

I cut in, “No wait. Caused issues by looking up to me?”

The “Yeah” that comes from her lips is so soft that had I not been staring at them, I never would have known she spoke. “Its over with now. I just wanted you to know how much your words meant to her.”

“I saw it in her eyes. Her face doesn’t always show what she is feeling… but her eyes give her away. Just like yours and because of that, I know it means that Bruce didn’t want her to look up to me. Not good enough and I don’t blame him.”

Looking at the ground, “If that were only it. But Bruce has his show now and we have ours. Piecing things together… slowly.”

I know that she means her life- her life after divorce. Trisha has never been without a male by her side since she was born and I know this is all new, all exciting and all terrifying as hell for her. But she looks good.

“Are you happy here, Trish? That’s all I need to know.”

Her eyes meet mine- completely stare back at me for the first time, “I am happy. Its all very new. Different but I needed a change.”

I nod. I guess that is it then. She was able to look me in the eyes and say that she is happy. I have nothing more here.

“Not that I want you to go, but your name is in black letters for a reason. Don’t want to keep you from rehearsal.”

“Yeah… probably right. Should get moving.” She lets out a heavy sigh. This is hard on both of us. She must be feeling the same thing that I am- we are cheating ourselves again. Cheating ourselves of the time, the openness and the conversation that we deserve. God, a decade ago would we have ever thought we’d be standing here as strangers rather than best friends? I know I never saw it coming. I hope to God that she didn’t either. Days just quickly turn into weeks and those weeks roll right into months… and then those pile up into years… amazing…
I feel very much like those black letter on the billboard- pointless, overlooked and silent. We both lack the light and the electricity to turn heads.

Both too chicken.

I pull her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her tightly, “Enjoy this and though it may not seem like it, I’m here for you whenever. Just call.” I pull back but don’t remove my hands quite yet, instead one brushes that naturally defiant strand of hair from her eyes, “Just promise me one thing sweetie, do what is best for you and that little girl of yours. Please don’t settle anymore… and don’t force yourself to be happy. This is your chance- your time. Shine as bright as this billboard did last night, okay?”

I see a bittersweet look take over her features. She’s not going to cry- I assume she is just trying to deal with the onslaught of images and feelings that those words have created. Words I spoke to her well over a decade ago. The night after her name made it into lights for the first time. What a ride its been.

“I will. Promise.”

“Thank you. Now get. Hate for you to get in trouble because of me.”

She takes my hands from her shoulders and squeezes them tightly before letting go. “Yeah, you’ve gotten me in trouble enough for my lifetime thank you. But please don’t be a stranger… and next time, don’t hide. Love to have dinner or introduce you to the cast.”

Wasn’t hiding. Just wasn’t standing in plain sight- that’s all. Nothing wrong with that. I have no reason to hide. Hell, was standing in the middle of the side walk looking illiterate. That’s not hiding, is it? Just didn’t want to interrupt her new life. No use bringing in some of the old. She told me herself that there was nothing worse in a brand new, completely redone room than the old furniture. That has to apply to people too.

Besides, what would one dinner do anyways? Just distance us further. Just make us realize how little we know about the other anymore. I don’t want that. Would rather be disillusioned I think.

Positive of it.

“Next time, I’ll let ya know. Then you can lead me through this smoggy maze. Do less walking if I didn’t have to backtrack every ten steps.”

She laughs at me and pats my arm, starting to move towards the door. “Very true. Was really… really great seeing you again Garth. Missed you. I always do.” There is the glint, the brief flicker in her eyes that I was looking for. She hasn’t let go of everything. “Besides, Marsha, well lets just say that she is going to flip when I mention that you were at the show and just standing outside stage door. She’s a huge fan of yours cowboy.”

Now there is a sentence for you. Cowboy… just like old times. Yet, the mentioning of a member of her new group. Wants me to meet the cast. Yeah well… do remember a time when I was part of that cast. Johnny, Chris, Steve, Vince… the gang. Okay, I’m bitter. So sue me. I am having an old-fart ‘why did life have to change’ moment and those are allowed on occasions. I get over them. Just takes a moment.

“Well, give her a hug for me and I will try to make it back around soon. And it was great seeing you again.” I lean in and kiss her cheek quickly, “See ya.”

With a small hand gesture, “Bye…” So soft. So final.

She heads towards the doors as a figure catches my eye coming across the street. “Hey hun. Got everything done?”

“I do think so. Even got us some not-so healthy food for the ride. Sorry I’m late. Kath and I just got going and then this lady went off about meeting Garth Brooks while getting coffee… she was rather cute. So had to chat with her.”

“Yeah, met my one New York fan. What’s the odds?”

We both laugh as I place my arm around her and begin the walk down the street. My eye catches a final glimpse of Trish as she disappears behind the metal door. Each step I take, takes me further away from those black, bold and unfeeling letters. Kind of happy to get away.

We reach the corner and while waiting for the sign to state ’walk’, my eyes are diverted up to the giant posters lining the buildings. One states, “For the first time in two decades, Real life mother and daughter take centre stage to tell the tale of love and tragedy with a hope that rises from the ashes.”

Such a good picture of the two of them. The green person flashing and the movement of the crowd forces me to watch where I am going rather than study images from above. The two smile down upon me as we walk along side the building and away from the theatre. Walking away again has to be the eighth one in my life.

I stop and look up one last time. I’m on the curb and am craning my neck. It’s a horrible angle but I see the smiles. ’Hope that rises from the ashes.’

Maybe. If I turn back…

I take the bag from Marie and peek inside as we head towards the hotel.

What the hell… its just one more. No big deal… right?

What’s one more?

“… must leave it up to time.”
~Howard Hawkes
1943


Emotionless. That’s how I feel right now. Emotionless and helpless. I don’t even truly know why I am here. Well, I do. How could I not come? Mrs. Horton is… was… well, she just is Salem. She was everybody’s grandmother, no matter your age. She was timeless. And she was just always suppose to be around.

I took that for granted. This entire freakin’ town took that for granted. We have just always expected her to be there, in the kitchen, ready with some tea and a friendly ear. We took so much from her and rarely gave anything back. Is that how she wanted it? I wonder, did she ever feel unappreciated? And what about me? The jerk who just left. She helped me so much, especially when we were neighbors. Especially when I lost Marlena and had three children to raise. Always there. Always a consummate supporter.

Stepping out of the shadows of the back of the church, I move across the grounds, towards a young lady who is looking mighty small right now. My arms wrap around her and I pull her tightly back against my chest, “How are you doing sweetie?”

I flinch as I feel her hands grip my arm so tightly that her nails are digging into my skin, “I don’t know how to feel right now.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean sweetie.” Sami stays silent and I rest my head upon hers. We both just stare out over the hollow grounds. I watch as people circle her casket slowly, laying flowers, notes or just a comforting hand upon the wood.

“Why do they do that?”

“Do what?”

One hand leaves mine as she points towards the people surrounding the gravesite, “Why do they place a hand on the casket? Its not like Mrs. Horton knows or that you can give her comfort now.”

“I think…” I pause. I was just thinking that same thing myself. Now I need to be parental. “I think it’s more for themselves, rather than Mrs. H. Humans seem to need physical actions, like touching something, for it to be real. They touch the casket not so much to give her peace, but to show themselves that she is, sadly, gone.”

“So they are trying to comfort themselves.”

“Yeah.”

“John, I don’t know what to do without her. I’ve lost so many people. Dealt with mom being taken, then you left, Andrew’s death, now dad is gone and Eric and Carrie have moved away, and now I don’t even have Mrs. H. “

So much information there. So much pain and hurt in such a short life. It’s just not fair. I rub her arms, attempting to give her some sort of comfort, at the very least, let her know that I am here for her. “Sweetheart, I am here for you. I always have been, I hope you know that. And you’re dad, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure. But time, time equals change.” I look down around her, attempting to see a portion of her profile, “I think I gave you that complex.”

“Which?”

“Not liking change.”

“Tell me about it.”

I laugh lightly at her response, but it dies in my throat. “Your mom always handled things as they came, never looked back. Me, however, I was always looking back. Always wondering what if and I never liked things to change. I didn’t like dealing with new situations. Wanted everything and every person to remain one hundred percent the same.”

“Would be nice if it worked that way, huh?”

“I always thought so, but sometimes, change is good. It’s just up to us to find the good in it.”

“And where is the good in this?” I hear the edge creeping into her voice and I know I won’t have a decent response to the logic and the truth and the emotions she is about to dish my way. “Where is the good in Mrs. Horton getting so sick? Suffering for so long, but never letting on. The good in Andrew getting hit by that car? Eric being so sick of home that he ran far away, leaving me behind? Carrie needing space that she left? You ditching us and leaving us to a screwed up life? Mom always so sad and in so much emotional pain?”

Her rant continues, until I finally turn her in my arms and just squeeze the life out of her. I always knew she was hurting, but I wasn’t here, so I didn’t have to look in her eyes and see it all. Easier to convince yourself that life is fine without you, when you don’t have to see the damage first hand. “Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay to cry Samantha. It’s okay to miss her. It’s even okay to be mad.”

She cries into my shirt, I close my eyes and just focus on my skin and how it feels to have her tears soak my shirt. Together we stand. I rock her gently, back and forth, just like I use to do when she was a kid. As she pulls away from me, I kiss her forehead and wipe her cheeks. “I’m going to go find Eric. You… you won’t leave without saying goodbye, right?”

I smile at her hiccups. My God, she looks just like she is seven all over again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She slides me a soft “Thanks” before moving across the grass and towards the crowd of people. I’m not so sure where I should go. I already did my friendly circle earlier today. Said hello, did the small chit chat and I’m sure I’ll be doing some more of it later today. Right now… right now I would just like to sit.

I move down a path and walk around a section of old tomb stones. The years in this section date back to the seventeen-hundreds. Over on the other side of the hill, they date back even further. I move quickly, checking over my shoulder to make sure that nobody is following. The path curves to the left and finally comes to an end by a large Oak Tree.

Standing next to the tree, I allow myself to slide down and simply collapse on the ground. I don’t have the energy to stand anymore. Elbow on knee, I allow my head to lazily lean against my hand as I look at the ground in front of me. I can see the outline because the grass is just a slightly richer shade of green than the surrounding area.

My mind shifts from one thought to another. To time that has gone by to my future. My thoughts mainly shift from nothing at all, to where my life has gone so wrong.

I hear the crunching of grass and sticks and I know who it is. I don’t need to look up, “How did you find me?”

Marlena finishes her journey and takes a seat next to me. “I watched you leave the funeral. Followed the path. Not too many men sitting in random places in the cemetery.” I nod, but say no more. I have nothing to say. “Why are… what made you come here?”

“Spent a lot of time here once. Just didn’t know where else to go.”

She leans forward. I know she is trying to see my face, so I help her out and look her way. I see the confusion. “Why would you spend time here?”

“You don’t know?” Well, this is awkward to say the least. I point towards the brighter green grass, “Um. This is where, uh. Well, when I thought you had been killed, this is where we buried…” Can’t say you. “Your casket.”

That’s lame.

“Oh.” Good response. Her tone and the situation make me laugh. She joins me, “Wow, this is very… weird. Not sure how I feel about such news.”

“I picked it out carefully, in case you are wondering.” She simply looks at me. Her bottom lip drops low, allowing her mouth to hang slightly open and she attempts a response. I laugh rather roughly, “Sorry. Bad joke.”

“You seem to be filled with them today.”

“You’re not still mad about that, are you?”

I turn my head to look at her, well more stare at her. I need to know that I didn’t offend her or make her mad earlier today with my comments. “No, I’m not. It’s just hard, you know? For everybody because you’re…”

Tilting her chin up so that she is looking at me, “I’m what?”

“You’re darker than you use to be.”

“Darker?”

I know my eyebrow rose at that question and I can’t hold back a soft smile as her finger tips gently run over it, “Bitter. Angry. Cynical. Things that you never were before. We all forget time has gone by and that we are all very different people now. They just…” She shrugs to finish off her thought.

“Were taken by surprise. I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep the jokes under control.”

“You’re hurting, it’s understandable. You’re hurting more than anybody here, in some ways.”

“Doc, please. Don’t- don’t try to explain it all away. I rather like the pain. Makes me feel alive.” I see her reaction to that comment and I smile, “No I’m not suicidal. No need to use your shrink skills on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.” Leaning back against the tree, I close my eyes briefly and let a yawn escape my lips. “You only need to use your skills on people who aren’t willing to open up. I’ll tell you anything you want, just not sure you care to hear it all.”

“Such as?”

“Oh no, doesn’t work that way. I don’t just give out my emotional autobiography.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She turns and slides back towards me and the tree. Her body rests half on my shoulder and half against the bark. And we sit. Nothing more really. I’m staring at the place that use to hold a gravestone with her name on it and she is staring off down a well-walked path.

I can’t seem to help the yawns. Been a long couple of days. I got the news of Alice Horton’s death and froze. I can’t imagine a world without such a gifted and wonderful woman in it. Then came the decision of returning or not. How could I not, so I made the right choice, right? If I had stayed behind, what would people have thought? I’ve only been back here a handful of times in the past thirteen years. Didn’t plan on returning again until next year, for Sami’s graduation.

Amazing how life is never on your side. It always has its own agenda. I hemmed and hawed over the decision and finally caught the last possible plane at the last possible moment. Still not sure if I regret coming or not. Been too weird. Everybody staring at me. Everybody asking the same three questions and I still have no good answer to any of them. I’m not suppose to be the centre of attention.

Everything is just so fucked up.

“Looks like you need a nap.”

“I’m halfway there.”

“I do want to thank you for coming. For… for dealing with me this morning and with Sami. This has been hard on her.”

“On you both. On the town really.”

I feel her head nod, but I still can’t convince myself to open my eyes. That will just take too much energy. “Yeah, she has had a wonderful life and she definitely deserves the rest. It just won’t be the same without her. We will all make so many mistakes without her perfect advice.”

“Oh, she’ll still be giving it out. We just need to listen harder now.”

“True. John,”

“Yeah?”

“About before, I really am grateful. I didn’t mean to break down like that.”

My hand moves towards her and after a moment of fumbling, I locate her leg and give it a comforting squeeze. “It seemed like you needed to do that long ago.”

“Perhaps, I just didn’t have a shoulder to do it on.”

“So it’s true, about Roman? He really has jumped ship?”

Marlena tucks her legs up under her chin, causing my hand to fall off and I’m unsure whether or not I should replace it. For now I let it sit on the ground, feeling the overly dried out dirt. “Old news.”

“How old?”

“Well, he basically moved out about two years ago, just before we ran into each other in Oklahoma. But for years before that, he was never home and before that, when he was home, we would just argue or ignore each other.”

“Wh… you… fuck.” That’s about all I have this afternoon. I had no idea. All this time and I didn’t have a clue. Ain’t that just shitty? My eyes open and I readjust myself slightly, so that I can get a look at her, “You never said anything.”

“John, this is my third time seeing you in thirteen years, when would we have had this chat? Besides, I figured the kids were telling you everything.”

“And you think that that kind of news wouldn’t have received some type of response from me?”

“Well, I just sent him the papers a few months back. We were married, he just choose not to be a part of the marriage anymore. And well, that was okay with me.”

“Okay with you? What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” She buries her face in her hands and lets out a harsh breath, “I can’t explain it, I just felt that way. Fell out of love or just wasn’t getting what I needed. I really don’t know and once the kids were all off on their own, I just decided it was time to refocus.”

“So have you, refocused?”

“Mentally, yes.” She looks over at me and gives me the most adorable, yet wicked smile I have ever seen, “I just haven’t physically done anything. Easier to think it, than to act it out, right?”

“So what is it that the good doctor wants?”

“Have you ever thought about moving back to Salem?”

“Just about everyday since I left, why?”

She pushes off of my shoulder to stand up. I watch as she wipes off her butt and I don’t have the heart to tell her that the dirt smudge will need a little more help than a light swat to be removed. But Marlena is nervous and I am not quite sure why. My heart is pounding a little faster, anticipating something. Just not sure what that might be.

Turning her back to me, I stare at her and wait, until finally she speaks, “You mentioned earlier to somebody about rewriting the past and I have spent so many nights attempting to do that. And I realized that you can’t rewrite it, it’s already written into time and the only thing that I can do, is try to write a better future. And this morning, I thought I saw you out in the church yard, over by the gardens.” She laughs and turns to look at me, “At the time I thought I was going mad, but when I heard your voice and watched you do that manly hit and hug movement with Abe, I realized what I needed. Are we…”

She’s crying. When did that happen? I quickly move to my feet and pull her into my arms. She doesn’t hesitate. Just like earlier today, she so easily melted into me and allowed me to comfort her. Sometimes, some feelings I guess will never change. No matter how much time and how many miles separate us. Rubbing her back, “What is this about?”

“Oh John…” I’ve missed that. I kiss her hair and wait for her to calm down. Her crying isn’t hysterical by any means, just constant tears and a slight hiccup. “Are we going to do this the rest of our lives?”

I allow her to pull back slightly, but I don’t let her go, “Do what?”

I hate making her say it, but I’m not positive that we are talking about the same thing, “Dance around each other? Are we going to keep allowing fate to bump us together for ten minutes every couple of years and do nothing about it? Someday one of us will be showing up to the other’s funeral. I don’t want to be a stranger, a friend from the past.”

“Doc, what is…” I was going to ask what this is all about, but I know. I’m not stupid. I have been thinking the same things, “I dunno.” That is my honest answer.

“Are we hopeless?”

“There is always hope Doc. We’ve just got to try harder. I’ll visit more and you can come out to London to see me. I don’t know, start a tradition or something. Take the kids and we will all meet up somewhere, rent a cabin.” I sound like some horrid B Movie right now.

And she isn’t buying a damn word of it, “John, we know that won’t happen. Look at us, two years went by without a word. You sneak around to see the kids and I never call. Haven’t you ever truly wanted to try again? Fix some mistakes? Sit down and really talk things out, perhaps… well try again.”

“Yeah. Honestly, you bet I have thought about it. Imagined it. Dreamed it and recreated it so many times that some mornings I wake up and can’t be sure if it happened or not. But Doc, I can’t go back.”

“I’m not asking you to. I want to try to heal some of the past, but move forward. Move on. Find that better future.”

I close my eyes and try so hard not to laugh, but it doesn’t seem to be working. “Doc, this isn’t some cheesey romance movie, this is real life.”

“John, don’t be cruel.”

“I’m not, dear God, I’m not trying to be. But listen to yourself. Listen to me. We are trying to live the ending to any romantic film or Broadway musical. It’s not real.”

“Why can’t it be?”

“Because, as I said, I can’t go back.”

Now she is getting angry. I can see her eyes grow dark, “And I am not asking you to! I don’t know if I made a mistake back then. I don’t know if I had chosen the other way that things would have worked out better. I don’t know anything, I can’t fix it and I am finally coming to grips with that. Roman never could. I finally am. John-“ She pulls at my shoulder, trying to get me to turn around, “Look at me John. Why can’t we try?”

“Because that was a long time ago. Too much has happened, too many feelings gone or lost.”

“I’m not talking about falling into bed with each other-“

“No, that would be the easy part.”

Her glare stops me cold, “Stop trying to hide behind your cynicism. This is our chance, to try and right some of the bad feelings we have created. We could simply start by becoming friends again. See what there is left.”

“I can’t do it Marlena.”

“You won’t even try?”

“I can’t come back here. I finally did exactly what you asked of me, I finally found a home. I moved back to my little cottage with neighbors that I know and look out for me. Have this little lady who brings me over a pie and tomatoes every Tuesday. I’ve searched too long for some sort of peace to give that up.” I move towards her, lean down and give her a soft kiss on her cheek. I can feel her tears mixing with a few of my own. I whisper “I’m sure you understand” into her ear, before I step around her. She attempts to hold me there, by hooking her finger into the belt loop of my pants, but finally she lets go and I walk away.

One step in front of the other. I move back up the path, leaving her there with the brighter green grass in the faded outline of a grave. I should regret this action. Maybe I will someday, but for right now, I don’t.

It was a nice idea though.

I don’t regret anything about this moment as I head back up towards the church. It’s a mere matter of time. Life is about time. Healing is about time.

It’s all about time.


A swift morning jog, does a body good, right? Or so the doc has been lecturing me. Always wonder if he lectures everybody as routine or if he truly feels that I need to move my fat ass around a bit more. Having just a few problems believing this because it gets moved a hell of a lot – and I use to work out often – haven’t been out of it that long to totally fall out of shape. Plus business keeps me moving. Not too many couch sitting days. Not too many bags of chips while couch sitting.

Yet, I’m out running. One week after the lecture I am out here running. Must mean I know deep down I’ve had one or two bags too many these last couple months. Fearful that I won’t fit in a single plane seat anymore, if my ass gets any larger. Would make running after them harder, that’s for sure. Need to learn how to be more on time.

So why today? Not really sure. Use to jog daily. Same path. Same time. With the same omelet at the end. Was a religious thing before work each day. Friends would show up along the path to chat or catch me if something had come up and even occasionally a certain blonde would come out and play. Never a pleasant thing for her. Always took a little bit a blackmailing. Always swore she hated to run but never seemed to mind it much once we began to move. Chat about life and joke about the people sitting around staring at us, looking gorgeous in all our sweaty, unkempt manner.

Man, it’s those types of things that I miss the most.

Then at the end, like the end of every run in Salem, Aunt Mav’s Breakfast for all hours diner. “Cheese eggs, butter and traditional black coffee. Nothing fancy.” I’m mocking her. She isn’t even present and I am mocking her. And out loud even! Pathetic how trivial things are remembered. Can’t recall what I ate last Monday while having dinner with Dave and yet, I remember her eggs from days gone by. Just been so long since I’ve done this. Yet, I can remember the fact that she wore orange Nike shorts on our last run together. My last run period.

That day had been hot. Shit, was it ever hot. The walk to the car alone created a sweat. I arrived at the beginning to see her pull up next to me. Totally forgot I had invited her. Not like me to forget but God, that week had been shitty. Everything went wrong. With everything going on with her and Roman and myself, I was already overloaded and Sami and Eric had ‘run away,’ so to speak, to my place again. That never went over well. With my job switch, well I just hated my job in the beginning. Loved being a cop and then that was just taken out from underneath me and my business partners wanted my full attention then. Should have said ‘fuck you’ back then- kept all that under control. It all just got out of hand. Who knew my job would end up running my life.

Well, I guess it’s not like I really had that much of a life to worry about.

But it had just been a horrible week. Things were falling apart daily and being removed from the cop shop, I thought at the time, was the final straw. So I needed to run. So I invited my running partner along. I didn’t really expect her to say yes and I never really thought she would show up. We had run into each other in Salem Square, got into the small talk and it came out as a polite offer, rather than a serious one.

Orange shorts and a white t-shirt with the same colour orange within the design. Was a t-shirt for some Women’s Walk something or other. Her hair tied back with a few pieces sticking to her forehead. “Yeah, remember it.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep moving. One foot and then the other. Around the corner.

I’m so out of shape. Never had to talk myself into motion during the beginning miles.

Tried those exercise bikes, but couldn’t stand it. Had it about 48 hours and just couldn’t deal with it any longer. Honestly that’s because I almost fell off the first time and then it was just so boring. So weights it was. A nice morning and night routine of weights. Why am I running again? Why the same old routine as a decade ago? God, has it really been that long? Eleven years. Give or take a day. Eleven. My God…

But why now? Dunno. Just woke up and it seemed like a thing to do. Could simply answer that the quack told me to run but that would be a cheap shot.

A sigh escapes and I’m continuing on down the path. I know the answer. It’s in me, just why think it? Thinking it brings it to reality and well, reality bites. Who gives a shit about reality anymore. Well, I guess the world with all these God-damn reality TV shows but that’s not the same.

Pretty busy out today. People seem to be everywhere – like it like this because then usually I can just fall into the crowd without a fuss. Wow, that sounded arrogant. Like I’m some big movie star and need to hide from my adoring fans. I do need to hide, but I don’t have fans, just a dozen ninety year old women who have decided I’m too cute, yet too pitiful and therefore, need them to look after me. It’s a small place and sooner or later I will have to pass one of them in this park and they will get on the horn and let everybody else know, so they will start to cook and meet me at the finishing line- my house. And then they will proceed to stay and talk to me like I am twelve and tell me all about how I need to get out and find a sex life.

Just what you want to hear from a group of grandmothers. Helps my ego. I tell ya.

I do appreciate all their help and even their company. Hell, I even appreciate them trying to fix me up with every available and sometimes not available female in England, but on my first day out here in over a decade, trying to get my fat ass to move it down the path at a rather slow pace, I don’t feel like having people ogle. Perhaps in a few weeks. Get the muscles perked up, a firmer ass and then wear a skimpy outfit like the playboy over there.

Ha… shit that would be the day. Perhaps a tank-top next time. Not that. I would get a fuckin’ wedgey in those.
I seem to be a shitty old man who once use to be happy and popular. Can popularity make you happy? According to Barbara Walters it can. According to me, not completely. Helps but if you lack happiness in daily life… you can’t live through them. Just like they can’t live through you. Happiness… its all relative.

Roller bladers everywhere. Dangerous and uncaring teens on roller blades. Deadly for me. These definitely were not around back then. Just runners and walkers. Life was just much simpler in many ways back then. Would love to go back… back to the simple time and the fun life. A time when I enjoyed it all. Just something thrilling rather than something I do. A time when I had it all. Hell, a time when I wasn’t so “alone.”

Damn, let the word slip out and I see the lady turn quickly to look at me as I pass. Yes, a moron who is talking to himself. Happens. Even to John Black. Alert the presses that he has gone insane. Imaginary friend. I should have brought music. Something to listen to. Perhaps put some of those CDs that Sami sent and that are currently lining the floor onto my IPod and bring that along. But nah, I would get distracted, not pay attention to the song. Then would slip and tell her that I listened to them and fail her constant quizzing. Still I need something. Thinking to yourself is quite dull.

Running along a path. Running past people. Running past ducks. It’s all the same. Nothing has changed. The duck poop still lines the pathway, hot women run with barely any clothes on, you try not to be too noticeable on your double take, kids are screaming in the park and old people still line the streets, sitting on their porches. I’ve now become a part of their morning ritual. Go me.

I turn a corner sharply and try desperately not to bump into a woman or the garbage can. As my hip comes into contact with the metal can, I wince and swear at myself to start remembering to take wider turns while downtown.

“I’m so sorry. You okay?”

“You didn’t hit me, so I should be asking you that question.”

I just got looked over. And I do believe that she is impressed by what she sees and well, pretty sure that I’m blushing. I can feel the heat and it isn’t just from the sun. Wow, I have been off the market so long that I can’t handle being looked at like a piece of meat anymore. I should be proud she even bothered.

Giving her the John Black smile, I nod slightly and reply, “I’m just fine, but will be keeping a better eye out… for people that is, from now on.” A ‘bye’ slips through my lips as I begin to run again, but my step is a little stiff. Hit that thing a little harder than I had expected.

I mumble out “Shit” and rub my hip as I begin to pick up my step, but quickly stop as my shoe comes untied. Bending over, I begin to quickly retie it.

“So did you get her number Sailor?”

I freeze. I can’t even manage to look up.

I can see her silhouette against the wall and I try to smile. But instead, I’m just shocked into silence.

“Hard way to pick up a lady. May just want to attempt the old ‘Hey how are you?’ trick. Less painful.”

“Well, you know what they say, doctors know best.” I stand up and finally the grin has spread across my entire face. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you or anything, but…” I gesture around and can’t help but laugh slightly, “This can’t be just another coincidence.”

She slides the tips of her fingers into her shorts’ pockets, her head dips down, yet she looks up at me through her bangs, “You don’t think that I just happened to stumble upon this quaint little town while I was on vacation and just happened to run into you here on the street?”

My eyebrows go up in typical Black fashion and together we burst out laughing at the absurdity. It’s been a while since I have let out a truly heartfelt laugh.

“Guess I am outed. Went by your house and your nice neighbor told me where I could find you. Run often?”

“Well yeah… sure… this is my first time.” Again we laugh. For some reason, there is little awkwardness in this meeting. It is flowing so much better than the others. So much easier. We’ve almost reached another year with barely a glance at each other. But finally, time is just fading away and I am not so scared of it. I’m content.

She’s staring at me and I give her a questioning look. Not sure why she is looking at me that way. “You do seem very content.” Whoa, where did that come from? But she simply smiles knowingly. “You got that far-off look and suddenly decided to inform me that you are content. And I agree with that. However, should I take that as a hint?”

“What kind of hint?”

“That perhaps I should leave. Though your neighbor would be crushed if I did.” Now she is nervous. I made her that way without ever meaning to, “She has already invited me over for cake and coffee and to a picnic Thursday. Definitely a friendly little place you found here.”

“Marlena… Doc… hold up. Slow down.” I step forward to allow a shopper to pass by. “I’m glad to see you and Mrs. H’s cake is incredible. But beware, it won’t be an intimate little gathering. But… first… up for a run?”

She looks it. No purse. Shorts and a tank top and man, she is definitely looking good. About time I let that thought slip through. “Uh. I dunno.”

“Come on. I’ll race ya back.” I grab her hand and begin to take off. One step after another. I take it easy for the both of us, but she seems to be staying up with no problem at all.

Could my life be any more messed up? This can’t be normal. Honestly, it can’t be.

We run in silence. Her hand should have slipped from mine by now, but instead she keeps her fingers entwined with mine, as we run down Hidden Pond road… or is it lane? Always wondered if it truly matters. I guess it could because there could be a Hidden Pond Lane, Hidden Pond Road, and a Hidden Pond Circle for all I know. Then again, I still have yet to figure out the postal system here. I’m told it’s the same as the US, yet I can’t figure it out. Wonder if that means I don’t actually understand the US one either.

I tug lightly on her hand to show her that we are about to turn at the corner. Around the corner and down the street and I can already see the ladies on their porches waiting for me, well I think they are more waiting for Marlena and to see what I do. The gossip lines are busy as hell today, I am sure. Think they’ve needed something juicy to talk about and it might as well be me who gives it to them.

Before I can realize what is happening, I feel Marlena let go of my hand and race in front of me, yelling out “Race ya!”

“What the…” I laugh and take off after her. “Get back here.” I haul ass after her. God, she must run now because she is just booking it. I side step a large crack on the sidewalk and concentrate on catching up to her.

Left. Right. Left. Right. I lean forward and my arm comes out and I quickly hook it around her waist, lift her slightly off the ground, and use our momentum to spin her. We both laugh, though hers comes out more of a giggle than a true laugh, as we desperately attempt to catch our breaths. “Damn woman, I am too old for this shit.”

“Didn’t do too badly for an old timer.” I put her back on her feet. Hands on my hips, I bend over to catch my breath. In and out. In and out. I watch the grass sway lightly in the breeze and know that the moment will come when I have to look up and start a conversation… start? Or continue? I don’t know which really. Sooner or later I’ll have to open up with the cheesey ‘So what brings you here?’ question and all that.

But I’d rather do that when I can breath. When we don’t have an audience. And when I have something sugary in front of me. Pie it is.

I look up and flash her a quick smile before I start to move. I tug on her shirt real quick to make sure that she moves with me. “Mrs. H and Mrs. N… you adorable ladies wouldn’t by any chance have a nice slice of pie for my friend here and myself, would you?”

“Oh well…” Mrs. H smiles down the porch towards her friend and continues to rock in her chair, “Well Doreen, did we bake anything this morning?”

“Well, no, I don’t think we did.”

Clutching my heart, I put on my fake puppy dog look and go to work, “Oh ladies, loves of my life, you wound me. You two not bake? That’s a crime against humanity.”

“Oh well dear… we may have made something… perhaps from those apples that you brought over yesterday.” I can feel Marlena’s eyes shift towards me and I have a feeling that an accusing ‘John’ is about to slip through her lips, but Mrs. H saves me by talking to her first. “You see dear, our Johnny here brings us things all the time. Fruits and vegetables for pies and such and flowers and candies. He really is too good to us.”

“Yes, he flies in things from all over. Sent to America to get us strawberries even.” They both give me that proud grandmother look that just makes me smile- dimples and all. And I’m okay with that because these two ladies… well they are more or less my new Mrs. Horton. Not that anybody could truly replace that Mrs. H., but I need somebody to keep an eye on me, right? They are still talking away to Marlena and I’ve lost the jist of the conversation, “… eats right that boy. When we moved here, the first time that is, he was just wasting away. Patty and I were really concerned about him- about him taking good care of himself, so we would check in. Fatten him up.”

“And then he left.”

Mrs. N. gives Mrs. H. that all-knowing nod. The one that is supposedly filled with so much intellect and insight, but I think you need to be really old before it all comes to you. “That’s right. One day he just up and left and just as suddenly, he was back. Went over to welcome the new neighbor and were shocked-“

“Pleasantly so of course.”

Another nod, “Of course, to see that it was him. Again, he was as thin as a board and again, we had to fatten him up. Meat and potatoes is the way.”

I hear a slight giggle before I realize that I’m being patted on my stomach, “Yes, I think you ladies have been doing a fine job.”

Grabbing her hand, I glare at Marlena, “Excuse me Doc? I’m in perfect shape, as always.”

Mrs. H. to my rescue. “Oh yes, deary. He runs. He does eat a lot but we see him working out and running and everything. One would have to, the way he eats. A strong appetite shows a good man. Don’t you agree dear?”

“Uh, sure, yeah I guess so.” Marlena gives me an unsure look and I just simply nod. What else should I do?

“Do you cook dear?”

Mrs. N., such a sweet lady, but tends to always ask the most obvious, yet wrong questions. I do love her for it though. “Uh…” Again she looks at me, as if she wishes me to save her from some vicious lion. “No, ma’am. I actually don’t cook… much.”

“No? Oh my, don’t have the time? That seems to be the thing these days. Never the time, always in a rush. Like Johnny, always in and out. Never a spare moment to just sit and enjoy a beautiful morning like today.”

“I do agree with you there, Mrs. H. But no, I’m just rather bad at it.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

She nods and smiles up at the porch, “So I am told, but I never seemed to improve and finally I didn’t have anymore people willing to be practiced upon. Even my children. They would all run or kick me out of the kitchen.”

“Well, what about Johnny? Johnny, you’d let her practice right?”

Ut-Oh, now I am in trouble. I look down at the grass, as if that will help the question go away, or the smirk that is so apparent on Doc’s face. “Yeah, Johnny… you’d let me, right?”

“Oh sure.” I flash some dimples at the ladies and hope to step out of this one, “I have always been a strong supporter of her practicing. Offer my help and everything.”

“Bologna!”

“What?”

She points a finger at me, and I can’t help the laughs that are coming forth, “When we were married, you use to barricade the door, literally, so I couldn’t get in. Had that time where you didn’t let me in for weeks, so don’t go all innocent and helpful now. Oh don’t you shake your head John Black, you told me that take-out was invented to help people like me.”

That’s it, the laughter is full force now. I did tell her that and I did mean it. I still do mean it. Some people can’t hit a baseball to save their lives and some people can’t cook to save theirs.

“Married?”

Laughter stops. Shit. Doc looks at me and I shrug. “Uh, yeah Mrs. H and Mrs. N. Marlena and I were married for a few years, a long time ago.”

“What happened? You two still seem so close and well, Johnny’s spoken so much about you.”

I jump in before anybody else can say another word, “Well ladies, that’s a rather long story that I’ll have to fill you in on someday, but right now, I really need to clean up. Pie and tea chat later this afternoon?”

They nod their understanding in unison, “You know where to find us, son.”

“That I do. Enjoy the rest of the morning ladies.”

“Dear, make sure you join us as well. We’d love to get to know you a little better.”

Marlena raises a hand to wave goodbye, as she nods and sends out a soft, “Of course” and wishes both ladies a pleasant morning and I think thanks them for something.

Walking towards my house, I think it finally dawns on me what is about to come. I’m out of distractions and can no longer bide-my-time. Walking in first, I hold the door open for her to take and then move straight to the kitchen. My safe zone. Opening the frig, I look inside and focus on the different containers of liquid. I reach for one and then change my mind and begin to reach for another. “Do you want something to drink?”

“John-“

“I have orange juice or I could make you some tea. Don’t think I have any hot chocolate, but can l—“

“John, please.” She steps up to the frig and closes the door, “I think we need to talk or well…” She looks down, suddenly unsure of herself it would seem, “I would like to talk. Since I’m the one who is suddenly invading your territory without notice.”

“Doc, you know you are always welcomed.”

“Am I?”

I can’t help it, it’s too natural for me not to lift my hand up and cup her cheek, “Yes you are. If nothing else, you will always be my best friend.”

“You honestly meant that when you said it.” I know the expression drops from my face in horror. She thought I was lying? She reaches up to pat my hand before removing it from her cheek and holding it tightly, “I didn’t think you were lying John. Just that, well that you were more saying it out of politeness and you said it over ten years ago- there has to be a time limit on promises.”

“No. Not that one.” She smiles at me and I can’t take any of this anymore. My head is spinning. Outside, running, it was so natural. Normal. I didn’t think, I just reacted, but right now my mind is so jumbled that I don’t know what to do with it. And the only way, I think, this will get better is to start off blunt. Now just have to say the words.

I step back from her and reach behind me to rub my neck. Who knew this would be so hard. “Marlena… Doc… why are you here?”

“I’m here because of something Sami said… and something you said. I’m here so I can move on with my life. So we both can.”

“What makes you think that I haven’t moved on?” She gives me that knowing look and I know she is about to challenge me, so instead I cross my arms and leans back against my counter, “Okay, so I haven’t. So what is going to help us?”

“Sami said, well more yelled at me actually…” She takes in a deep breath and I know she is attempting to organize her story. “Sami and I were talking and you came up and we had a fight.”

“About me?”

“Well kind of but not totally. Was just a lot of stuff. And she mentioned that at Alice’s funeral you told her that I know how to deal with things and move on, while you are always stuck in the past.”

“I did tell her that. I’ve always envied you for that.”

She nods and moves to the other side of my kitchen. At first I thought she was going to sit, but now it seems like she is just moving for the sake of moving. “See, I never thought I dealt with anything. Instead I just moved on.”

“Either way, your life went forward and mine just stood still.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it though? At least part of it?”

“No.”

“John… be honest. You were honest to Sami. I know she is still your little girl, so if you can be honest with her, why not me?”

“I couldn’t move on because of you.” I turn to grab a glass and fill it with water. I know she is just going to wait and listen. I’m okay with that. Four deep swallows later, I stare out at my small side yard and think through what I want to say. Instead, I decide to stop thinking and just go for it. We may finally get somewhere if we stop tip-toeing around it all.

“I don’t think you truly knew how much I was hurting. How trapped I was in the past. I’m not saying you didn’t have some kind of feelings throughout that whole mess. I know you did. I know it was hard on you, but you had a life, a husband, kids and a focus. You could move on. It was all staring at you in the face and I’m sure it was hard, but you, as I said, had a life. You had to get up in the morning for the kids. Had Roman there pushing you in a direction. And occasionally you’re mind would allow you to wonder what if. That’s all my mind did and I just became more bitter and more isolated. I didn’t have a purpose for waking up.”

“Sure you did.”

“What did I have to wake up for Doc?” After a few moments of silence, I turn around to look at her fallen face. She had finally let herself realize what life was like for me. No walls or shitty inspirational speeches. Just harsh reality.

“See? I think you are finally seeing. I was the unknown John Black all over again, but even that wasn’t so hard. When I came to Salem I had no memories of a past, so I felt empty but I had something to search out. And I didn’t have any memories to cry over. Returning to John Black meant I wasn’t Roman and suddenly I had all these memories that I had no right to have, but I wanted them. I loved you and those kids more than any one man could. I needed you guys for an identity and then you were gone. And I was forced to remember, forced to feel the pain, and the want everyday of my life afterwards.”

“It was almost like a death…” I look at her but don’t stop her. “What you just said, its how I felt after I lost DJ and Don. What I felt after I thought Roman had died and before I found you. You don’t want to wake up because then you have to deal with reality. You have to remember and live with it and it’s just so painful.”

I nod. And then smile because she is finally understanding.

Marlena moves a few steps in my direction, but stops and leans against the wall. “When Sami told me that, I began thinking. I tried to imagine. I… I’m sorry. I just never let myself truly imagine the hell you were in, the loss you suffered because I was trying to convince myself that you would move on easily. But instead, you left. It was… is so confusing. When you were around, I just wanted you to disappear. Seeing you meant I had to think about you, I had to love you and dream about you and I couldn’t do that. I just couldn’t. But when you left, I was so pissed because you abandoned me. And it was that day, that day when Abe told me you had left that I realized there would never be an us. It was over.”

“I had to go. I have always hoped that you realized that. I wanted to be there for you, everyday be there, even as your friend but I couldn’t. I had to leave because…” I don’t know where to look right now. “I had to because I never wanted to end up hating you.”

“I knew. I know.”

I hold open my arms, “Come here.” Seems that was all she needed to hear, because the distance between us disappears and I can’t help but surround her. I’m trying desperately not to squeeze her too tightly, but the moment I feel the tears, my grip tightens. “Shh… its okay Doc. We’ll be just fine.”

She nods, but that doesn’t stop the tears. Eleven years of emotions are finally coming out and I don’t know whether to be relieved or scared shitless. “So now that we have this going…” My nose is buried in her hair and I am not sure if she can understand a word I am saying, but I refuse to move. “would hate to stop if you had something else to say.”

What I get is silence and just a tighter hold on my waist. I’m fine with that. I’m very fine with just standing here, in my kitchen, holding a major piece of my past.

Time passes and then I hear a small voice, so I kiss the side of her head and listen, “I thought about what you said… at the funeral. About… about how you finally found your place. I could see it in your eyes that you were finally happy. There was a light there that I hadn’t seen in our other run-ins. I was so happy for you… I am so happy.” She pulls back from me, but not far, “I realized that I had been asking you to come back to your past. Everytime we met up, I was trying to get you to return, I was praying you would come save me.”

“I didn’t know you needed saving.”

She smiles rather sheepishly and I can’t help but think she is adorable. I love that grin, “I don’t think I did. I think… I was being lazy. Scared and lazy and wanted you to fix it, knowing that was impossible. I was asking the impossible, because Salem is your past and you never really got the chance to say goodbye. To end things there and asking you to come back was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I asked. I’m sorry for making you choose. And I’m sorry for any headaches and… heartaches that it caused. But…” She stops suddenly and smiles. And therefore, I am really confused. “I realized that I could leave. I could tie up loose ends and make the move.”

I freeze. I can’t feel anything. I can’t think. I can’t react. I’m just… just… hell I don’t even know that. “Make what move?”

My reaction must please her because she is still smiling, “Here. If you’ll let me. Well, not here here. I’ll find a place, near-by if you’d like. We can get to know each other, you can show me your town, the kids will come visit… the kids… I know I’m asking a lot right now and throwing so much at you… but-“

“They need me. I know that, Doc and they know that I am here for them. You don’t have to worry.”

“Oh I don’t. So, is this an okay thing? I’m not here to make things harder and I’m not here to make up the past. I need somebody in my life and for a long time, that has been you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. I’m hoping there is a place for me in your present… and your future.” Her smile seems to be growing with each word, “Besides, it’s about time that you feel what its like to be pursued.”

“Oh really Dr. Evans. And what is the first step to this pursuance?”

That laugh. There is that laugh. Thank God for that laugh. “Well first we have tea and pie next door, then I was thinking dinner. Know of a place?”

“Oh I can think of a few… what about right here? Order out, eat it in.”

I watch her hips move with each step towards me. It’s so great to see her this relaxed and in love with life again. A finger runs down my chest and I’m too busy watching it to realize that she is talking, until I hear a certain word from the past, “Well sailor, I think I’ve got myself a date.”

Soft lips. Her taste. Oh man… I’ve died and I don’t want to leave wherever this is.

Pulling away, “To starting over?”

She shakes her head and kisses me quickly, “No, I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to hide anything or pretend. The past happened and I want to take it along with us. We just have to begin from here. Bring all the baggage with us”

My kitchen, for the first time, is filled with laughter and I can’t believe I have lived this long without it. Cupping her face in my hands, I whisper an “Okay” against her lips and vow, no more regrets.