“Scars are souvenirs you never lose. The past is never far”
~Name, Goo Goo Dolls
There’s beauty in a lot of things in this world: the first time your child smiles at you, a beautiful spring morning, falling in love for the first time. Tonight, although the spring breezes waft gently through my balcony doors and allow me to breath the sweetest air I maybe ever smelled, I can’t help but feel defeated by all the world has offered me lately.
I rise from the couch in my living room and walk to the mirror. I carefully take my shirt off and turn sideways allowing myself to gaze at the tattoo that was branded on my skin long ago. It was nothing more than a scar to me, a reminder of the past and all the pain it once caused. But tonight, as I stare at this symbol that defines who I once believed I was, I realize that the past isn’t really the past. The things we try so hard to push aside and leave behind are usually the ones that will haunt us for the rest of our lives.
I hear the elevator doors open outside of my home and I sigh, not wishing to see my wife at the moment. I’m relieved to know she’s alive and as much as I love her, the pain of the last few weeks is something that no one can understand except myself. She loves me, I know she does, she always has, and maybe that is what makes this so hard. She came to me when I was nothing and loved me before we found out that I was her husband. When things changed and we found out I wasn’t, she still loved me like never before. She couldn’t share in it the same way, she couldn’t tell me when I know she wanted to, but the feelings were still there. We fell in love all over again years later and this time I cherished every moment I had with her. I memorized her face every night, the way she’d smile at me when she didn’t think I was looking, the way she breathed when she slept, so soft and peaceful as if her dreams were nothing but perfect.
Only weeks ago, the truth we had come to rely on was once again turned upside down. I had been on the island for only a couple of days when Roman came to our home. He looked deliriously happy and neither Marlena nor myself could understand why, after all, we were stuck in a place away from our children and those that we loved. He sat us down, unable to hide the smirk on his lips and broke the news to us that has forever changed my life. The Roman who had come back on that summer morning Marlena and I were to be married was nothing more than an imposter, created by the man who had destroyed our lives countless times before; Stefano DiMera. In return, he revealed the news that I was in fact the real Roman Brady and I had been since the moment he had met Marlena.
I should have been excited, I know Marlena was. But the truth is, I wasn’t. I’m not happy to know that the only life I can remember has all been a lie. I’m not happy to know that the life I have built means nothing.
So as I hear the key in the lock from outside, I quickly put my shirt on and sit back down on the couch, opening up a magazine that doesn’t interest me in the least, but provides distraction. When the door opens, I don’t look up despite my best efforts. I can smell her perfume overpowering my senses and I feel as if I’m going to choke.
“When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am”
~Iris, Goo Goo Dolls
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hi.”
“I just came from Brady’s. He and Belle would really love to see you.”
She sits down next to me and I can’t help but shift my position further away from her. I love my wife more than anything in this world, but I refuse to hurt her anymore than I already have. She notices the distance but respects me enough to stay where she is.
“Did you tell them?” I ask, unable to look at her.
“It wasn’t my place too and I’m not going to. But you have to tell them something.”
For the first time since she has walked in the door, I turn to look at her. She’s as beautiful as the day I met her, if not more so. Her hair has changed throughout the years, but its smell has remained, a smell that reminds me of early mornings and passionate lovemaking. It smells of our favorite aphrodisiac and I cringe when I realize that began when I was first Roman.
“What am I supposed to tell them, Marlena? Am I supposed to tell Belle that she dated her first cousin for three years? Do I tell Brady that his last name is the same as his first? How do you think Sami is going to accept this fact? She hates me, Marlena.”
“She doesn’t hate you–”
“Yes, Marlena. She does.”
Marlena takes my hand, her palm soft. She looks into my eyes, hazel meeting blue and I can’t help but melt at how simply gorgeous she is.
“John …” She cringes, squeezing my hand inadvertently. “Roman.”
I give her a half smile. “You don’t even know what to call me.”
“I’ll call you whatever you want me too!” She answers, firmly. She was always the strongest one in this marriage. She was the survivor. “I need you to talk to me, sweetheart.”
I almost have to smile again that she has resorted to calling me sweetheart since neither of us know exactly what name I should be using. “Marlena, I’m not ready to talk–”
“I know how hard this is for you but we are in this marriage together. I will not allow you to do this to me. More importantly, I won’t allow you to do this to yourself.”
I look at her again and I can feel the tears I try so desperately to hide pooling in my already weary eyes. I move closer to her and I give in, allowing my head to cradle her shoulder. She wraps her arms around me, kissing my forehead with such ease that I can’t help but allow the tears to fall.
“Doesn’t this bother you at all?”
Marlena looks at me, gliding her fingers across my cheek to wipe the tears. It’s a gesture I have done to her numerous times, a sign that our marriage really does go both ways.
“It bothers me that I’ve been lied to for all these years,” she responds, honestly, “but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Do you remember what I first told you when we met?” I shake my head although I have a feeling I know what she is talking about. “I told you that I don’t care what your name is. I didn’t care if you were Stefano, I didn’t care that I had only known you for days. I trusted you with my life. I still do and I always will.”
I nod my head and take hold of her hand. “You know what bothers me the most about this?”
“No. What?”
“That in all of this, I’m worried about what you think the most. I’m worried that all of this is going to become too much and you’re going to leave me.”
“John,” she whispers and I can’t help but allow her voice to arouse me, “I’d never leave you. I don’t care what your name is and I never have. I’ve always known who you are.”
“Oh yeah? Mind filling me in?”
She sits back against the couch and smiles. I’ve seen this smile before. I know she is remembering our past and all it once offered. She runs her finger along my cheek and folds her legs underneath her, moving closer to me. I can smell the soap she has used earlier that morning, something from Bath and Body Works that Belle had left behind before leaving for school.
“You are the man who came to Paris and searched every crevice until you found me. You are the man who sat on death row and wrote me a letter declaring just how much you loved me. You are the man who paid $100,000 for one single dance.”
“I’m a man,” I say carefully, “who still has no name.”
“Hope is somewhere ahead, shining brightly, but the past is always following close behind”
~One Light Burning, Richie Sambora
She sighs deeply. “Let me ask you something.” I nod, allowing her to continue. “What do you want to be called?”
If I knew this wouldn’t be a problem. I rub my finger over my eyebrow and gaze out the window, almost wishing to go back to the heat of the island I was on only days ago.
“That’s the thing. Even if I keep my name, it doesn’t change the fact that Belle and Shawn are cousins. It doesn’t change the fact that …”
I pause for a moment, not sure if I should continue. She squeezes my hand, urging me to do just that and I take a deep breath.
“It doesn’t change the fact that the man you loved all these years really was your husband.”
She looks at me confused. “What do you mean?”
“When you fell in love with me and we found out I was Roman, I believed that was why. Maybe it wasn’t me that you loved, but the memories of a former life. When it turned out that I was Forrest Alamain or John Black or whatever the hell I was being called that week, I believed you fell in love with me for me. But now what if you did fall in love with me because of Roman?”
“You’ve always been Roman. From the first day we met when you threw that sleeping bag down on my floor–”
“That’s just it! That’s not my memory.”
“It doesn’t mean it wasn’t you,” she responds, carefully. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love me?”
I look at her startled. After the years we have spent together I wonder how she can ask me such a question. I will admit I have messed up with my wife in the past, numerous times in fact, but for every wrong I committed, I like to feel I made up for it. I reach for her hand again and touch the diamond of her engagement ring.
“More than anything.”
“Do you trust me?”
“You know I do.”
Her expression sobers. “Then listen to me when I tell you that I didn’t fall in love with you because of what your name was or is or whatever. I fell in love with you because you treated me as if I was perfect, when I never was. You are the one person who can make me smile without ever realizing it. You need to understand that your family is going to love you no matter what. Belle isn’t going to blame you for being Roman. Brady isn’t going to be angry that his last name is Brady as well. And Sami loves her father.” I start to protest but she holds up her hand to stop me. “Shawn and Caroline are just going to be happy to have you as their son again whether you acknowledge their name or not. People love you for you, honey.” She smiles at me, taking my hand again. “I understand that the entire life you have lived has been a lie and I’m sorry. I truly, truly am. But I’m still here and I’m never going to leave you.”
“What did I do to deserve you?”
“You’re you, plain and simple.”
I lean forward and kiss her lips. She tastes like Trident gum and I lick my lips savoring her flavor. “Thank you.”
Marlena squeezes my hand. “You need to tell the children.”
“Will you stay here when I do?” I ask her. I sound like a child, but in the moment, I feel as if I am. My wife has taught me everything I know, including how to grow. But tonight, I feel like I did on that morning I first came to her. A man with a lot of unanswered questions and fears.
“I’ll always be here when you need me.”
She reaches for the phone beside her and picks up the receiver. She holds it out to me, our eyes never breaking a connection that has always been so strong, and I take it knowing that I have to face my future all the while trying to make sense of my past.
Name Part 2
I sometimes stare at my daughter and am amazed by how much she has truly become my wife. The only trait, physically at least, that she has gotten from me is my eyes; otherwise she is the mirror image of her mother. I’ve watched them stand next to each other in the past, laughing and talking, and realize that with all that has been taken away from me in the world, more has been given back. Belle is the one person, aside from Marlena of course, who can make me smile without ever realizing it. There’s a warmness to her, an innocence about life despite all that she has been through. The thing that amazes me the most about Belle however is how much she loves me. I have always been her hero, her saving grace, and I never truly understood how I could be hers, when she is mine.
I stand outside on the balcony of bedroom I share with Marlena, gazing down at the street. I can see my children walking towards the building, laughing and teasing each other, and a piece of my heart begins to ache. They believe I have called them to see them after the ordeal on the island when in truth I am about to change their lives: again.
I hear footsteps behind me but I don’t turn; I know who it is. Her arms wrap around my waist and her head rests upon my back; ironically right where my tattoo is. I can feel her breath on my neck and I shiver from her touch.
“Before the kids come in, I just want you to know how much I love you.”
I turn around to face her, kissing her forehead lightly. “Thank you,” I mouth.
We stand and stare at each other for a moment and it hits me again how much I truly love this woman in front of me. I pull her closer to me and this time kiss her lips with a little more force than I think she is expecting. She gives me the strength I need to get through this and when we break apart, she takes my hand to guide me down the stairs.
The kids enter as soon as Marlena and I hit the last step and the moment Belle sees me, her arms tighten around my neck. I hold onto her amazed at how much love I have for my daughter and I can feel the tears spring to my eyes. She backs away from me and smiles through her own tears.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.
I smile. “Me too.”
I step away from Belle and see my son standing there and I move to embrace him. He has always been good to me and although I know he will take the news of my being Roman well for the family’s sake, he will be considerably upset. He hugs me almost as tightly as my daughter has and I breathe a sigh of relief for having such wonderful children.
“It’s really nice to have you back, Dad.”
When Brady and I part, I take a look at the family I have built over the last couple of decades and I can’t help but feel pride and dread all at the same time. I walk over to the couch where Marlena and Belle are already sitting and I sit down across from them. Brady sits down next to me and I take a deep breath knowing that this is it. I rub my hands together and look at Marlena, despair in my eyes. She stands up and walks towards me.
“Honey,” she speaks to Brady, “do you mind switching seats with me?”
I know my son sees nothing wrong with this, after all, he is used to seeing Marlena and I together and after the ordeal he has been through, surely he must understand why she’d want to be next to me. He nods and switches places with her and when she sits, Marlena takes my hand and I know that is my cue to begin. I squeeze her hand and she squeezes back.
Before I can speak however, my daughter does so, knowing me almost as well as her mother does: almost, but not quite. “Dad, are you okay?”
“There’s something I need to speak to you kids about.” I clear my throat, not sure how I should continue. “When we were on the island, we found out some things. As you know when everyone came back from the island, Roman didn’t return with us.”
Belle nods, almost sadly. “Sami was so devastated over that.”
“There’s a reason Roman didn’t come home.”
I am not sure how I should be telling my children that I actually am Roman Brady. I have tried to play this moment in my mind a hundred times, but no words seem right. No words, no matter how poetic or true they are, can ever change the fact that I am about to destroy my children’s lives.
I rub my index finger along my brow, choosing my words carefully. “I want you both to know that I love you. That every moment since the day you were born has been everything I have always needed and wanted. Aside from your mother, the two of you and Sami, Eric, and Carrie are the most important people in my life. Please know that.”
Belle glances over at Brady, neither of them understanding. She trembles, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. “Dad, what’s going on?”
I gaze at Marlena for a moment, moving a little closer to her. She gives me a nod of affirmation. “When we were on the island, I found out …” I pause for a moment and realize that while I might want to cushion the blow for my kids, they need to know, with no pretenses. “It turns out that I actually am Roman Brady.”
Belle’s hand flies to her mouth, a trait characteristic of her mother, while Brady just stares at me, almost as if he has been imagining the words I have just said. I don’t say anything for a moment, neither does Marlena, allowing our children to digest the information I have just fed to them. It is Belle who speaks first, clearing her throat. However, the first thing I notice is the fact that she won’t look at me, the moment I have dreaded the most in all of this.
“Are you sure about this?” She whispers.
“Yes. I was always Roman Brady. Blood tests and documents confirmed it.”
“Are you okay?”
I must admit, while I love my daughter deeply, I am genuinely surprised by her question. She has just found out that her father is the uncle to her former boyfriend and I figure her first reaction will be anger. But instead she has followed in Marlena’s footsteps: always ignoring her own pain if it means helping someone else.
I stand up and move around the table, sitting down next to Belle. I touch her hair gently as she melts into my embrace. “Are you?”
Tears form in her eyes, but she swipes at them, hoping to hide them. “I don’t know. I’ve been in love with my cousin for all of these years–”
“Belle, I am so sorry–”
“I know you think that I’m angry at you, that I blame you for this, but daddy, I don’t. You’re always going to be more important to me than some guy, even if that person is Shawn.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. “Why are you accepting this so quickly?” I say quietly.
“Because you’re my father.” She backs away from our embrace. “I won’t lie to you. Yes, I am devastated about this. It sucks that someone did this to us, to our family, and that I was allowed to fall in love so completely only to find out we are related. But in all of that, you didn’t ask for this. I know how much this is tearing you up and you need to forgive yourself for that.”
She sounds just like her mother and I cannot help but give her a smile. “Thank you.”
I turn towards my son who has been quiet this entire time and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Brady Brady, huh? It’s got a … familiar ring to it.”
The four of us laugh only for a moment and then I quickly sober. “I need to know how you really feel about this.”
“We’ve been through worse. This isn’t going to break us, dad. You never answered Belle’s question though. Are you okay?”
“I’m relieved at the reaction the two of you had. The worst part about all of this is how it would affect my children and your mother.” I look over at Marlena and she smiles at me warmly. I stand, switching positions again so I am next to her. “But it’s hard for me; to not know who I am, to not know where I belong.”
“You belong here,” Marlena says, softly, “that has never changed.”
“And it never will,” Belle responds. She looks at me guiltily, ringing her hands together. “What name are you going by?”
“Dad.” I crack a smile, while my daughter just rolls her eyes. “I don’t know yet. I don’t know if I feel comfortable going by Roman after all these years of being John Black. And I don’t know if being John Black is what I want either.”
“The name doesn’t make the man,” Brady replies.
“No it doesn’t, but sometimes it sure helps.”
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Belle starts, “I mean, you can go by John for now. No one is going to blame you for needing to get used to this after you built a life for yourself using that name. You’re still the same person.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him.” Marlena smiles. “We still love you all the same.” She wraps her arm around me as she rests her head on my shoulder.
I notice my daughter staring. “What?”
“It really doesn’t matter. All of my life, I knew I was safe and secure by watching the two of you. You were always both so in love and I knew that as long as that lasted, everything that seemed bad would one day be okay again. As long as that hasn’t changed, we can make it through this. We will make it through this.”
I think about what Belle has said and I glance around at my surroundings; the home I have lived in for years, the decorations that mix both of our styles together, my children, my life, and I realize what Belle has said is true. My name may change. I might question who I am. But at least I have the comfort of love, something that not even my past or future can take away.
The Jarlena Journal 