A good many Salemites had trekked into Marlena and John’s front room over the years. Grand Central Station on a more modest scale, one might say. Those who did so habitually because they were family or friends couldn’t help noticing the decor had changed recently. For a while, the curtains were light and jazzy, abstract – almost a cheap look, but probably meant as playful and modern. It clashed with the fact that this was the home of affluent, accomplished people. They didn’t have to be chintzy, and “cutesy” didn’t really suit them. Apparently none of the many visitors had the bad manners to badmouth those curtains. They also apparently didn’t ask John and Marlena why they chose them, and perhaps that lack of questioning kept those curtains up as long as they lasted.
But finally, the decor had changed again. It now more closely resembled the predominantly beige color scheme that it had when Marlena originally bought and furnished the place while John lay in a five-month coma back in 2007. Were the new curtains an improvement? Yes, in the sense they lent the room a more dignified air, but one certainly couldn’t give brownie points for imagination or appeal to the decorator, whoever that might be.
The stream of people who traipsed into the front room didn’t usually funnel up the stairs – unless they were immediate family… or overnight guests – a fairly common occurrence since the Blacks were generally an open-hearted and gregarious couple. The guest room had hosted many. But very few had entered their room besides themselves. If guests ever did peek into the master bedroom, they’d probably have been surprised by its ordinariness. The upholstered headboard could best be described as bulky and unexceptional. The room contained few items other than the bed. Perhaps the plainness and single-mindedness was intentional.
The townhouse had another second-floor room that could, in a pinch, sleep another guest on its fold-out sofa bed if their guest room wasn’t available. Ordinarily though, the Blacks considered it their den/library/TV room. When someone came to call, they usually “entertained” them downstairs in the living room. But when they were alone they often retreated to this cozy room with comfortable furniture for reading or watching movies.
In fact, this evening John sat in his favorite chair, feet propped up, reading (or at least putting on a pretense of reading) a new book about British spies called, Spymaster: The Man Who Saved MI6.
He wore what he so often wore: jeans and a blue shirt. He also wore a light, gray fleece cardigan because the new year would dawn in only two days, and the outside winter cold wanted to saturate the townhouse as much as the outdoors. Turning up the heater too high made his wife complain. She said it felt stuffy and hot. She claimed she didn’t feel the chill, which really didn’t make sense since her smaller physique should have caused her to feel the cold more. He thought maybe her body still needed to do some readjusting after her ordeal.
He had been occupying the den for at least an hour, but Marlena had yet to join him. He wasn’t sure where in the house she was. Lately, he thought, she avoided him.
He considered taking the initiative and going to find her. But after a moment’s pondering, he decided against it. How many times in the last few days he’d held that same internal debate and always decided against it, he’d lost count. He kept hoping she would take the initiative herself. Was that unfair of him? Did it put too much of a burden on her? Or did it give her the space she apparently thought she needed? Would she just curl up more into herself if he sought to pull her out of her reserve? As it was, she holed up tenaciously like a stubborn cat – or maybe, more like it, badger? Even in their bed, she turned her back to him.
Even though John’s eyes perused the open page, he’d stopped concentrating on the text quite a while ago. No one but Doc and he were in the townhouse tonight, and he didn’t hear anything aside from his own rustling if he shifted in the chair. Where was she right now? What was she doing?
He knew Marlena would get riled if he hovered around her, watching her protectively. He had done that right after she’d been freed, and her patience with him had frayed within 24 hours.
One the other hand, what if his reluctance to upset her prevented him from taking necessary actions? John knew she felt overwhelmed with guilt. No amount of reassurance from anyone, including him, assuaged that guilt. He couldn’t stand by uselessly if that meant she might harm herself. If he did that, he would be the one who’d never forgive himself.
Okay, his anxiety had increased to a point where he could no longer sit still. He’d have to go and make sure she was all right.
Just as he tightened the muscles needed to rise, Marlena tentatively slipped into the room through the open door from the hallway. John stayed his intended rise. He waited.
She barely made a sound, her body thinner than usual after her ordeal. Her face had a pinched, anguished quality to it, and she added to that effect by not applying her usual make-up. Her hair, almost always professionally quaffed and seldom out of place, looked bedraggled and neglected. She wore an old pair of faded sweats, an odd, sickly shade of purple. Her bare feet padded on the light blue carpet.
Marlena lay down on the couch. She could almost stretch out completely, but with her head on a pillow at one end, her feet did stick up over the sofa arm on the other end. She sighed. But she didn’t speak. Her eyes faced the ceiling, and her slight body seemed to be nearly absorbed in the cushions as she let it relax.
John had no idea what kind of response this called for. Should he acknowledge her and try to draw her into mundane conversation? Or did she want him to ignore her presence and just keep reading (as if that were happening)? At least, he thought, I don’t have to wonder about her whereabouts. She came in here – where I am. Maybe that’s progress. He cautiously abandoned his pretense of reading, settling the book farther down his lap where the letters just blurred. His gentle gaze, fully open and completely non-judgmental, settled on his wife. But his inner struggle about whether to speak or not continued.
Fortunately his befuddlement came to an end quickly. Marlena, still looking at the ceiling said in a small voice, almost, but not quite, as if she were speaking to herself, “It was terrible it happened once. But twice? That’s just unforgivable. There’s really something badly broken in me to allow possession twice in a lifetime.”
Of course, John’s immediate inclination was to deny the starkness of her proclamation. Should he say what others had said to him? That perhaps he had not really succeeded in banishing the demon back to Hell in 1995? His own heart constricted at that thought. Had it been his fault the demon had returned? But he knew instinctively he shouldn’t say that at this crucial moment. He mustn’t make it about him. This was about seeking her healing. So, words of support and assurance wanted to spill out. He ached to reassure her in a positive way. He hated to see her thread herself on a spit of bitter recrimination and roast herself over and over. But he bit his tongue and kept silent. If she had finally mustered the will to talk to him, he needed to be all ears.
Continuing to gaze at the ceiling, her breath hitched. “So many people were harmed. Abe nearly died! Susan tried to commit suicide. Ciara and Ben….” Her voice faded. But she resumed, “And, of course, you. You could have –”
“I didn’t.” He spoke softly but firmly. “I’m all right. Despite the demon’s efforts, no one perished, Marlena.”
“No thanks to me!” she said bitterly. “You had to go to the hospital because I left you in the crypt with no food and water.”
“Hey, I needed to lose a few pounds, honey,” he kidded, trying to lighten the mood.
But his wife would have none of that. She said, “I was a helpless rag doll in the sharp, pitiless teeth of that demon. And I know you’re going to tell me ‘I’ didn’t do all those horrible things. That it was the demon.”
John nodded his head exaggeratedly in case she could see the motion out of the corner of her eye. She still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It was.”
Marlena started crying. “But that’s no excuse – especially when it happens more than once. Father Francis told me after the first possession I needed to be careful. Obviously I didn’t heed his spiritual advice. And ignoring the spiritual, I again put my family and friends in dire danger. That’s just indefensible. I hurt so many, but most of all, I nearly killed you! I just can’t even look you in the eye anymore.” She brushed a hand over her face to keep the tears from falling on the sofa. She finally turned her head, but not toward her husband. Now she faced the back of the couch, hiding even more from him.
John could not stay in his chair another second. He pushed himself to his feet and took the two steps to the sofa. Sinking down on his knees beside her, he dug one of his arms under her shoulders and pulled her close to him, leaning down and laying his cheek against hers.
Whether it was that move or something else, Marlena’s sobbing intensified. John felt his sorrow for her rise up, and he cried with her too. She seemed to try to pull away a couple times, but he held on tight. After a long time her jags began to quiet, allowing John to also quell his weeping. He moved his head slightly away and wiped her sopping face with his fingers, gently channeling the wetness into his hands. With the back of that free hand, he dried his own cheeks. He wiped his hands on his jeans because he wasn’t about to let her go to collect some tissues from where they sat at the ready on a nearby shelf.
John shifted then to cradle her more against his chest. And he said, “I remember twenty-six years ago, when you were in the hospital and you’d just found out the demon had burned down the church. You remember?”
Sniffling helplessly, Marlena nodded. “Yes. I could never forget that.”
“We weren’t married then, of course. But whatever our marital status, we’ve always been irrevocably connected since the first time we met, and your anguish then pierced me like a lance.
“Just as it does now. Marlena. Do you remember what I said to you?”
Her voice cracking, she replied, “You said you’d never give up on me. I asked you how you could even look at me after what I’d done. You said we’d known each other for a lot of years and there had to be a rational explanation – that was before the possession was confirmed. You promised to stand by me. You said, as I just noted, that you wouldn’t give up on me. And you didn’t.”
“I said the same thing to the demon in the crypt. I would never give up on you. NEVER.” John laid his head against hers again for emphasis and then pleaded, “Please, please don’t let the demon dictate anymore. It’s gone. We’ve all been given another chance. Now’s the time to live life fully again.”
“But what if it comes back again? What if it really has not relinquished its hold, but is just hiding in the background?”
“Sweetheart. We have to have faith. Evil triumphs only when we give it power.”
“I did that, John. I gave it power. I let it take me and use me. I didn’t resist. I didn’t stop it.”
Raising his head again, he decided to try to recalibrate her thinking. “But why did you let it take you again?” he prodded. He knew the answer, but wanted her to articulate it.
Marlena raised her head from his chest and for the first time looked John in the eyes. Blinking rapidly to clear a few stray, leftover tears, she sniffed, and then looked down. She apparently registered that he was on his knees beside her. She began to move, righting herself on the sofa with her feet on the floor, and she tugged him up so he sat beside her. John put his arm around her again, tucking her close but holding her so they weren’t looking at one another.
He said again, “Sweetheart, why did you let it take you again? You remember that now, don’t you?”
She sighed. “The demon had possessed Doug. And it was destroying him. When I saw him alone – what a huge mistake that was – the demon told me it would kill him unless I let it come into me instead.”
He nodded his head. “You made a sacrifice of yourself to save Doug. That’s not something to be ashamed of. Quite the contrary. You are a woman who loves, and that was an act of love.”
“But, when I was possessed again, I nearly succeeded in having him killed anyway!” she replied angrily. “So, my supposedly selfless act was pointless, fruitless.”
“Nooo,” John demurred. “Selfless acts are never pointless, even if they appear fruitless – or if they are never seen or in any way recognized by other people. I feel sure every selfless act has its reward from God.”
Marlena seemed to shrink away. “But that’s just it, John. I may have had a selfless reason for letting the demon in, but if you and Eric and others hadn’t saved me, my soul would have been lost. How could God have rewarded me if I’d gone to Hell through my own actions?”
“That’s where faith comes in. Eric quoted me something and I remember some phrases:
“ ‘There is a point in the minds of men
where knowledge can reach no more…
There is no path to the next plateau,
a leap must here be made…
Faith is what that gap is called
From where you are to where you’ve been…’
“Sometimes people take huge leaps that depend on other people to also take huge leaps for a good outcome. We both know that; we’ve both done that before.” John looked at her and tipped her chin up so she could see him. “I think you did that this time too. You found yourself in a situation in which you felt only the most drastic deal with the devil would save Doug. I believe deep down you had faith that if you took that step, others would step up too to help God save you.”
She frowned. “Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe I just took the leap and didn’t care about the outcome for myself.”
“That’s kind of the definition of ‘selfless’, honey,” John pointed out gently.
“No,” she snapped, showing more impatience. “What I mean is, maybe I just didn’t care what happened to my soul. Maybe I’m reckless because I don’t care enough about myself as I should. Being selfless is one thing. Being suicidal is another.”
“Honey. You are not suicidal.” John fixed her with a stern look. “If you’re trying to tell me that you fear your spiritual will isn’t what it should be, that’s very understandable considering what you’ve been through. But if you want me to believe you don’t care about the fate of your immortal soul, I reject that. I’ve known you more than half my life in physical years and all of my life that I remember, and I’ve witnessed countless instances where you have been a fighter – not just for others, but for yourself. Recall when Stefano caged you? You fought for yourself. You always do everything you can. In 1995, you fought to be free of the demon –”
“Did I? I was so weak , so helpless. I might have broken through a couple of times in a dazed way, but toward the end, the demon had total control.
“And this time, too. In fact, this time even more so.”
John was silent. He couldn’t deny the truth of what she said. But after a pause to reflect, he responded, “When you first came in here, you said, ‘There’s really something badly broken in me to allow possession twice in a lifetime.’ But we’ve just established that it wasn’t brokenness that caused the second possession. It was your desire to love your neighbor – God’s commandment. You thought surrendering to the demon was your only alternative to save Doug.”
“But I was wrong. That couldn’t have been the only alternative. I should have refused and found another way to get help. Caving to evil can’t ever be the right answer.”
“Well, honey, as I know firsthand too, that demon is very powerful. It’s very possible that Doug would have died before you could have gotten help.”
Shaking his head, he reminded her, “I did the same thing, you know – when I opted to poison Steve when the ISA director wanted him eliminated. I definitely cooperated with evil then.”
“You saved his life! If you hadn’t stalled by doing that, someone else who didn’t care about him would have been assigned to kill him. I know you racked your brain seeking another way, but there wasn’t one available to you.”
“Okay,” he looked at her tellingly. “Then give yourself the same slack. You saved Doug. You didn’t have a lot of time to mull your options.”
John leaned over and kissed her temple. He continued, “I think you and I do a lot of second-guessing. More than most people. But then again, we seem to get ourselves into many more life-and-death situations than most people. It seems to me that we should leave “what-ifs” alone. What happened, happened. But thanks be to God, you are free. Let’s just be grateful and move on.”
Now it was Marlena’s turn to be silent. John hoped this meant she would agree to this course of action. But his optimism faded when she finally said, “I let that demon use me to perpetrate many evils. Even if I’m not responsible for what the demon did while I was possessed, I’m responsible for allowing the demon to take me as the vehicle to do them! Doug was in no position to waltz around Salem and terrorize people. But I was, and the demon, of course, reckoned with that. I, of all people, should have known BETTER because it possessed me before. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
Before John could object, she added, turning to steal a glance at him, “And while I’m raking myself over the coals – rightfully – there are other actions I’m sorry for. I’ve been self righteous (not selfless) and condemning of you a few times that really are unforgivable. Yet, until now, until this second possession reminded me of my many failings, I haven’t bothered to see how wrong I was.”
Perplexed, John had no idea what she meant. Mentally cataloging the decades, he could easily cite many instances where he hadn’t behaved as he should have toward the woman he loved.
Whether Marlena knew what he thought or not, she hastened on, “My reaction to what happened when you were kidnapped during our honeymoon in Hawaii is one.”
“You had every right to be angry. I kept it from you.”
“If I had had any sense I’d have asked myself then why you didn’t tell me. But no, I made it about me and became outraged. I accused you of being unfaithful. I even hit you. But the truth was you and Hope were unwilling participants. You were no more responsible than I was when possessed.”
John’s eyebrows rose at this confession. It felt confused and impromptu so he wasn’t sure exactly which part of it he ought to tackle first, but he opted for: “That’s true about the unwilling part, for sure. I wasn’t even sure what happened there for a long time, and during the time on the sub, whatever happened wasn’t my will. But, honey, if you can see that about the sub, please see it about your possession too. You are not responsible for that.”
“Except, as I said, I allowed the demon to take me. But you didn’t allow yourself to be kidnapped. You didn’t make a deal with Stefano to be taken to the sub. He took advantage of your natural desire to help a seemingly drowning person.”
“The more you speak of this, the more you should realize that the demon also took advantage of your natural desire to help Doug.” He searched her face for evidence she understood the parallels she had just cited.
Unfortunately, her expression refused to acknowledge it. Instead she said doggedly, “Listen, there are enough differences between what happened to you and what happened to me; I’m not going to say they’re on the same plane. But that’s not my point anyway.
“I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry for not being the wife you could tell as soon as you started having flashbacks. Instead, I caused you to keep the agony of the whole experience to yourself, and when you finally had to tell me, I, as I said, acted as though you’d purposely cheated on me. And that just puts into high relief another big fault of mine. I know you love me! I knew it then. But I still had the audacity to be threatened by Stefano’s ugly, twisted sub plot. He must have been ecstatic at my stupidity.”
John couldn’t hide his astonishment at this apology. Part of him felt elated at his beloved’s open admission. But he knew he hadn’t been without fault. He should have told her as soon as he began experiencing the flashbacks. Yes, he’d feared her reaction, but that shouldn’t have stopped him. By postponing it, he’d only ensured more suspicion on her part. And, of course, Hope’s pregnancy had heightened tensions immeasurably, especially since he has been invested in whether he was the father; understandably, Marlena had felt that a threat to their marriage.
As all of this ran through his mind, he swallowed and looked imploringly at Marlena. He pulled her closer to him, physically comforting and thanking her.
“Marlena. You are a human being. You are entitled to react with umbrage and anger to horrible situations. God knows, I wish with all my heart that never happened. Stefano tortured us in many ways, but I think that episode counts as one of the worst. It’s definitely better off forgotten. Thank you though for being sorry. I’m sorry too because I didn’t handle it right.
“Are we done with recriminations about the past now?” he asked.
“No, not yet.” She shook her head for emphasis. “I’m also very sorry for not understanding your determination to protect Brady from Kristen eight years ago. I should have helped you instead of putting up roadblocks and minimizing your worries.”
“Oh boy, that was a really bad time for us both, wasn’t it? I became obsessed with stopping Kristen, and I went too far.”
“John, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve been the more constant of the two of us regarding our love.”
He looked surprised again. “Really? You think so? I’m not so sure. That time we were just discussing, I really let you down. And that wasn’t the first time.”
“Generally though, I think you are the one who has the most faith in us.” She huffed. “I’m the one who kept you on tenterhooks when Kristen brought Roman back in 1997. Instead of being steadfast like you, I kept dithering. If you had been a less loving, less patient man, you’d have given up on me. But you didn’t. You put up with my cowardly refusal to just choose you; you waited because you had faith our love would triumph. I’m ashamed it wasn’t I who actually made the decision. I was so wimpy that Roman finally stepped back after he saw us in the hospital room with Belle.” She huffed again. “Frankly, John, there are times when I just feel I don’t deserve you.”
That statement wrung John’s heart. “I could say the same, sweetheart. But maybe for both of us the consolation lies in love not being about what we deserve.” He gave her a little head butt, again trying to get her to lighten up. She did smile weakly, but that was all. So, John decided to try another tack.
“You’ve seen the Cary Grant/Deborah Kerr movie, An Affair to Remember, haven’t you?”
Marlena glanced at him, clearly finding this topic unexpected. “Sure. Many times in fact. I saw it with Carrie and with Sami. And I’m sure I’ve seen it with others. Maybe my sister and I even watched it together. My mom and I too. I don’t know if I’ve ever watched it with Dad or Roman or you though.” She frowned. “We never watched that together, did we?”
“Nope. Maybe we should. I watched it with Carrie too once. And, another time, with Belle.”
“Belle! Yes, I watched it with her at least once.” Marlena agreed. “But you weren’t there when we did; I’m pretty sure of that.”
“Belle and I watched it once when you were away at a medical conference. She loves that movie. The reason I brought it up is after we watched it, I asked why she loved it so much. She said, ‘Dad, sometimes I’m just in the mood for a really schmaltzy love story. And Kerr and Grant really look good on screen together. But there’s another reason: they remind me of you and Mom.’ Of course, I couldn’t resist and asked ‘How so’? She grinned, telling me, ‘For one, you two are just as photogenic together as they are. For two,’ and here she became serious, ‘You and Mom have a love that’s even more deep and enduring than theirs. And you two sacrifice for each other just as they did – except much more extremely and often. Nickie and Terry are characters I love to watch, but you and Mom are my inspiration for true love.’ ”
“Wow,” Marlena breathed, “She didn’t say that to me.”
“She also showed me a quote from a viewer review that said something like, “If you want to be loved by women you must watch this movie, and REALLY understand WHAT it is about, and WHY women love it so much. Cary Grant set the standard, and no one has come along to surpass him. Deborah Kerr, the same – elegance defined. Don’t be an ass – be the gentleman that you should be, and don’t be afraid to show all the clods out there just how it’s done.” Belle didn’t say I needed to take that advice, but the truth is, I haven’t always been your ‘Nickie Ferrante’ the way I should have been.”
Marlena chuckled at that. “Nickie had every right to be puzzled when he saw her in the last scene. I’m afraid Terry does resemble me in one unfortunate way.”
“What’s that?”
“She made things harder for herself and Nickie than she needed to. I’ve done that for us numerous times too.” She gazed off into nothingness, apparently lost in thought. Finally she said, “One example of my foolishness was when I finally got my memory back after the Alex debacle – got my memory back thanks to you, I should not forget to say. Anyway, what did I do? I told you I needed ‘time.’ I made you move out of the penthouse.” She rolled her eyes.
John shrugged. “Honey, I understood. You felt confused about the hidden ‘history’ with North. You couldn’t fathom how you could have let him abuse you when you were young – er.” Whoops, he didn’t need to make a faux pas about age at this point. He made a face though, saying, “I still, to this day, have doubts that marriage really took place. I’ve always suspected Stefano plotted the whole convoluted thing.”
“I wish, but then why would Alex North have cooperated?”
“I can think of a few reasons. He wanted you! What man wouldn’t? Also, maybe he received other incentives from Stefano.”
“Well, there’s a flaw in your theory. Stefano wanted me for himself. Why would he go to such lengths to hand me over to someone else?”
“What exactly drove DiMera to his demented plots will always be a mystery to us, especially now that’s he’s definitely dead. And North was a piece of work too. I could just see the slime on him, and it killed me that in your amnesiac state, you couldn’t.”
Marlena suddenly stiffened and pulled away from him. She got to her feet and started out of the room. “I’m going to bed, John,” she said tonelessly. Her head hung and her shoulders slumped as she walked.
What in the world? John thought. Something had just caused her to close up like a clam again. He mentally kicked himself. Talking about their strange and volatile past could trigger either one of them to relive traumas. He should not have gone on about North.
“Stupid,’ he muttered to himself. He wondered how long it would be this time before she would talk again. He turned off the lamp by his chair, and headed for their bedroom.
Marlena sat on the edge of her side of the bed, brushing her hair. She didn’t look at him as he passed by to enter the bathroom. And once he emerged and quickly changed into his customary night attire, she had already lain down, her back to his side – the same posture she’d assumed since coming home. He wondered which he should try: silence or speech. Climbing into bed, he propped himself on an elbow and with his other hand he gently touched his wife’s shoulder. “Honey?” he asked quietly.
His hand immediately felt the slight tremor in her. Carefully, he tightened his cupped hand and succeeded in rolling her on her back. She felt as non-resistant and limp as a rag doll. He hadn’t turned off the light on his side yet, so he immediately saw she was crying again. “Honey,” he echoed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you again. Will you tell me what’s wrong? Tell me what stupid thing I should not repeat again.”
Haltingly, miserably, she answered, her voice impeded, soaked in her tears, “Oh, John. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m the lowest of the low.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, confused about what era of their lives she was stuck in. Was it the present? Or was she back in the mid 2000’s? He hovered over her, stretching his arm to reach the tissue box on her nightstand and plucking out a number of them. Then he used a couple to dry the meager but obvious little rivers on her cheeks. He kept a few in reserve though because she might not be through letting tears fall.
Marlena was still very passive. So John again reached behind her shoulders (as he had on the sofa earlier) and, lying down himself, tucked her body against his with her head on his heart. She left like a scared, delicate bird in his arms. She shivered, and he didn’t think that resulted just from her crying. Her thin body was probably chilled, despite her previous insistence she wasn’t cold. Gathering up the covers over them, he sought to warm her up and also to try to give her comfort. Kissing her hairline, he hoped she would explain now.
Finally, she cleared her throat and sniffled again. “My mind is besieged by so many of my transgressions. I feel like I’m drowning in failure.”
“Sweetheart, that’s exactly what The Evil One wants. Even though the demon is banished to Hell, Satan still always tries to tempt us to consider ourselves lost causes because we make mistakes. Don’t fall for that. God forgives, and expects us to forgive ourselves.”
She tensed. “How can I forgive telling Ben and Ciara that you abused me, John?”
He held her tighter. So that was it. His bringing up North had triggered remembrance of the demon’s sinister accusations. “That wasn’t you! I know that. You aren’t responsible for that.” He paused, “But since we’re on the subject, there is something about that I’d like to address. The demon knew about my aneurysm of course. And it played Ciara and Ben by claiming that made me so emotionally unbalanced that I’d been abusive and threatening to you. And it even put a fake me at the cabin door screaming about harming you. Hey, since they didn’t know about your possession, I can’t hardly blame them for being fooled.
“But the truth is, because my brain wasn’t regulating itself normally, I have shouted at you a few times. And, I was a little worried for a while that I might have to move out to make sure I didn’t hurt you. Thankfully, it hasn’t come to that, and I do think the uncontrolled emotions have subsided. But, I’m sorry for when I was kind of savage.” Before she could respond, he added, “I do think perhaps the demon dug out a little fear of me in your subconscious to use against me, and I’m so sorry I put that there.”
Marlena shook her head decisively and said in a stronger voice. “I’m not afraid of you. Honestly. Maybe the demon did ‘dig out,’ as you put it, some of my memory’s images of the few times you raised your voice, but I promise you I wasn’t scared of you. I understood what was happening, and you always got hold of yourself and apologized.
“And, yes, it was the demon who accused you of abuse, but again, I let the evil thing take over my body and control every outward action. The demon in me succeeded in deceiving Ben and Ciara; for a while they actually believed you capable of something you’d never do. I feel horrible about it.”
“Honey, look. We both know I’m no saint. I hate to have to admit it, but there have been times in our life together when I’ve hurt you – even physically. The ‘Jawn’ me – the robot guy who Stefano and Rolf turned me into after I ‘died’ in 2007 – knocked you out by shoving you into a door.”
“That wasn’t you, John. That Jawn, sadly, was a skeletal mock-up who didn’t possess all of your mental and emotional components. Dr. Frankenstein would have been proud of Dr. Rolf. You were not able to express your full personality and character.”
“Yeah, okay. Again, honey, that same is true about you recently. The demon prevented you from having any control. ” He paused significantly, but she didn’t answer. “Besides, I know there have been other times I’ve been less than the knight in shining armor I should be to you. I can’t deny I think the demon tapped into your memories of those times – like when I refused to take your accusations against Brady seriously when he actually did act abusively toward you as a teenager. Or when I had a fit about your getting help from Stefano to clear me of the corruption charges after we returned to Salem. I’m not Mr. Rational all the time – wasn’t even before the aneurysm.”
Marlena moved her head so she could look at him. “Honey, I’ve had a number of emotional explosions too. And guess what? I sometimes shamefully resort to physical violence even when I am ‘myself’. As you know, I’ve hit you several times out of anger. No excuse for that. But I’ve done it. That’s when I was not possessed. Of course, while possessed, I’ve done worse to you. Dear God, John, I hate what I let the demon do to you.”
“And, come to think of it, it isn’t only when I’m possessed that I’ve tried to kill you. Just a few years ago, when Dr. Rolf set up that ‘Stevano’ plot, I came so close to shooting you.”
“Again, that wasn’t you…and that was a great example of you fighting through the ‘chip’ control. I was able to reach ‘you’, Doc. Your strength to fight won.”
She didn’t look convinced. John sighed, “We’re going around in circles. Perhaps it will just take some time for you to come to terms with things. You’re a psychiatrist with tons of clinical experience with people who need counseling to accept certain realities. You know there are stages. In a way, this is a matter of grieving – grieving for a state of existence where a second possession didn’t happen.
“And I’ve got to come to terms with the fact that the demon came back too. People are saying I couldn’t properly exorcise the demon back in 1995 because I wasn’t ordained. I keep coming back to that. As I said before, I don’t know whether I was or not. But the plain fact is the demon returned. So, no, I didn’t fully banish it last time.”
That statement seemed to raise her hackles in defense of him. “I think people who say that are wrong, John. I think you did exactly what you were supposed to the first time. Remember when I was finally released from the grip of the demon? We left the church, and it started to rain. The whole time I’d been possessed there’d been drought. But when I was freed, even nature in Salem recognized the Evil had gone.”
“But it did come back.”
“Yes, well, I guess as long as we human beings are living in this fallen world, the Devil can operate. It’s not your fault it returned. Not at all.”
John met her gaze again and then kissed her forehead. “I’ll try to be certain of that. Please, Doc, try to let your own guilt go too. We’re together. The demon is gone. Let’s not give it the satisfaction of any more mental self-flagellation. I love you! I’m so grateful you’re here with me, safe in body and soul. I prayed for that unceasingly, and God heard that prayer.
‘You are my world – you have been for as long as I can remember, of course. Even though I’ve let some things come between us through the years, in my heart, you’ve always been my true love. My beloved. Nothing has ever changed that. Nothing ever will.” His eyes blurred, and he smiled at the woman he held.
Marlena’s tear-stained face rose up so she hovered over her husband. She bent down and kissed his lips ever so sweetly before raising her head again, “I love YOU. So much. There are no words for the depth of my love for you. Sometimes, even when I’m totally myself, I fail to demonstrate to you what you mean to me. I respect you, I cherish you, I am in awe of you on so many levels, you are a fantastic lover, and I will never have enough of you. Thank you with all my heart and soul for sticking by me when the odds are nearly insurmountable. You always save me, John. You’re always there for me. It’s going to take a while for me to get through this, but knowing you are here to help me means the world to me.”
Reaching up, John grasped the back of her head and, as he drew her down for a much longer kiss, he whispered, “You save me every day, Doc. There’s nowhere else I want to be, except with you. Whatever it takes, we’ll get through it together.”
And then they proved why the bedroom really didn’t need more than a bed.
Fin
Notes:
– Poem excerpts from “Leap from Logic” by Brent Kirby.
– This story was completed before Marlena was actually freed of the demon on DOOL, so certain “facts” may not coincide with the show’s version of events.
The Jarlena Journal 