am I going to live in this big house by myself? I don’t want this life if Sean isn’t in it.”
“I know, but you can do it. You did it after Jonas died.”
“That’s when I had my house. My home with all my memories of Jonas. Now I’m in this new place and it’s like Sean dragged me here. It was the price I had to pay to be with him, and I was willing to do it. But now I’m here and I can’t go back, because he sold my house and then he left. He left, Nae!”
Joanie protested, either to being squished between our hug or to my heaving and wracking sobs. So I sucked it up, pulling out of Naomi’s arms and wiping my eyes. “I was prepared before,” I said after I had gained a bit of control. “I had built up my armor. I had prepared myself to be a single parent, to be alone. It was what needed to be done, and I was going to do it. But then Sean showed up. And he wormed his way past all my anger and pain. He was this…this brilliant light amidst all the crap I was dealing with. He gave me hope.” The anger rushed back in. “I let myself hope. I let myself count on him. I knew when he first arrived that it wouldn’t last, that he would never be a safe place for me.” I rested two limp fingers against my mouth. “But then he changed my mind. He did everything right, said everything right. I honestly believed him. He made me believe him!” I was incredulous and indignant. “How could I have been stupid enough to believe him?” I asked in a pathetic whisper.
Naomi didn’t bother answering.
♪♫♪
It wasn’t until later that another worry reared its ugly head. I was angry about what he’d done to me. I was hurt and bruised and my heart felt like it was actively bleeding inside my chest. Me. Me. Me.
So it took until that afternoon for me to think back to Naomi’s words and what they might really mean for Sean. She’d said he wasn’t holding it together.
I’d spent years of my life holding Sean together with nothing but my bare hands. I knew better than anyone what it meant for him to fall apart.
Was he falling apart now? Falling off the wagon? Spiraling? Crashing? Burning?
I resented all the protective, worried feelings that rushed to the surface at this thought. I wanted time to be selfish. I wanted to focus on me and give myself space to sit in my anger. But despite all my hurt and outrage, in the end I knew I would be okay. I could deal with it.
But Sean? My confidence in his coping skills was shattering. That confidence had been non-existent when he’d first shown up at my door. But it had grown and flourished each day that he’d stuck with me and taken care of himself. Now, with him out of my sight—isolated and damaged—he could be doing anything, and the worry and not-knowing ate at my stomach and wound its way around my throat, choking off my breath.
I held it together until I got Joanie down for a nap, and then I went out to the guest house. I hadn’t been back since I’d read his song. Now I stormed in and practically tore the place apart looking for…what? Evidence? Clues to what he’d done just before leaving me? What did I think I’d find? Booze? Narcotics? As if he would have had that before he left. He wouldn’t have. I knew that. He never would have brought it close to me or Joanie. So what did I hope to find? There was nothing in the kitchen cupboards or drawers to give me any insight or closure. No hand-written notes. No flight information.
My entrance into his bedroom was less sure. It felt foreboding to walk into the place where he had slept. But I sucked in a breath of determination and went through his dresser drawers and his nightstand—both empty—and then threw the covers off the bed, more in anger than with any hope of finding something.
I stood over the bed, my breath puffing in and out as I fought the urge to cry—again. I stared at the mattress with burning eyes for several minutes before it came back into focus. Then I noticed a folder sticking out from underneath one of the pillows.