The Doctor Who Has No Closure - Victoria Quinn Page 0,36
been different…would everything be different. If Allen didn’t have a heart problem, would I be sitting here with her, our kids playing under the tree, thinking about how lucky I am?” I took a deep breath as the pain hit my chest, grabbed my heart, and made me lose control of my faculties for just a moment.
Dad watched me, a deep look of pain coming over his features, his hand moving to my back to comfort me.
“It didn’t feel like a divorce…it felt like she died.”
He rubbed my back slowly, letting me have a moment to breathe. “I didn’t know you still felt that way, son.”
“It’s not that I’m still in love with her or anything. It’s just…I can’t really say she wasn’t the right person for me. I can’t say she was a mistake. Because the thing that broke us apart…was trauma. We didn’t talk once after she left me and we barely looked at each other in court, and a part of me expected her to come back and at least apologize…but that’s never happened. I guess I’ve just never really had closure. I’ve never really had an explanation. Has she ever had any regrets? Has she ever looked back and considered how she hurt me? I still don’t really understand what happened, and it bothers me. I was so damn good to her… How could she just leave me?”
He scooted closer to me and squeezed me against him. “I know this is hard to hear, but if she was able to leave you so easily, when all you tried to do was save her father, then your relationship was never really what you thought it was. You vowed to love each other, no matter what—and she broke that vow. It’s easy to be happy and in love when things are good, but what really defines your relationship is how you love each other when things are bad. That’s all you need to know—and that’s all the closure you need.”
It was dark before five in the midst of winter, so when I pulled up to the house, I saw the Christmas lights wrapped around the roof, twinkling on and off, an inflatable snowman in the yard. Snow had been falling consistently since yesterday, so when I stepped out of the Range Rover with the gift, I watched it stick to my coat.
Whenever it rained, it was accompanied by a distinct sound that was peaceful, but snowfall was silent. And that was somehow more peaceful. The air was so frigid that it burned every time I took a breath, but it cleansed me too.
I walked up the sidewalk between the two sides of the yard and set the box on the mat outside the front door. It wasn’t wrapped as nicely as her gifts, and honestly, it looked like a shitshow, but at least it was wrapped. I didn’t knock or ring the doorbell, and I turned to walk back to the Range Rover, my breath heating my face every time I exhaled.
The door opened behind me, the sound of a movie on in the background. “Dex?”
At the sound of her voice, I turned around, seeing her standing on the front porch in sweatpants and a baggy coat. “I just wanted to drop that off. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“We’re just watching Home Alone.” She bent down and picked up the present.
“First or second one?”
“Lost in New York.”
“That’s my favorite.”
She looked at the present for a moment before her eyes lifted to me. “What’s this?”
My shoulders continued to become blanketed with snow, but the cold suddenly didn’t bother me when I looked at the warmth in her eyes. “A Christmas gift. I meant to give it to you yesterday, but it slipped my mind…with all that pie in my stomach.”
She chuckled then walked down the sidewalk toward me, her boots making a line in the thin layer of snow as she came toward me. “You already got me those French chocolates—which were delicious, by the way.”
“I know, but I wanted to get you something. You’re the reason I’m…you know.” My mom pushed me and arranged most of it, but Sicily was the one who made the path much easier, made everything convenient so I wouldn’t find an excuse to stop. And she said the right things to make me brave, to make me motivated, to make me hate myself less.
She watched me, the warm breath escaping her little nose and rising into the dry air between us. The