Page 16 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
Felicity—
I know I've let you down. I know that showing up late doesn't undo what I've already broken.
I don't expect this to fix things. I just wanted to offer something quiet. Something without pressure. A table with your name on it, because you deserve that. You've always deserved that.
I forgot what matters. Somewhere between late office hours and broken promises, I let the most important thing in my life become an afterthought. I see that now. God, how I wish I'd seen it before. But I can't change the past. I can only begforgiveness for it. I can only work to build a future where you feel nothing but loved.
I'm not going to ask you to believe just my words. I'm going to show you. Every day. With heart and actions. I'm going to show you that you are—and always have been—the love of my life.
I love you,
Caden
~__~__~__~__~__~__~
I sat down slowly, moving to the counter stool. My chest was tight, but my eyes burned with something warmer than anger.
No performance. No apologies laced with excuses.
Just food. A table. A letter.
I'm hoping it's something real—and lasting. I'm not sure where I stand in all this, but I can say honestly that, while I'm not walking away, I have no problem eating my feelings tonight.
Chapter 6: Remember the Fireworks
~Felicity~
My eyes felt crusty as I came out of a deep sleep and my body was buzzing with the hurt of an emotional hangover. I swear I could feel my heartbeat in my teeth—if I didn’t know better, I would’ve said I took down a couple bottles of wine last night. Meanwhile, I had only a glass.
I pulled up to a sitting position, and after a moment of steadying myself, I forced myself to stand. I swear I groaned as I almost waddled—heading toward the bathroom. When did my bones start to feel so old? Forty is supposed to be the new thirty, so this old-ass feeling in my body could suck it.
I straightened my spine, grabbed the edge of the dresser, and steadied myself. I reached up toward the ceiling to stretch my body out. Looking at myself in the mirror on top of the dresser, I spoke to the woman in front of me.
"Get your ass in gear, Felicity. You're not old, you're just getting started. Your marriage does not define who you are. You are a fucking beast and you will stand with fucking dignity."
I looked at that tired woman I saw reflected, and as I spoke, I swear she started to grow more determined. Almost fortified by the impromptu speech.
"That’s right, Felicity. You will close out your thirties with a bang—with or without your husband by your side."
I reached for my phone. My fingers hovered, aching to text him. I opened my messages and started to type.
Me: Thank you for dinner last night. It was thoughtful.
Delete.
Me: The food was good. We should talk when you get home.
Delete.
Me: I read your letter. I don't know what to say yet but thank you for trying.
Too honest? Not honest enough? I had no idea anymore.
Delete.
Me: Thank you for dinner.
My thumb hovered over send. «Sent»
