Page 85 of The Broken Heart Playlist
At work, I knew my own worth. I didn’t shape myself into someone else to please others. People respected me at work. So how could I have thought so little of myself in my marriage?
Ironically, the more I molded myself, the more Oliver’s disdain grew and his temper flared, showing up in bruises on my skin from him grabbing me, a swollen face from a slap, gashes from shoves into sharp-edged furniture. Yes, he hurt mephysically, but he was also remarkably skilled at wielding his words like a baseball bat. And sometimes that hurt more.
The entire time I’m talking, Gideon doesn’t take his eyes off me, digesting everything, his body rigid, like he’s bracing himself against the onslaught.
Coming out of my narrative, I blink away the memories. “Oliver wrote in his letter that it was all my fault because I let myself go after I had Lisset.”
Gideon’s throat works. He has to give himself a moment before he can speak. “No, you didn’t let yourself go. He let you go. You and that beautiful girl. He doesn’t deserve either of you. He never did.”
Then he stands and pulls me to my feet, holding me tight against him, as if he can’t bear even an inch of space between us. His arms wrap protectively around me. It feels so good to be held like this. As if I matter.
“I’m so sorry,” Gideon whispers into my hair. “I wish I had been there to stop him from hurting you.”
Hearing Gideon’s desperate wish, feeling his arms around me, I feel another agonizing pull at my chest. My shoulders start shaking. If only he had been there to stop Oliver. How different everything might have been.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to hold back. You don’t have to retreat to the shower to cry alone. I’m here. You can let go.”
And I do. It’s like a tidal wave of pain and sorrow and anger crashing over me, submerging me. I sob into Gideon’s chest.
His arms tighten around me as I weep for that lost and lonely woman trapped in her marriage. I want to hug her and tell her she’ll get through it, that she’s stronger than she thinks she is. I want to tell her she’s not alone, that she has family she can turn to, family who will love and support her without question.
But I don’t know if she’ll believe me because her husband was so good at keeping her isolated. Moving her to another town, making sure the marriage was all-consuming, eroding her confidence so she doesn’t make friends and doesn’t reach out to anyone. Not even her own family.
I don’t know how much time passes before I finally stop shaking and my tears dry up. I feel drained, exhausted beyond measure.
Gideon presses a soft kiss to my hair. In a voice so quiet it’s terrifying, he says, “If Oliver comes anywhere near you and Lisset, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”
I say wearily, “As far as I know, he’s living in France with the woman he left me for. I don’t know the details. I don’t want to know.”
“What about any of the people you knew from your marriage? Are you in contact with any of them?”
“No. I wasn’t close to anyone.” My voice is slightly muffled against his chest. “When I returned to Brown Oaks, I wanted to leave behind everyone and everything that had any link to Oliver. I wanted no reminders of my marriage. I still don’t.”
We lapse into silence. Surprise trickles through my veins when I realize how comfortable and safe I feel tucked against his chest.
Eventually, though, Gideon pulls back to look at me. “What is this letter Lisset mentioned?”
I exhale heavily. “I came home from work one day to discover that Oliver had taken all his stuff and left us. He didn’t even say goodbye to Lisset. The only thing he left behind was that letter to me, a litany of all my failings.”
He closes his eyes briefly in what looks like a grimace. “Why did you keep the letter?”
“I honestly don’t know. I kept thinking there had to be truth to his words and I needed to learn from them. Maybe I kept it asmy punishment. Everything Oliver said was all twisted up in my head. It got to the point where I couldn’t distinguish truth from lies.”
“Please destroy the letter. For your own sake. For Lisset.”
For us.
He doesn’t say the words, but they hang in the space between us.
“I tore the letter up last night,” I tell him. Into hundreds of tiny pieces, in much the same way it tore my heart to pieces for so many years.
“Good.” He smiles at me, patient and tender. “Now we get to start afresh.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I have to go away for a while,” Gideon says.
His announcement takes both Lisset and me by surprise. We’re over at Gideon’s house for Lisset’s weekly Saturday session as a Reading Dog volunteer. I’m relieved to see her enthusiasm hasn’t waned. The moment she wakes up, she rushes to remind me we have to head over to Gideon’s place so she can bathe and brush Uno. There’s not a single Saturday she’s skipped so far.
