Page 70 of Hidden Gem
Igot a letter fromyou. Snail mail! You must really love me? I hope it’s about how you can’t stop thinking about me and are on your way to Wellington right now. - Jason
(Heart emoji) - Marnie
Jason lay on the bedspread in his condo, listening to the unnatural hum of air conditioning. Almost like ocean waves, yet nothing like it. Monotonic, electric, efficient.
It was Tuesday night, and his head was spinning, like coming down after a week-long bender. They’d slogged it out, pulling together all the missing data, calculating scenarios and double-checking the numbers to make sure they had a solid case.
To his surprise, the past few nights in his flat had gone okay. He’d worked late every night, collapsing on the bed when he could no longer keep his eyes open. Sleep hadn’t been long or plentiful, but it had sustained him. By anyone else’s standards, it was terrible, but he knew how bad it could get – lying awake all night, heart pounding as waves of sweat pushed through his skin and cooled down, turning into shivers. Three layers of blankets, more shivering, unbelievable tiredness, and then, as he almost drifted out again, it would start from the beginning– the sweats, the heartbeat drumming between his ears, the absolute terror that filled his mind for no apparent reason. So yes, falling asleep and waking up in a state that could be improved by caffeine was a win. Not like the heavenly rest he’d experienced with Marnie in the lighthouse, but a win. Maybe the bliss of the weekend still lingered in his system. He’d felt lighter ever since he’d told Marnie about the fake degree and his desire to quit.
The constant stream of challenges had kept his brain busy for three days, pushing his doubts about Marnie’s letter to the background. And now, their presentation was over. They could do nothing but wait as the Minister of Revenue got ready to introduce the bill to Parliament. The government had majority, so technically they could push the bill through in a day. But since they were suggesting a brand-new tax bracket, it would likely go to a consultation by Select Committee. The whole process would take at least six months. He had to be patient.
Marnie’s letter had appeared that morning. It sat on his nightstand, unopened, atop a book about lighthouse keepers he’d swiped from the Airbnb. He’d paid for it in form of a hefty tip, and it had served as a decent distraction, quieting his mind before bed. It was better than staring at the crypto market, he had to admit. Maybe Marnie had a point.
Jason stared at the envelope. After how they’d parted, the letter made him nervous. But he couldn’t put it off any longer. Jason took a breath and ripped into the envelope. Marnie’s handwriting was small and curly, like her hair. He could almost hear her soft voice. Her sweet tropical scent drifted from somewhere, tightening his throat.
Jason. I’ve fallen in with love you, which makes this so hard to write. You may think you love me too, but I’m not the one. There’s someone out there who’s perfect. She’ll help you sleep (although I think you may rediscover that skill yourself, once you resolve your guilt, maybe put that laptop away). Anyway, she’ll have your babies and carry them with healthy, non-aching fingers. She can handle the life you deserve. She’ll be amazing. I’ll read about it in the papers, and hate her of course, but I’ll be happy for you.
I believe in you. You can achieve great things. You can fill those ghost houses with life. I’ll be watching from afar. And I know you won’t come after me, because you’re a good guy, not a creepy stalker. I’m saying this all with a sick feeling. I’ve felt sick ever since I walked away. It hurts like hell, but I know it’s the right thing to do.
Thank you for seeing me, touching me, being with me. I’ve felt more alive than ever before. I haven’t felt like me, but in a good way. You’ve given me more than I thought possible. But I can’t take the publicity. The disappointment. I won’t pass the test and eventually, you’ll see what they see and end up resenting me. And that will taint all the beautiful memories, just like a divorce does. I can’t do it to us.
Marnie
Jason stared at the letter, a weight in his stomach, like he’d accidentally swallowed a piece of lead falling from the sky. Apparently, this had happened to an 18th century lighthouse keeper as he’d looked up with his mouth open during a fire. He’d died. Just like Jason would die. Slowly, but surely, with lead in his belly. What was the point of living if he could never feel okay again? Marnie had painted a nice picture, but she was working off a false premise. There was no one else for him.
Chapter 34
Marnie sat on the toilet, hugging herself. Her period was overdue. For how many days, she wasn’t sure. But her breasts had grown a cup size and ached all over. It must have been a cruel, hormonal trick, because she couldn’t be pregnant. Shasa had helped her research side effects of her medication and the supplements she was taking. Nothing explained the delayed period, but the DHEA capsules her pharmacist had prescribed as anti-aging, were also used to treat low ovarian reserve. Marnie shivered at the thought. Had she accidentally fixed her fertility and ended up pregnant? Could this really be happening?
Maybe not, but she couldn’t muster up the courage to do the test. She needed support, just in case it was positive. Or negative.
Pocketing the pregnancy test, she pulled her pants up over her tight belly, washed her hands and stepped into the lounge. Darkness had already swallowed the view outside, turning the mammoth fountain into a black, looming monster. The night stretched before her, endless, full of anxiety and circling thoughts. She needed a friend.
“Tanya! I’ll be at Shasa’s!” She yelled through her daughter’s door.
The pop song blasting on the other side lowered in volume, and Tanya replied with an absent-minded, “Okay.”
