When Lynn left me and returned to our parents' home, I had a rough time of it. I kept going to work and being a responsible adult, but every night I went home and prepared the same dinner: two hot dogs with mustard, onions, and relish, on whole wheat buns, and three shots of Glenlivet 18. I cried like a baby some nights. It felt like someone had reached inside of me and literally ripped out part of my innards.
After three or four weeks of that nonsense, I knew I couldn't go on with that routine, so I decided to seek a promotion that would give me a good excuse to move away and start a new life somewhere else. I wanted to be so far away that mom and dad would not expect me to visit anytime soon; the idea of returning home and possibly seeing Lynn was simply too painful. While I was waiting for my first promotion application to be considered, I stopped drinking and I started writing the story of how Lynn and I became lovers. I hoped that writing about my experience would be cathartic. It was . . . just a little bit.
When I got the job in Seattle, it was a welcomed relief. I still hadn't stopped mourning for Lynn and I didn't know what else to do. I needed to drive to Seattle and I did not yet have an apartment, so I packed most of my belongings and Dad came and got them. He said that he would keep in them in the garage until I got settled, and then maybe he would rent a truck and drive out to visit me. Good old Dad!
When Dad unloaded my stuff at their house, he put everything in the garage except my PC. He thought the heat and humidity might be a problem so he put that in the spare bedroom. Then, when he packed the truck to bring my stuff to Seattle, he overlooked the PC. He realized his mistake before he arrived and he promised to ship it to me as soon as he and mom returned home.
* * *
While Mom and Dad were gone, I noticed the computer in the spare bedroom and thought it was Jack's. It was set up but that wouldn't take very long. If it was Jack's, he had some pictures on his hard drive that I wanted to copy. When I turned it on and it accepted the password I remembered, my suspicions were confirmed. I scanned the recent documents and found one entitled, "The Love Of My Life."
I could not leave the PC until I read that story. I had this initial, crazy fear that it would be a story about some other girl, but it wasn't, and I again felt embarrassed about doubting Jack. What I read was what you have read as chapter 1 of this story. Of course, you know that after I read chapter 1, I realized how much Jack loved me. No other conclusion was possible.
I also realized that I had been simmering in my own juices, wallowing in my depression over the loss of the baby, and that is when I should have relied on Jack the most . . . but, instead, I had pushed him away. I had not treated him as I should have treated a husband. I had failed him and that realization made me feel horribly, horribly awful.
If there was any chance of having Jack back in my life, I was going to pursue that chance. I didn't think that I deserved to have a second chance but I was hopeful that Jack still loved me enough to give me a second chance. And if he did, I would make sure that the rest of your lives together would be like a reward for him. I didn't deserve a reward, but it would certainly be great for me, too.
I bought a one-way ticket to Seattle and then realized how foolish that was. Jack and I had not talked in months and he would not know that I was coming to see him. If he opened his front door, saw me, and then slammed the door, I would need to return home. If he opened the door, pulled me inside and started kissing and hugging me and asked me to stay, I would still need to return home to give notice at my job, pack my stuff, and say goodbye to mom and dad.
I didn't know what would happen so I packed enough clothes to stay in Seattle for a week. I packed some casual clothes, some nice clothes, and - just in case everything went the way I hoped - I brought some very sexy lingerie. And I packed a bottle of KY. Wishful thinking!
Everything was packed when mom and dad got home. I told them that I was going to Seattle and I asked them to not tell Jack. Of course, I asked about how Jack was holding up and they told me that he had never mentioned me. That was rather devastating to hear! They explained that they had thought it best to not ask Jack about me but they did say that they had the impression that Jack was not dating anyone. They also thought that Jack was still in mourning for the loss of me and the loss of our baby. They never said that they thought I was doing the right thing but I could tell that I had their support.
They took me to the airport, wished me good luck, and kissed me good bye. The flight to Seattle was a long flight. I had only one stop - in Atlanta, of course - but the flight still took almost 8 hours. I thought of nothing but Jack the entire time. I thought about all the good times and I thought about the horrible sadness in the final days we were together. I really had no idea how Jack would react when he saw me, and I was nervous, anxious, unsettled . . . and I needed to get everything resolved. Living with such huge regrets is awful.
In my mind, I rehearsed what would happen when he opened the door. I thought about the possibility that he could slam the door in my face. Maybe he would invite me in, we would sit and talk, say a final farewell, and then I would go check in to a hotel for the night. Or maybe he would pull me inside and kiss me like lovers who are reunited after an unwanted separation.
The plane arrived is Seattle about 2:30 pm on Wednesday, and by the time I got my bags and rented a car, the local rush hour was beginning. I had mapped the route and also used the GPS on my phone to show me the way to Jack's apartment. Mom told me that Jack usually went into work early so he could leave early and he would probably get home around 4:30 pm. I expected that I would arrive at his place around 5 pm.
I arrived at the apartment complex and my stomach got even tighter than it had been throughout the day. For a moment, I thought that I might toss cookies . . . but I didn't. I found the building and I recognized Jack's car in the parking lot.
"He's home!" I thought. Part of me was afraid and would have preferred to wait before experiencing the inevitable, but a part of me was eager to learn my fate.
I pulled into a parking spot and left the car running as I checked myself in the mirror. "Stop procrastinating, Lynn!" I silently screamed at myself. I turned off the engine, exited the car, and approached his apartment.
I rang the doorbell and waited for a response. After a few seconds, I rang again. Still, there was no response. Had he perhaps seen me approaching and was refusing to answer the door because he didn't want to see me? I tried once more, again without success, and I turned to go back to my car. Maybe he had gone for a walk or maybe he was out with friends and someone else was doing the driving. I could go get something to eat and return in a few hours.
Then I heard Jack call my name!
"Lynn?"
* * *
That Wednesday began like any other work day. I got into the office by 7 am, so that I could avoid the worst of the rush hour traffic, and because I got much more accomplished in the morning hours. I left the office around 3:30 that afternoon, stopped at the grocery store on the way home, and got home around 4:45 pm.
