Chapter Seventeen
chapter seventeen
K at’s head pounded as the sun streamed straight from the skylight into her eyeballs. She could feel that it was late. When she grabbed her phone off the nightstand, it said 10:13 a.m. She fell back on the pillow, her mouth dry, as if she hadn’t had water for days.
The apartment was eerily quiet, and she sensed the absence of Jake. She put her phone back on the nightstand and saw the Tylenol and Gatorade. He must have left them for her, knowing she would be feeling rough this morning. She wondered, How many glasses of wine did I have? It had never seemed to empty, so technically one? The thought made her laugh for a moment, which made her head throb even more. She lay back on the pillow and, all at once, everything came flooding back to her—including their cloak-and-dagger move to avoid the paparazzi.
And then it hit her. And she remembered. At least she thought she did. She hoped it was a dream, but she had a vague recollection of calling him Ben. She put her head in her hands as a few hot tears came fast. Am I trying to fuck this up? Maybe she was. She’d finally let go, just a little, and she’d detonated a bomb into the middle of the two of them. Thinking back to the car ride, she felt like puking. Oh wait, she was going to puke. She ran to the bathroom to be sick, her body trying to expel last night. If only she could expel it from her mind.
As she walked out, she heard her text chime. She ran to her phone.
J: Drink the Gatorade.
J: I am done at noon today.
J: Be downstairs at 12:30.
J: We need to talk.
Her heart started to pound at the curtness of his texts. She replied with a simple thumbs-up. She texted Emily to let her know she was going to take the day with Jake—she canceled their routine status meetings.
She was waiting downstairs when the car pulled up promptly at 12:30 p.m. She swung open the door, anxious to clear the air with Jake. He was on the phone, deep in conversation. He gave her a half nod of acknowledgment, but nothing else. From what she could hear from the one-sided conversation, he was talking to Roger. They were discussing the next shoot coming up in just under six weeks. Jake was frustrated at the timeline, and it didn’t sound as if there was any movement in the schedule.
Kat could feel the iciness radiating from Jake, so she stared out the window. The day alternated between sun and hazy mist, a frenetic fall day that couldn’t decide if it would cling to summer a little longer or let winter begin to take hold. She wished the weather would make up its mind. She wished she knew where the hell he was taking her.
Thirty minutes later, they turned into a parking lot, and Jake finally ended his call. “Stop the car. This is fine,” he said to the driver.
Kat read the sign— SKJOLDUNGESTIEN LAND PARK —and she could see a beautiful forest, just beginning to turn with fall colors. They were coming to neutral ground, she realized. A place where neither of them had an upper hand.
“This is gorgeous. How did you find this place?” She asked, trying to get him to say something … anything.
“Google.” He said in a clipped tone. He barely glanced in her direction before he opened his door, exited the car, and slammed it closed.
She took a pause before finally getting out of the car. As she stepped out of the car and looked around, she also realized that, due to the weekday and the misty, cool weather, it was an incredibly private place where she saw no other cars or people.
Jake pulled a backpack out of the trunk of the car, put two bottles of water in the side pockets and slipped it on. She stood there awkwardly, watching him. He didn’t say a word.
“Have you brought me out to the woods to kill me, Mr. Soprano?” she tried to joke, knowing it would fall flat, but wanting nothing more than to return to the Jake and Kat of last night, before her stupid slipup. “I wouldn’t blame you,” she mumbled.
“Ha,” he said without a hint of humor, “so you do remember?” He stared at her for a moment, and the hurt on his face nearly knocked her to her knees. He motioned toward a path to the right, turned, and started walking briskly, his body language challenging her to catch up to him.
They walked side by side for a minute. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t know what else to say.”
She knew he was hurt, and it was her fault. Multiple times, he’d laid his heart at her feet, and she’d walked over it, seemingly without care. She glanced over as they were walking to see Jake looking deep in thought, his face blank, showing her nothing. She was aware that he had the ability to control the outward expression of his emotion and that, more than anything, scared her.
“Please say something,” she said, putting her hand on his arm as they walked together under the trees. He moved his arm away from her touch.
He remained quiet and pensive, and Kat thought he might never speak. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. “Kat, I just need to know, is this why you keep pushing me away? Do you know how much it sucks to try to convince someone to be in your life? God. Even saying it makes me sound pathetic. Is it him? Do I just not measure up … to him? I think what we have … I don’t know … it could be something, but I can’t—I won’t—compete with a ghost.”
Kat fought back tears as she both longed for the past and was frightened for the future he wanted and pushed her toward. She didn’t look at Jake in the same light as Ben. Ben would forever be canonized as an amazing and tragic person; she hadn’t known him long enough to be aware of and accept all his flaws. Death, especially young death, takes broken pieces and smooths them together over time, making them beautiful, flawless objects. It was easy to think of Ben as perfect, someone to long for and put up on a pedestal. It would be impossible for anyone to measure up to his memory. Jake was right. No one should compete with the dead.
She considered her words carefully. “This city … this city is complicated for me. I haven’t been honest with you … but I didn’t mean to be dishonest … I just didn’t say anything.…” Now it was her turn to ramble. She finally blurted it out. “I’ve been here before, with Ben,” she said, speaking fast. “I didn’t say anything because it didn’t come up. You called and then I came here. I feel like I should have told you. But I didn’t know how to bring it up. Also, it was so many years ago, I didn’t think I would see him so vividly once I got here. So yes, he is on my mind , especially here—but no, you are not competing with him inside my heart .”
“Shit, Kat,” he finally said, his frustration palpable. He scratched his head and ran his hands through his hair, growing damp from the misty weather. “I wish I’d known. And I’m pissed that you didn’t tell me. I can’t ask you everything , you need to just tell me some things. I want to know them.” He looked over at her. “I can only imagine how hard it’s been to be here.”
Kat paused before answering. “It’s been hard. But, it hasn’t been as hard as I thought it might be. Jake, please understand, it’s been over five years since he died. I’ve lived a lot of life in five years. I’ve lived more years after him than I had with him,” she mused.
He had only been in her life for three years. What kind of messed up universe is that? She had only known Ben for 11.1 percent of her entire life. Her fucked-up brain kept doing that math each year, and the percentage of time kept going down the longer she lived without him.
“Five years … enough time that he lives in my brain and my heart, but I no longer hope to wake from some bad dream and see him around every corner.” She paused to make sure he really understood that she had come here for him, not to live out a memory of Ben. “I would be lying though, if I didn’t admit that I feel, at times, forever broken.”
She took a breath and told him what had held her back this entire time. “Jake, I don’t know if I have anything left,” she started. “I think sometimes that I’ve just lost too many people. My heart is so used to losing and grieving that I don’t actually know how to live in the present. I wonder if I even know how to love.”
There, she’d said it. She was letting him see her darkest fear. The fear that she was incapable of letting herself go enough to love someone completely—especially someone like Jake, who wouldn’t accept anything less than unbridled, authentic love. A tear fell and she brushed it away and turned her head, hoping he wouldn’t see.
“Kat, I haven’t been fair to you,” he said as they walked. “I’m selfish,” he said, his voice tight.
Kat opened her mouth to contradict him, but he put up his hand and continued. “Listen, I am. I know that. I live a life focused on myself, literally,” he said, letting out a dry laugh. “I’ve been unfair to you. I asked you to come here just because I was having a hard time, which is the epitome of self-centeredness.
“And I disregarded the parts of your life that don’t center around me. To me, you only live in my mind from the moment we became friends, lovers … you exist from the moment you meant something to me . You had a life before me. God, I never think about that. Like, when I think about the time I learned you’d moved in next door, I conveniently only think about you and Becca, not even the time before, when Ben was alive. How fucked-up is that?”
He shook his head and continued. “I used to get updates in emails from my mom almost daily about the neighbor with cancer, his wife, and their newborn daughter. It feels surreal to me that I was so close and so far from your life at that time. I don’t connect that family to you. You are in my mind, only as you, and you with me . You’re my safe place to land. I’ve asked you to jump into this with me, all the while ignoring your past, and that’s not fair.”
She appreciated his recognition of the differences in their lives, but she didn’t agree that it was selfish to disconnect her from his minimal knowledge of her life with Ben. It was one of the many reasons she existed so well in his orbit. His awareness of that time in her life was through others, but he hadn’t witnessed the horror of watching a family disintegrate. She wasn’t another man’s widow in his mind. She existed in a space between tragedy and the remaking of her life post-Ben, and Jake allowed her to be present only among the living.
“That’s not selfish,” she said, as she couldn’t help but reassure him. “I love that you see me, but as I am right now . It’s hard to have people think they know you … define you … by something that’s only part of you, but not the whole you.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, the sarcasm clear in his voice.
Kat realized that he did indeed understand the feeling of living in an alternate reality, locked into your own private prison of others’ seemingly intimate views of your life. They had a common understanding of a life before and a life after.
They walked in silence and Jake was the first to speak. “I want to know all of you,” he started. “You only let me see the controlled, perfect, safe you. I saw the messy, sloppy you last night, and I also want to know the profoundly sad you. I don’t want a version of you. I want you .”
He looked over at her as they navigated the trees and rocks. The rain started to drizzle around them. They were sheltered by the thick canopy of trees, but it added a somber quality to their conversation. Kat couldn’t speak. When talking about herself, the words never came easy. She didn’t know if she could ever let him see all of her. She didn’t know if she even understood all of herself.
He broke the silence as they walked. “I met him once, Ben. I’d been home from a shoot in Vancouver, stopping off in New York for the weekend. I met him in the elevator. I’d known who he was and that he was fighting for his life, but all I managed was a stupid ‘hi.’” He cleared his throat. “Um, I will say, even sick, that man looked like he could snap me like a twig.” He let out a small laugh, and Kat looked over at him and smiled. “Kat, tell me about him. I want to know who he was, about your life together.…”
She hesitated. “Jake, why do you want to know? It’s in the past,” she said, her words tentative. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She hadn’t talked to anyone about Ben since his death. She liked keeping him in the past. It was easier.
“Ben, and what happened to him, has everything to do with who you are today,” he said. “If I want to know you, really know you, I need to know,” he replied. His voice was firm and tinged with kindness.
His ask was fair, even if it wasn’t easy. He had been open with her about all the parts of him—the good, the messy, the selfish—and she owed him some honesty. She took a deep breath and began the narrative of the best and worst years of her life.
“Before he got sick, he was a firefighter,” she started. “I met him when I was still at NYU. It was the last year of my MBA.”
Kat had been a resident adviser and there was a small fire—a smoking bag of popcorn left too long in a microwave. It wasn’t a real fire, but enough to set off the smoke detector and make a jumpy freshman pull the fire alarm. The entire dorm had evacuated and stood outside in their pajamas on a cold February night. A fire engine arrived, and a rookie fireman was sent to investigate the “non-fire” fire. Part of her duty as the RA was to be the leader/spokesperson whenever any potentially dangerous situation arose.
The rookie fireman was Ben. Even though it had been a very straightforward non-fire fire, he was thorough in his investigation. He interviewed six different people in the dorm. Kat accompanied him for every interview, each time reminding him that they knew it was Casey Nova that left the popcorn in the microwave. He’d lectured the entire dorm on fire safety and asked that appropriate cook times be posted in the kitchen.
Later that night, Kat emailed Ben all her notes from every single interview in case he’d needed them, along with her version of the event. He’d emailed her back five minutes later. Her notes were so detailed, he’d no longer needed to write the report. His shift ended at 10:00 p.m. As a thank-you, he’d offered to buy her a drink. She’d said yes.
Jake murmured, almost to himself, “He was a firefighter, wow. Badass.”
“He was, but also more sensitive and introverted than he appeared.” She smiled, remembering the dichotomy between his appearance and his personality.
Ben’s thick head of brown hair, beard, and host of tattoos made people believe he was intimidating, but he’d been the most calm and gentle person Kat had ever met. Ben had had an intense, internal need to take care of people. She’d been instantly smitten.
Their relationship happened fast. On their third date, she’d found herself crammed in an Irish pub on 11th Street. They had been out with the off-duty members of his precinct. It had been hot and loud, with cheap beer flowing freely. He had wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the boisterous crowd. The entire bar had vibrated with energy, and she’d felt so protected in his arms.
His hair had been wet with sweat, and his eyes heavy from too much beer. He’d whispered in her ear, “I’m going to marry you. Just you wait.” She’d chalked it up to his drunken state. But six months later, after she’d graduated, they were married.
Kat paused before saying any more, and before Jake could comment, she said, “Yes, I know it’s not like me, marrying him so quickly, not overthinking everything and creating long timelines.” She laughed at herself. That person, the Kat with Ben, felt foreign to her now.
Jake shook his head. “It makes perfect sense to me, actually, for a person who wanted an umbrella of safety. Firefighter. Solid choice.”
“Right?” she asked, choking back tears. Jake saw her so clearly. Of course, he would understand why she chose Ben. “You know, I was a different person then, and he liked things to be simple. He balanced me in a way that I just didn’t have to … I don’t know how to explain it … didn’t have to try so hard at life.”
She knew Ben would be disappointed in her now—so precise, so rational, tightly controlling every aspect of her and Becca’s life. He had given her the safe space she’d needed. Until he’d gotten sick.
They started walking again, up an incline that made them both breathe a little heavier. The rocks in front of them looked wet and glistening. Jake took the lead, and once he’d hiked up the rocks, he turned and held out his hand to steady her. Once they were both at the top of the hill, Jake continued to keep their hands connected. She was silent, unable to continue. She was wary of arriving at the horrible end of their love story.
Jake spoke, breaking the silence. “When did he get sick?”
Kat knew he wasn’t going to let up until she found it inside her to tell him the complete story. “It wasn’t long after we got married. I’d found out I was pregnant. Honestly, Becca was a bit of an ‘oops.’ I’d wanted to wait a few years, but I think the universe knew that we needed to live fast. Ben had been thrilled. Being a firefighter and a dad had been the two biggest dreams of his life, and within a few years, he’d achieved both.”
Kat had never in her life felt more cherished. During the first trimester, she’d been very sick, and every single thing had made her ill. Ben had also consistently been not feeling well and often had stomach issues. He used to call it “sympathy puking.” As she’d gotten into the second trimester, she’d felt better, but Ben had not. She’d finally convinced him to get checked out. They were going to have a baby, and she’d needed him.
“Stomach cancer,” she said. “Stage four. Out of fucking nowhere. Honestly, I thought he hadn’t felt well from eating all that shitty firehouse food. I had no idea he’d been really sick.” She laughed a laugh that did not hold a hint of humor. “He was twenty-eight. What twenty-eight-year-old just gets stomach cancer?”
She was quiet for a time. “It was aggressive. He didn’t even tell me how much until it got really bad. He’d been determined to fight and said the ‘I’m going to beat it’ bullshit. But I believe he knew. He’d asked his parents for money to get us a good apartment and created a village around me, because he knew he wouldn’t be there.” She knew he’d been trying to take care of her, even in the face of death.
She didn’t know how much more she wanted to—or could—relive. She rarely talked about Ben’s illness. It was easier to compartmentalize and not think about it, and she’d gotten really good at pretending her life with Ben was nothing more than a bad dream.
“So, long story short, we moved next door to your parents when I was seven months pregnant, and Ben was in the thick of chemo. Did I ever tell you how amazing your family was to us, especially once Becca was born? Did you know your dad used to accompany Ben to chemo every Wednesday?” The cancer center was no place for a baby, and Kat wouldn’t leave Becca when she was only weeks old. “Your dad organized poker games during the infusions. He and Ben became very close.” She thought back to how Ben came to find a way to enjoy Wednesdays.
“And your mom. I couldn’t have survived it all without her. One day, she must have heard Becca wailing all morning and knocked on my door. I thought she was annoyed from the noise, but she just took Becca in her arms. She had a magical ability to calm her. She took her over to their apartment and put her down for a nap. After I took a shower and checked on Ben, I went next door. God, I felt like an inadequate mom who couldn’t even care for her own baby. Your mom … well, she just held me. She just let me cry it out that day—ugly, messy crying. I think I cried more that day than at Ben’s funeral. After that, she took Becca nearly every afternoon, not only giving me a break, but also giving Ben and me time together.”
Jake gave her a smile. “No, I hadn’t heard all this, but I did know about the afternoons with Becca. Those I heard about in detail. I never knew how it had started, but I knew my mom loved it. Loves her.”
Kat gave him a weary smile before finishing her story. “Jake, it was horrible to watch someone so strong just wither away. He died right before Becca’s first birthday. I used to be so pissed that he didn’t make it to her birthday. It was a milestone I kept in my head, but the only purpose it served was to disappoint me. Life is cruel and unpredictable. He promised to protect me, and then I had to watch him die. I was mad at him, at the universe, at everything. For a long time.” She paused. “I still am,” she said whispered under her breath.
The one person who had promised to keep her safe had died right before her eyes, and in many ways, she would never get over it. That undercurrent of disappointment clouded her ability to feel joy, and that, more than anything, made her angry.
They walked along the trail for a bit longer. The mist stopped, and sunshine peeked out from behind the clouds, mocking their morose conversation.
Jake cut through the silence. “I remember my mom saying he put up a strong fight, Kat. I’m sure he did everything he could to stay with you, to protect you.”
His statement broke her. The tears came rushing from her eyes, and she finally let them out without shoving them back in. The dam had burst, and the darkness was flowing out. She saw him look over at her with concern on his face, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he stopped and pulled her into a tight embrace. Kat felt the cover of his body cocooning her into the web of his arms. He asked for all the parts of her, and she desperately wanted him to see her, really see her, for the first time. She didn’t let anyone see how fractured she was inside; only inches into that calm exterior was the messiest of humans.
“I’ve never told anyone, but.…” she paused, considering whether to continue. She decided he needed to know the truth. “At the end, I wanted him to die.” And with that, she buried her face in his chest and let the tears flow. “It was unexplainably hard. He was so sick and getting worse, and I had a newborn who was so needy. I was suffocating inside my own life. He felt like a burden to us and decided to end chemo early,” she took a shuddered breath, “and I let him. I could have worked harder to keep him with us longer … he could have made it to her birthday. I should have tried to keep him with Becca longer, but I just gave up.”
She saw Jake open his mouth to speak, but she didn’t want him to make her feel better. She cut him off before he spoke. “I never give up on anything. But I gave up on him,” she said. She pushed against his chest and pulled away, taking a few steps forward. “There, you wanted to know me. That’s me. Hope you don’t get sick one day, because I’ll just let you die.”
Jake caught up to her grabbing her arm. “Kat,” he started, as he pulled her to face him, “you know that’s not true. You were facing an impossible time, and nothing you could have done would’ve changed the outcome.”
She tried to pull herself out of his grasp. She didn’t want his kindness, she wanted to punish herself and live in the guilt of that decision. It was easier to live with the power of anger than allow the waves of sadness to crash in on her, but Jake held tight and pulled her closer to him, using his physical dominance over her. She buried her head in his shoulder so he couldn’t see her cry. She felt him step back and move his hands to her face, forcing her to look at him.
“Don’t fight grief with shame,” he said. “It’s an impossible way to live.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her tears. With each one, he showered her with love. “You are good. You are strong. You are beautiful. You deserve to be happy.”
She tried to look away. He held her face firmly, not allowing her to break away.
“I love you.”
She questioned for a moment if he’d really spoken those words or if it was simply wind blowing in the canopy of trees above them. She tilted her face up to him to meet his lips. His kiss was gentle, bringing her back to the present.