Chapter 18 #3
“Yes!” Hannah took it from her and held it in the air like a trophy, then she beamed a megawatt smile at Janie.
“Okay, so you want to know why I bought the ones I did?” She barely waited until Janie had nodded.
“I got the doves for you because they’re a symbol of a new beginning, which is what we’re doing.
And I got this one for me because I never want to forget who you are to me ever again.
I always want to remember our love and who we are together. ”
Janie’s heart swelled against her chest, and she ran her fingers along Hannah’s jawline. “That’s so thoughtful. I love it.” She kissed Hannah’s cheek and stayed that way, so close, breathing in her scent for a moment longer before she drew away and waved her journal between them. “Homework.”
Hannah swallowed hard enough for Janie to hear, and she had to blink a few times before her eyes lost their drowsy desire. “Homework,” she said and sighed deeply.
Janie shifted to the other end of the couch and began to scribble.
With each thing she thought of, she found herself grinning like Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire Cat, and in no time at all, had to stop herself at ten when she could easily have written one hundred things.
She looked up at Hannah, who either had already finished or hadn’t begun because she couldn’t think of anything.
“Could you go first?” Janie edged forward, hoping Hannah’s list was finished, and she was just allowing her fear to catastrophize.
“I’m feeling pretty unlovable,” she said after Hannah frowned.
“Sure.” Hannah took a sip of wine and put her pen back in its loop on the book. “Okay. Ten things I love about you,” she said.
Janie sneaked a peak and saw that Hannah had underlined the task three or four times. She braced herself, not sure what to expect.
“One,” Hannah said, her voice soft. “The way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating on something. You scrunch up your face a little bit, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Heat rushed up Janie’s neck and into her cheeks. She hadn’t realized Hannah had noticed that.
“Two: how you always save the last bite of dessert for me, even when I tell you to just eat it. You cut it in half and insist we share, like you don’t want me to miss out on anything ever.”
“I do do that,” Janie said. “Remember that red velvet cake?”
Hannah nodded. “At Freddie’s. Before we went to the theater to watch Princess, Priestess, Witch.”
Janie remembered that night. Gabe had practically puppeteered Hannah into complimenting Janie. “It was our last date night before I moved into the guest room.”
“And the first one we’d had in months.” Hannah huffed out a long breath. “I’m sorry I stopped making time for you.”
Janie put her finger to Hannah’s lips. “Don’t. That’s the past.” She flicked her gaze to Hannah’s page. “Keep going. I’m enjoying this.”
Hannah kissed Janie’s finger. “Three: the fierce, protective look you get in your eyes when someone you love is threatened. I saw it when we were talking to David about your mother, and I’ve seen it a thousand times with the girls. It’s like watching a lioness protecting her pride.”
A steady warmth, warning of imminent tears, began to rise behind her eyes. But Janie didn’t try to stop it. She didn’t want to hide her emotions from Hannah; she didn’t want to hide anything from her again.
“Four: your laugh when something genuinely surprises you,” Hannah said, switching her focus between her journal and Janie.
“I’m not talking about the polite laugh you use for clients or strangers, but your full, unguarded laugh that sounds like pure joy.
I haven’t heard it enough lately, and I miss it. ”
“I miss it too,” Janie whispered.
“Five: the way you talk to the girls like they’re mini adults, always explaining like they’re capable of understanding.
Six: how you sing so beautifully when you’re cooking, or in the shower, or just moving around the house even though you swear you sound like a strangled cat.
” As Hannah continued through the list, her handwriting became less legible not because of her scrawling but because of Janie’s tears falling on the paper as she read along.
“Seven: the little crease that appears between your eyebrows when you’re worried about something.
Eight: how you text me random thoughts and pictures through the day just to share them and make me smile.
Nine: how you always remember tiny details about people’s lives and ask about them later.
That makes people feel so special.” She stopped and looked into Janie’s eyes.
“You’re so special. And finally, though I could fill this whole book tonight, a new favorite is the way you look at me, like you’re doing right now, like you can’t quite believe I still love you, when the truth is I’ve never stopped and never will.
” Hannah passed Janie a tissue and swiped at her own tears with another one. “Your turn?” she asked gently.
“Okay.” Janie wiped her face and re-opened her own notebook. “One: your creative passion when you talk about your work. Your whole face lights up when you’re describing a paint technique or showing me a color you mixed. You become this other version of yourself, completely absorbed and present.”
“Does that count as just one?” Hannah gulped.
“Yes, it does. Now shush and just listen, or I won’t get through this.
” Janie tapped Hannah’s leg. “Two: the gentle way you handle the girls even when you’re exhausted.
I’ve watched you be patient through tantrums and messes when I know you’re running on empty, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. ”
As Janie read through her list, she could recall a hundred examples of each little thing, and the recollections filled her heart and nourished her soul.
“And ten,” she said, “is the way you fought for us. Even when I’d given up on myself, even when it would have been easier to let me go, you fought.
You kept showing up. You didn’t let me disappear into my shame.
And I’ll spend the rest of my life being grateful for that.
For being given a second chance, and for keeping our family together. ”
They sat in silence for a moment, both crying, and Hannah wrapped her arms around Janie and held her tight. The weight of being truly seen by Hannah overwhelmed her, making it impossible for her to speak.
“We’re going to make it,” Hannah finally said, “aren’t we? We’re actually going to make it through this.”
“Yeah,” Janie said, and for the first time, she really believed it.
“I think we are. I was thinking about our first date. What if we spend Saturday afternoon walking around Pilsen? Maria’s told me so much about the neighborhood, and I’d love to explore it together.
See the murals, check out the shops, maybe grab some street tacos.
And we could end up at Maria’s café.” She glanced away briefly.
“I told her I wanted to bring you to meet her. She’s been such a huge part of my healing, Han.
I want you to know her, to understand what she’s done for me. ”
“I’d love that.” Hannah tucked a strand of hair behind Janie’s ear. “What time should I pick you up?”
Janie shook her head. “I’ll pick you up,” she said and wiggled her eyebrows. “Just like I did in Vegas. Two o’clock? That’ll give us a few hours before the café gets too busy.”
“It’s a date.”
Janie smiled. How crazy to be planning a first date after several years of marriage.
But still, something fluttered in her chest, though it wasn’t something she thought she could say out loud just yet.
Maybe anticipation or even hope… Whatever concoction it was, something dangerously close to joy was swimming around in there.
She remembered the medication she’d shoved in her purse and pulled it out. “I thought I’d take this now.”
“Is that why you didn’t want wine with dinner?” Hannah asked. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Dad. That’s not my story to tell.”
Janie nodded, popped the medication into her mouth, and washed it down with a swallow of water.
This is the beginning. Not the end of who I am, but the beginning of finding myself again.
With Hannah watching her intently, it was every bit as symbolic as she’d anticipated.
“Thank you,” she said. “For today. For the list. For seeing me.”
“Thank you for trusting me with your truth,” Hannah said. “And for taking that first pill.” She leaned in and kissed Janie, soft and sweet, and full of promise. “Can you stay tonight?”
Janie could. Of course she could. And God, she wanted to, even if she stayed in a separate room again.
Nothing was waiting at the apartment… Except work.
The therapy sessions had meant she’d missed hours at the office, and she had to play catch up tonight.
“I have to work to make up some time. I’m sorry.
” She glanced at her phone and saw it was nearly ten. “I have to go.”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Hannah caressed Janie’s cheek. “But please don’t exhaust yourself, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Hannah walked Janie out to her car and held the door open for her. Janie got in, and Hannah seemed hesitant to let her go.
“You’ll be back Saturday?” Hannah asked, leaning in the open window.
“I promise.” Janie reluctantly drove away, more hopeful than she’d been in months. Tomorrow, she’d take the second dose of medication. The day after that, the third. Day by day and week by week, she was going to get better. She was going to enjoy her gorgeous wife and their beautiful children.
Now all she had to do was hold onto that thin strand of optimism when the black dog of her depression tried to tug it from her like a chew toy.