Chapter 28 Tyler
Tyler
Last night’s shift was long and hard. Had I planned this out better, I would have told her we would do this another day. But it feels like if I push this off, I might miss my shot to explain myself.
If I ask for us to wait another day, I’m scared she’ll just slap me with divorce papers.
Then I won’t get another opportunity to tell her what was going through my head years ago when I wrote her that God-awful letter.
There’s still a high likelihood she’ll walk away from me and never look back.
But I’ll feel better knowing I told her.
That’s what it’s about, right? Clearing the air between us is the healthy, yet harder, route.
I can feel the nerves multiplying as I drive over.
The air-conditioning is pumping on overdrive because I’m already sweating and it’s not even nine in the morning.
I’ve been opting for my truck since everything happened on the motorcycle.
Maybe once I get this off my chest, things will finally fall back into place.
Things have felt unstable. If I could choose how I wanted the chips to land, I’d wish to have her as a permanent fixture in my life.
I fucked things up years ago, but I’ve felt that gaping hole as my punishment.
Now, all I want is make things right because she’s always been a breath of fresh air for me.
I still remember that flutter I’d get seeing her letters arrive when I was overseas in the Army; it would be a jolt to the system.
She always brought me the energy I needed to sustain me until I’d hear from her again.
There’s something to say about feeling a connection to someone when you’re away and feeling like you have little association to the outside world—she was my reason for breathing more often than not.
The nights were long in the Army. Knowing Indy was a part of my life, first as a friend then as something more, was so special.
The problem is, I skirted around my emotions when it came to telling her. That’s where I first failed her. Then I tripped up at every passing from that point forward. Eventually, I fucked up for good with that last letter, and I never returned to her to fix the error of my ways.
I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but I’m hoping she’ll find it in her to forgive me anyway. If she grants me more than that, it’ll be a win. Plus, the more I’ve seen her recently, the more I’m reminded of why I cared for her back then.
She’s sewn into the fabric of me and I’ve grown into who I am today because of what we had all those years ago. I’ve learned to be a better man thanks to her, although I see she’s put up walls thanks in part to the things I’ve done to her.
The moment I arrive at her place, I take a breath and park.
Unlike Jerry and Scarlet’s place, where they are set in the suburbs, Indiana lives in a townhome in downtown Boston.
From the last of our letters we exchanged, she was still not on the best of terms with her parents, so I assume she continues to rise up on her own merit.
I can’t help but look at her surroundings and think how proud I am of her and all she’s done for herself.
Not only that, she did it while raising her brother’s child.
Not the easiest of circumstances, yet she found a way to make her life successful and one she can be proud of.
The pride that builds inside me for her and everything she’s overcome and achieved is overflowing.
Indy was so scared of the future that night we crossed paths at the Hoover Dam, yet here we are, eleven years later, with our foundations set. She’s found a new dream and flourished in her own way. This life is hers and hers alone.
I step out of the truck, grab the coffees I picked up on the way, and move a hand through my hair, taking a deep breath in hopes of calming myself down.
No matter what goes on after this, I have to make peace with the fact I’ll do my best in explaining myself.
Much like Rodney told me throughout our sessions years ago, I can’t change my decisions.
I have to own up to my mistakes and hope she sees how I’ve grown from there.
I was distraught and angry, taking it out on anything and everyone around me.
I left my life in disarray. But Indy was the easiest person to hurt and I did that.
The saddest part was, I never sought her out to fix it, mostly out of fear of what she’d say.
I needed to work on myself first, then I used the excuse of time, feeling like she had moved on.
Seeing her all over again all these years later has been flooding my thoughts and consuming my emotions. I realize now we can’t just leave everything unresolved. Plus, just the few times we’ve seen each other, I can feel the attraction we have like a live wire.
I’ve never experienced what I had with her with anyone else. I’ve looked—damn have I searched for it with another woman—no one grabbed at my heart the way Indy has, nor do I think anyone will.
Especially the way I’ve watched my friends fall to their knees and become victim to their partners—I know there’s only one woman that has taken hold of my heart in such a way.
Indiana Ranton is the love of my life and I not only let her walk away, I pushed her as far from my vicinity as possible, and made sure she’d never come back.
As I stand in front of her door, my heart is hammering in my chest and my mouth is dry. I’m not sure I’ll be able to speak when she swings that door open.
I ring the bell and wait, hearing her hurried steps on the other side.
The minute she swings it open, it feels like I’m transported to six years prior, to that night I surprised her.
That weekend when everything changed. That weekend when it confirmed everything—when I knew for certain I fell in love with my wife.
Her hair is up in a messy bun, although this time, she has glasses on, and she seems she’s in a bit of a rush. I take in her outfit—again she’s in an oversized shirt, no band on it this time, with a tank top underneath, and shorts that reveal her toned legs.
I do little to hide my eyes from perusing the beauty in front of me.
I take her in, every little inch of her a sight for my sore eyes.
She’s barefoot, her toes manicured a hot pink, something that hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known her.
She’s always loved that color, even when we were teens.
“Hey,” she says, her tone a little clipped. It catches me off-guard.
“Hi. You okay?” I can’t help the way I look at her a little confused. Did I miss something between when I texted her after leaving the station to right now? “I brought coffee.”
I hold my hand up to show off the peace offering, but it does little to break her icy exterior.
“Thanks. Sorry, but I got pulled into a last-minute meeting. Come in.” She motions for me to follow her in. “Let me try to wrap this up. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll be right out?”
She gives me a small smile, but then she disappears off down the hall to what I assume is her office or room. I go into the kitchen and set the coffee cups down, not sure what to do with myself as I wait for Indy to return.
Soon I feel a little body move next to my legs. I look down and discover Darth zig-zagging between my calves.
“Hey, little guy,” I say, bending down to offer a scratch under his chin.
He leans into my affection, his purrs getting loud the longer I scratch him.
I proceed to pet him behind his ear. He leans in further, enjoying the attention.
Soon, he’s sprawled on his back, letting me give him a little love on his belly.
This cat is more dog than cat and it’s hard not to smile at the way he’s letting me give him so much love today.
He’s got bright-green eyes, and a flat face. Darth lets me pick him up and I’m cuddling him when Indy comes out to greet me again. She stops in her tracks.
“Hey. Look who came out to greet me,” I say, my hand scratching under the cat’s chin, his purrs now loud enough for both of us to hear.
“That’s surprising. Darth has really imprinted on you.” Indy walks over and points to the coffees to see which is hers. I jut my chin at the one I brought for her. “Thanks for grabbing me one. I needed something fancier than the Nespresso I made this morning.”
“Everything okay at work?” I ask, seeing she’s only slightly less stressed than she was when she answered the door.
“Already putting out fires and it’s not even ten in the morning.” She rolls her eyes. “We had an author go rogue in an interview and the PR department was not happy. Sort of causes an uproar, but I couldn’t go in today so I had to handle it from here.”
“We could’ve rescheduled. I don’t mind,” I say as I let the cat jump from my arms.
“That’s appreciated, but you’re not the reason why I had to be home.
I have my infusion for my Crohn’s medication today; I do it with home health.
The joys of chronic illness,” she says on a sigh.
“Anyways, my nurse was supposed to be here earlier, so I was running around getting my workout done, then getting Noah to school. But then my nurse had to push the infusion to later. Add this emergency at work, it threw off my whole morning. I don’t like when my schedule gets discombobulated.
” Indy moves through her kitchen, filling up her water.
“I remember,” I say, sipping my own coffee.
She looks over her shoulder, drawing her eyebrows together. I don’t know if it bothers her that I know her so well. Or maybe she doesn’t like that I remember these little parts of her.
“Do you want to sit down in the living room? It might be more comfortable,” she offers.
I nod and grab my coffee. I follow her, where I see Darth is now perched in a cat tower near the window.
Indy sits down on a portion of the sectional and I take a seat further away, giving her some space. I wish I could sit closer to her, but I’m treading lightly.
“I’m going to jump to the chase, Tyler. I feel like each time we get together we get interrupted. I don’t want that to happen this time. And something about you—honestly us—I feel like I have a weak spot when it comes to you. I want to hear you out before we move forward with the divorce.”
So, she’s planning on moving forward with divorcing me.
Something about that leaves me feeling unsettled.
I look down at my cup of coffee. I don’t know why I feel a part of my heart break knowing this thing with us will be ending, but I was naive to think it would continue.
What I did to her was a betrayal, even if it was a lie on my end.
She didn’t know that, and she’s lived believing I was something I wasn’t.
“I hurt you and I’m sorry,” I start. “I wasn’t in a good place when I wrote you that last letter.”
She sits there, her eyes trained on me, her back straight, and I can see she’s trying hard not to react. Then she looks down at her cup, fiddling with the lid. She stays silent, so I continue.
“If I’m being frank, I lied in that letter,” I tell her.
Her head snaps up, surprise etched on her face. “What? Why?”
“I wrote that letter shortly after losing Georgie. I spiraled. I was numb and reacted badly. I allowed my emotions to guide me and I pushed the best thing in my life away from me instead of keeping you closer.” I keep my eyes trained on hers, hoping she feels the sincerity in what I’m saying.
She sits there, not wavering from her spot for a few beats, until she finally stands and walks off. I’m thrown by the reaction. I follow her frame with my gaze, wondering if she’s simply done with this conversation, but soon she’s back with a piece of paper in her hands.
“So, you’re telling me that this letter”—she holds out what I now see is the letter—“these words you wrote me meant nothing? What part was the lie Tyler? There were quite a few things in that letter that I take issue with.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.
“Let me rephrase, Tyler. Because for you, what was apparently a lie, what was written as a result of pain; something that was numbing, and an emotional reaction; you’re telling me this letter is something I should ignore?
Because this letter set me off on a new path in my life.
It launched my heart into a new direction. ”
She throws the letter in my direction and it falls at my feet.
I see my writing staring back at me. I look down at it; the person I was when I wrote it feels like someone else, it seems to me like that was a lifetime ago; yet I know, to her, it probably feels like yesterday.
I grab the paper, which looks worn, as if she’s reread it a million times.
It tugs at my heart, the thought of her holding this page in her hand, doing exactly that. I pull my gaze back to meet hers.
She continues, “I haven’t been the same since the day I walked to my mailbox to find that envelope waiting for me.
I have never looked in the mirror and seen the carefree person that once existed before receiving that letter.
You did that, Tyler. You cut that version of myself out of my life.
So now you sit here and tell me to listen to your words and accept them as the truth? Give me one good reason why?”