Page 56 of Then You Happened
My past.
My future.
And just be.
And I try, I really do, but every few seconds, flashbacks of my past sneaks back through. Fletcher’s anger. His carefully chosen words on why I should stay close, and my suspicion that maybe my accident really wasn’t an accident.
“C’mon, Rubes.” I dig my heels into her side to spur her on even though she doesn’t need it. She already knows what to do. The need to run is coursing through her veins just as sure as her blood is.
Memories flicker through my mind as quickly as her feet do across the ground.
Happy beginnings and wedded bliss giving way to the stress to succeed and financial strain. Late night lovemaking dissipating into cold sheets beside me as he worked in the bunkhouse so as not to wake me up.
Sweet nothings replaced by harsh words, and excuses made to explain away the changes in him or between us. Justifications that he was simply trying to make this work. That he was under so much pressure to succeed since our budget was tight and money was running thin.
Thunder rumbles overhead and startles me from my thoughts. It’s only then that I realize there are tears staining my cheeks. It’s only then that I realize how much hurt and pain and guilt I’ve kept pent up.
But it’s the letter.
The goddamn letter that I don’t even have to have in front of me to know every word written in it.
TATUM,
By the time you get this, I’ll be gone.
I’m sorry. You deserve better than a letter telling you I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better than a husband who can’t seem to make things work. You deserve the man you thought I was but couldn’t seem to be.
My leaving has nothing to do with me not loving you. Quite the opposite, actually. It’s that I’ve let you down. All my promises have fallen flat. Everything I told you we’d make of this life, I’ve ruined or lied about so much that I don’t have the courage to face you and explain the what or why. To apologize that I wasn’t enough. To tell you we’re in over our heads and it’s all my fault. To tell you that, no matter how much I love you, I can’t fix the mistakes I’ve made.
I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. Then again, I’ve never been enough for you. I thought I could be, but I was wrong.
I thought I could hide all of this from you, but I can’t. I thought I could protect you from knowing . . . but I failed.
I’m leaving so you can have a chance at a better life.
Next time, you’ll do better than me.
Next time, you’ll find someone who keeps his promises.
Next time, you won’t give up everything you love for someone else.
Next time, he’ll give you what you deserve.
Next time, you’ll be able to find someone who deserves the love you give.
Next time . . .
I’m sorry. Know that you were who kept me hanging on. It was your love I took for granted. I just can’t go on like this.
-Fletch
RUBY SENSES SOMETHING is wrong because she slows as the sobs wrack my body. As I hunch over the saddle horn and wrap my arms around her neck, I let myself feel all the hate and regret and guilt.
I’m so sick of caring.
So sick of worrying.
Next time.
