Thought I Knew You(91)

We were at an impasse. I did see that, but there was nothing I could do. Ultimately, it was up to Drew to stay or go, but I couldn’t make it better.

“Could you have faith?” I asked. He tilted his head, a silent question. “Could you trust me when I say that I will be able to give myself to you? In time, I mean. I just can’t do it now. I’m pulled in too many directions; too many people need me. I need you to not need me.”

“I think I’ll always need you,” he answered after a long pause. “But I’m staying, if that’s what you’re asking. At some point, I need to come before Greg. You do realize that. We need to come first, eventually.”

I nodded because I understood what he was saying, but I knew that everything was different. Drew and I, as a couple, could never come first. My heart hurt as I thought about how close I had come to losing Drew, while I wondered if I still would. The road ahead was so long, I couldn’t be sure he would stay. And what about later, when Greg came home? Could I put Drew ahead of Greg’s treatments? Everything I did for Greg, I did because of the girls, so wouldn’t that be akin to putting Drew before my children?

I longed for Brigantine. The idyllic summer days, too short and too few, and felt sorry for the courtship we’d been cheated out of.





We never talked about it again, daily life providing a patch, a false sense of security over the hole in our relationship. I didn’t know for sure if it would get better, or if we would get stronger, but I had to believe I would eventually be able to give myself to him fully. I had to believe he would stay long enough for that to happen.

All I knew was that I had to, at least, have faith.





Chapter 39



I brought photo albums from various vacations: Maine, our Boston camping trip, the Outer Banks, North Carolina. Greg and I were paging through them, telling the stories of the trips. He was improving, but sometimes he wouldn’t admit when his memory failed him. We sat close on the couch, knees touching. In some ways, I had never felt closer to Greg. We had never spent so much time just talking. Our friendship had a sibling feel to it. I didn’t know if that was because of Drew or because Greg had become such a different person. Greg had become soft-spoken, quiet, and insecure. His emotions overflowed to the point where I grew impatient. He cried at every visit, sad about his new life, and frustrated with his inability to retain simple facts.

“I feel stupid all the time,” he complained. “Like I can’t keep up. And you look at me like I’m a child.”

“Greg, I don’t think you’re a child. I think we need to work on this. Together, okay?” I wanted him to get better. I needed him to come back to New Jersey, so we could make decisions and move on with our lives. I reached out and touched his shoulder.

He leaned forward, and before I could stop him, he kissed me. His lips felt familiar, and I felt warmth bloom from my center. Instinctively, I kissed back, my mouth opening to his in a fleeting need to restore order to the unrelenting chaos. The kiss gained intensity, comforting only in its familiarity, and for a brief second, I closed my eyes and pretended the last two years had never happened. But they did happen. I pushed back, gazing into his deep brown eyes.

“I’m sorry…” Greg started, but then, he slammed his fist down on his knee and stood. “You know what? I’m not really sorry. You’re my wife. I’m allowed to kiss you.”



I took a deep breath to steady myself for the shock about to come, but I couldn’t put it off anymore. “Greg, sit down. I need to tell you something.”

He chose to sit on the opposite end.

“We aren’t married anymore. The courts granted my petition for a divorce.” The words rushed out of me, grateful to be free.

“What? What does that mean?” He looked incredulous. And angry.

“It means I needed to move on with my life. I didn’t know where you were. We thought you were dead, but without proof, I couldn’t… move on.” I faltered, unsure of how much detail to divulge.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You met someone else.”

I nodded.

He paused for a moment, and then he said, “Drew.”

I nodded again, and he sank back against the arm of the sofa, the anger drained, replaced with defeat. Up until that moment, I had yet to talk about Drew. I’d avoided his name in all our stories, our memories. I didn’t know if Greg had any recollection of him.

“Greg, it’s not what you think. We—”

“I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what I think,” he replied dryly. He appeared thoughtful. “Drew was always there, in the background. With me out of the way…” His voice trailed off, and he leaned back, a small self-satisfied smile playing on his lips.