What We Leave Behind (42 page)

“I love you, Daddy,” I said, just like I did when I was four. “And I miss you so much. I really do. I’m sorry I haven’t visited. I should have…so much has happened, so much I want to tell you.”

And the rabbi was right. The timing was off, but the unveiling was truly precious.

“With Michelle gone, there’s nothing else connecting us.” Jonas winced, and I continued. “Before she died, I’d had some tests done in LA. We just wanted to be sure there was nothing physically wrong with me, preventing me from getting pregnant; and you know me, I was already thinking the worst, resigned to the fact that I wasn’t ever going to have more kids. That’s what I was planning to tell you when I arrived at the hospital.”

“What did the doctors say?”

“That’s not the point. That’s not why I’m telling you this.”

I looked at him. We were standing on a bridge in Central Park. It was the kind of fall day you knew you would never forget. Jonas’s sweater was clinging to his body. I’d always remember the way his hands were tucked inside his pockets, like he was trying to stop something from happening.

“I’ve always been so good at reading signs. We should have seen it as a sign.” I was thinking about the hostile environment inside my womb that wouldn’t hold onto Jonas’s child. There was a medical name the doctors called it, but the name I gave it seemed appropriate. “We weren’t getting pregnant, and maybe it meant more than we were willing to accept. Maybe things aren’t as neatly tied together as we want them to be. I should have seen this coming.” Jonas was still listening. “We weren’t meant to save her, and we weren’t meant to be more to each other, not a second time, not when we’re still recovering from the mistakes from the first time around.”

When he opened his mouth, the wind picked up, and his words flew around me. “I love you, Jess. I always have. Tell me what I’m supposed to do with all that love.”

I had thirsted for those words for years, and now they were left to puddle around my feet. I did not need them anymore.

“If we weren’t meant to be together, why are we still in each other’s lives after all these years?” he asked. “Why does it hurt so much when you’re away from me?”

Our eyes met, and I was glad it was Jonas that I loved for the first time.

“I think you’re confused about the way you feel,” I said. “I think you
want
to feel those things again, and being here with me again reminds you of them, just as it’s tricked me into thinking the same; but we’re not kids anymore. What we used to feel back then won’t sustain us today. That part of my life needs to be over. You want more from me now because your life is incomplete. It breaks my heart to tell you that I’m not the missing piece. I thought I might be, but I’m not.”

He had never heard me speak so rationally before, not when it came to matters of the heart. He said, “You’re letting me go.”

“Yes.”

He turned away from me, choosing to watch the ducks wading in the pond instead.

“Jonas, a part of me will always love you. I’ll always care, but I can’t give you more than that. You deserve to have a child, your own child, with a woman you love.”

“I thought that was you.”

“You should build a life together. You’re free to do that now. There’s nothing tying us to one another anymore.”

“You don’t mean all this,” he said.

“There’s a man who loves me back home,” I began. “He gave me everything you never did, and I thanked him by walking away from our life and into your arms. I let you in first out of responsibility, then out of fear. I was angry. I was scared. You were the Band-Aid that was going to hide the gash, make it a little less painful. And then I realized something. It wasn’t
you
I wanted, not
you
today, but the
you
back then. I wanted that non-complicated life I had when I was almost sixteen, because this one is sometimes too painful to deal with.”

“We love each other, Jess. You can’t say you don’t feel it.”

A part of me wanted to drown in his words, forgetting everything that was important to me while the strokes of his words brushed against me. Have you ever imagined getting exactly what you wanted, closing your eyes, making that wish, and poof, it was yours? I was this close to it that afternoon, to realizing a dream that I had built up inside of me for a lifetime. I yielded from it, giving someone else the right of way, instead.

The timelessness of his words should have bothered me, but I was soothed by them, knowing what I had known all along. He had loved me once, maybe he still did, but our chance had passed. It was time to move on.

“I know we could be happy, Jess. We’ve always found ways to make each other happy.”

“We’ve also found ways to hurt each other.”

He turned away as if I’d wounded him then, and I had.

I was trying to say good-bye to a life that once brought me so much comfort. He was making it so difficult. When you love someone, when he is instilled inside of you, beyond words, the love doesn’t ever go away. Eventually, it changes shape, void of a physical presence, but the spirit lives on. Now it was weakened in the shadow of a living relationship. I sighed, knowing I was free from all the expectation, the countless suffering, and the ambiguity of childhood dreams. I would never forget Michelle, and I would never forget Jonas. They were the special gifts that came into my life and made it worthy, turning it into something meaningful rather than regretful. There was comfort in knowing that Michelle would look after my baby and that Jonas would find love again. He had a lot of it to give, just not to me.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“No,” I said. “There is one more thing.” I looked at him. I wasn’t sure the words would come out. I watched years of my life pass in his beautiful eyes, but it didn’t stop me. I said, “Good-bye, Jonas.”

And a minute passed, maybe two, and then he was gone.

I flew home to my family on a clear summer day. Marty was waiting for me at the door when I stepped into the house. He looked handsome and unafraid. It was like putting on glasses. My eyes were seeing things in a whole new light.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”

I said, “There’s something I need to tell you too.”

I followed him into the living room, where we sat across from each other just a few feet apart. I could make out his beautiful features, the lips I’d always loved to kiss, the cheek I’d rest my head upon. How could I tell him what our future held for us—no more children, a wife who was barren and infertile? Marty wanted a big family. He said that from early on. I couldn’t give it to him. I didn’t know how he would take it.

“You first,” he said.

“When I lost Joshua, my whole world was turned upside down. You know that.”

He nodded in agreement.

“I turned away from you, the only person I had ever trusted because I felt like a failure. You can’t imagine the depths of my grief and my pain. I felt unlovable, unworthy of someone like you.

“And then when I found out about Michelle, she became this mission for me, this way that I could redeem myself, make my wrongs right. It didn’t matter who I hurt along the way. As long as I could get that feeling of wholeness that had all but vanished when Joshua died.

“Michelle died,” I said. “It happened quickly. There wasn’t much warning.”

“I’m sorry, Jess,” he said, and I knew that he was.

“Something else happened…”

Apprehension seized Marty’s face and saddened his eyes. I took his hands into mine.

“I didn’t go to New York for another insemination,” I said. He was watching me carefully. “I found out about Michelle, and it was a horrible couple of days, but it confirmed everything I had known to be right and true about you, about us, about Jonas.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get pregnant, Marty. The doctor told me that there was some damage from the accident, and they did tests, and…” the words were flowing from my mouth, and as ugly as it was to say them, I wasn’t afraid. I knew how strong our love was. I knew I was not the empty, loathsome person I once believed myself to be. I deserved Marty’s love. I wanted Marty’s love. He would still give it to me. This couldn’t be the thing to tear us apart.

He didn’t say anything, not one word, not even, “Are they sure?”

“Did you hear what I said?” I asked.

“Yes, but I think you’re mistaken.”

“That’s not something even I would joke about.”

“The doctor’s office called the other day saying your tests came back within normal range, and they see no reason why you can’t have more children. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

I could barely hear him, my heart was pumping so wildly.

“They said they tried you on your cell phone in New York, but you didn’t answer.” My thoughts took me to Jonas’s bed and reckless sleep that roused dreams and nightmares.  It was a dream.  The scary words weren’t real.  The realization made what I was about to say next more powerful.

“You asked me once if I loved Jonas, and I didn’t answer because I didn’t know,” I said. “I know now.” I got down off the chair, kneeled in front of Marty with my hands holding onto his knees, and said, “I loved him, once, a long time ago, and it meant a lot of different things to me. Holding onto his memory prevented me from ever letting go of my pain and knowing myself and allowing for pure joy.” Marty’s eyes were filling up with something.

“I never felt entirely worthy of you, Marty. I waited and waited for something to take you from me, even attempting to cause it myself. If I felt so bad about myself, how could someone like you want me?” He reached for my face, his fingers brushing through the strands of my hair.

“I’m here to answer your question,” I said. “It’s important to you. It’s important to us.”

“You just did,” he said.

“No, I want to say it. I want to look you in the eyes and tell you.” I could feel my body trembling, but it wasn’t from fear. “The answer’s no, I don’t love him. Did you hear me? I don’t love him. I love you. That’s all of me. Not just a piece, not just a part, all the good and all the bad.” His eyes locked onto mine. I stared into the blue and had one thing left to say, “I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me because I need you, Marty, only you.”

He didn’t let me finish. He kissed my lips, and the promise that I had once let slip through my fingers was alive again with possibility. “You never lost me,” he whispered, taking me into his arms. “I’m right here, where I’ve always been.” We kissed again, and Marty grinned at me. “At least I can still bring you to your knees.” And I smiled and he told me I was everything, and he would give me everything, and for the first time I understood.

I had found in my husband the fairy tale prince I once dreamt about as a child. He didn’t ride in on a white horse, and he didn’t own a stretch white limousine, but he was gallant in his own simple ways, brave in the face of adversity, and loved even when love wasn’t always enough. For that, I am grateful.

“I was surprised when I got your phone call.”

“No more than I was to make it.”

“It’s been a long time. How are you doing?”

“Better,” I said.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Where do I begin?”

“Wherever you want.”

“I wish there was more time,” I said, looking at my watch, knowing we only had forty-five minutes. “I really made a mess of things—for a while.”

She didn’t say anything, just waited.

“I guess I should start with my dad.”

She moved her glasses from her nose to the top of her head like I’d once remembered, and it didn’t even bother me. Even though she’d aged, she still looked exactly the same. There was something peaceful about being around her.

“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me about your dad.”

First my eyes found a piece of furniture in the room and stayed there. Then they carefully made their way to her face, where they rested on her eyes, the ones that were now staring back at me.

“I miss him,” I told her. “I miss him a lot.”

This novel would not have been possible without the love and support of many wonderful people. These acknowledgements are in no special order, and if I have omitted anyone, I apologize in advance.

First, I would like to thank my earliest critic, my dear brother Rob Berger. He stole my diary in middle school and deemed my words worthy enough for comment.

Thank you to my grandmother, Lydia Wiesel. While in her nineties, she was able to finish the novel in one day and share her masterful critique. Lydia was a gifted writer, and I hope this finished product makes her proud.

To my first readers and staunchest supporters: Patti Weinstein, Debbie Bloomfield, Amy Berger, Jodi Hurwitz, Ricki Hollander, Marla Morningstar, Maria Marx, Randi Schwartz, Jackie Berger, Jessica Dornbusch Kavana, Dori Ornstein, Tirza Dalkoff, Pamela Fries, Wendy Kingsley, Lauren Warsing, Ariela Mars, Denise Fiske, Rachel Sapoznik, Jacqueline Sapoznik, Amy Siskind, Dori Solomon, Sandy Kapp, Lois Brandenburg, Valerie Berger, Barbara Amoils, Robin Gale, Lisa Levine, Marsha Staller Levine, Jennifer Kaire, and Mandy Zaron.

Tara Solomiany, for orchestrating the most memorable book club experience with Elise Scheck, Tammy Woldenberg, Tila Levi, Amy Gelb, Mimi Klimberg, Valerie Mitrani, Devorah Leah Andrusier, Tammy Attias, Cynthia Stein, and Natalie Wolf. Melissa Grosfeld, aka Dr. Gray, for her hours of psychologically stimulating conversation and fine-tuning. Stephanie Oshinsky for her introduction to Mitch and Jessica, among many other acts of kindness.  Mindy Blum for our walks and talks and the many times you have told me you like my book better than the one you’re currently reading.

Thank you to Jennifer Unter for your honest insights and utmost professionalism. Martine Bellen for working your editing magic and teaching me to be a better writer. Rosalind Wiseman, Elise Capron, Stephanie Norman, Brad Meltzer, Jim Grippando, Rick Yorn, Debra Borden, Jason Port, George Perez, Brooke Soffer, Ina Yalof, Jennifer Joel, Matt Cooper, Shari and Harvey Schwartz, Michael Subarsky, Scott and Cindy Orlinsky, Lauren Sorof, Charlotte Tomic, Mitch Kaplan, Jessica Jonap, Kirby Kim, and Elisabeth Weed for their guidance, willingness to open doors, and valuable feedback.