A Little Bit of Everything Lost (24 page)

The week was stretching out to be a busy one. Marnie had a routine OB appointment scheduled for Thursday, and she also finally scheduled an appointment to meet with a therapist – she realized she still had some issues to deal with, and Stuart had encouraged her to go talk to someone. Just because she was feeling emotionally better, and it seemed she and Stuart were making the efforts with one
another, she knew things weren’t going to be perfect. Stuart may have forgiven her for not immediately telling her about being pregnant, but Marnie still held onto some guilt and she needed to talk it through with an impartial party. She and Stuart also planned to go to dinner Saturday evening. They were both trying. It was obvious they wanted to make things work – that their marriage, the pregnancy and their family was their priority.

Still, it bo
thered Marnie that things weren’t perfect. She wished she had a husband who was home all of the time; she was tired of being married to a half-husband. It had become especially hard with two children and a pregnancy, but this wasn’t something she could say to Stuart, because it would just circle back to the fact that maybe this pregnancy wasn’t a good idea in the first place. Which was another reason she needed to speak to a therapist – to help her sort through all these conflicting thoughts.

Marnie placed her hand on her belly, feeling the tightness, knowing her baby was there, knowing this child was meant to be, it was in the plan for their family. Her days were long and exhausting, but she knew it would all be worth it. And at the very least, the exhaustion allowed her to sleep well at night, for now. She could only imagine how it would be when the pregna
ncy progressed and sleep wouldn’t come as easily.

Today, Marnie’s goal was to get into the attic and at least go through some of the stuff to figure out what she needed for the baby. Before she got too big to get up there. Not that she was that big now, but if this pregnancy was following suit like her last two, she would be busting out in the last trimester.

Marnie set the ladder up in the hallway, hooking the two sides securely, and tested the bottom rung to make sure it held her weight. It did. As she climbed the steps, she did so tentatively, and when she got to the fifth rung, she reached her arm up to tug at the attic’s handle. It didn’t budge.

“Damn.” Another yank, another slew of swears and finally, the attic door swung open, nearly hitting Marnie in the face. Dust flew from the attic and drizzled to the floor. Marnie coughed, imagining her baby swimming in asbestos.

Four more steps up the ladder and Marnie hoisted herself into the attic. She found herself surrounded by boxes and old toys, and everything that made up her history – all the stuff that no one but she cared about. Old yearbooks and photos, and papers she had written. Marnie never threw anything away – not an essay she had written, a letter she had received, or a photo she had shot. There were boxes stuffed to overflowing, and the attic was filled. There were also plenty of boxes containing items from when the boys were little. She looked around and shook her head in dismay; thank God all of this was stored away and not strewn all over the house. She had kept practically everything: baby items, puzzles, books and toys. She should have gotten rid of more than half of this crap years ago. What a waste to haul everything up there only to have to haul it all back down someday to give it away. At least she knew the baby stuff would be used.

As she worked her way over to the corner where all the baby gear was kept, she noticed the box. Her heart sped up. It was the box that she had stashed everything after that last Christmas with Joe, the last time she had seen him.

There hadn’t been that much to the box, not much to put away to constitute a relationship. A few things to prove he even existed. Marnie navigated her way through the rafters, some cobwebs and the pink insulation and settled herself onto a rickety wicker chair that she should have given away years ago. She picked up the white box with black block lettering. Crate & Barrel.

She opened the box and in doing so, the years rewound themselves back to then.

The box smelled of him. There were a couple sample vials of
Obsession
cologne settled right on top of everything. She picked up the Eastern University sweatshirt and smelled it, thinking of the night at the pier. It had been breezy and cool and she almost told him that she loved him that night. The gold linked watch from Christmas was in the box too. She lifted it, feeling its weight, realizing only now that it had been an expensive gift. A copy of one of the mix tapes she had made for him –
The Cure
– she listened to that one song so many times after he disappeared. She had saved some of the dried chrysanthemums too, now faded brown and pale yellow. Marnie didn’t pick them up because she knew they were brittle and would crumble at her touch. The pictures she had taken the day he brought the flowers were in there too. She pulled the photos out. They had been so young. She looked at her nineteen-year-old face smiling back at her, her arm around Joe’s neck. A young, giddy girl in love who knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. God, really, what did she even know back then? What did she really know about this boy she had been so infatuated with? She had loved him, whatever her definition of love had been at that age? She had never given so much of herself to anyone, or been so intimate with anyone before Joe. He had heightened her ideas of sensuality and brought out a new Marnie she never knew existed. For that, she’d always remember him.

She looked at him in the photo. He
had
been her first love. She knew that. But he wasn’t her only love, she knew that too. She smiled at the memory of that day, and of the days they had spent together, and placed the photos back into the box.

Next to the flowers, there was a napkin from The Bean. It was smeared with black ink and coffee stains. Marnie remembered their days spent there, drinking coffee while it rained, playing tic-tac-toe and talking about
an imaginary future she couldn’t even fathom now. Holding hands across the table, never wanting to let go. Never imagining holding someone else’s hand.

Marnie picked up the napkin. On the one side, it had been filled with tic-tac-toe games, the one game Marnie won – where Joe let her win – she remembered. All the rest of them were cats games, except for one game Joe won, fair and square.

On the other side of the napkin there were scrawled doodles and then something she had never seen before. There were Xs and Os all over the napkin, with smaller tic-tac-toe boards filling up the corners, some smiley faces and more doodles, but in one corner, she saw it. Looking closely, there was a small doodle in between all the other Xs and Os, and a scratch of the date – 12-27-88 – jotted carefully in Joe’s handwriting, and her breath caught:

I ♥ MAR.

It simultaneously broke her heart and brought her a little bit of peace and healing all at the same moment.

Chapter Fifty-Three
December 1988

“Okay, confession time.”

M
arnie and Joe went to the basement after her parents headed up to their room. It was four days after Christmas, and aside from sleeping in their own homes, and two eight-hour shifts for Marnie at The Bean, they hadn’t spent any time apart.

He had been spooning her on the basement couch as they watched a rerun of
Thirty Something,
Marnie imagining that someday she would be his Hope, and Joe would become her Michael from the show, and they would be the perfect television family.

Her heart lurched at his words, but she turned her body toward him so they were nose to nose, his hazel eyes staring into hers. He pushed a tangle of hair from her face.

“Confession about what?”

Joe drew in a breath and Marnie saw his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed hard. Her elbows were tucked into her sides, her hands folded across her chest, a sort of shield from what might be coming. Marnie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say because what if his confession was worse than what she had to tell him – that they could have become parents – what if that secret pushed him back away.

“Well, that party we went to, over the summer?”

“Yes?” Marnie waited, and tried not to blink, but was pretty sure she knew what he was going to tell her.

“That girl there. Trina… you remember?”

“Of course I remember her. She was horrible.”

“We used to date.”

This was not a shocker to Marnie, but she said, “I figured that much. The lemon comment.”

“Yeah, the lemons. But she and I were broken up when you and I were together.”

When Marnie didn’t reply, Joe kept talking, all the while, touching the back of her neck, massaging her gently. Somehow, this must have made it easier for Joe because he kept talking. Marnie was glad that he was telling her what he wanted to because he didn’t really need to. He didn’t owe her this explanation. But maybe he did?

“We were together for a while. Went to high school together, and tried to work on the relationship through freshman year.”

Well before Marnie met Joe.

“I hadn’t seen her all summer until that party. I tried to ignore her. That’s why I got so stoned, so messed up that night. That’s the truth. I wasn’t with her when I was with you. I wanted you to know this. You deserve to know this.”

“I’m glad you’re telling me, but if you weren’t with her when you were with me, why does it matter? I knew you two were together at some point – by what she said at the party – and then what you told me after.”

“Well, she doesn’t even go to Eastern. We did the long distance thing freshman year, and it wasn’t working. When I got home for summer, I didn’t want anything… I was ready to break up with her. That’s when I met you.”

“You didn’t see her when we were together?”

“No! I told you that. I promise you that.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem then?” Marnie could feel the soles of her feet grow cold, and she inched them in between Joe’s denim-clad calves.

“Her father committed suicide right when we got back to school.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“She was a wreck. Called me at school, crying. Our families have always been close. It was a huge blow to my family even. Her mom and my mom, well, they’re really good friends… still.”

Marnie waited.

“I came home for the funeral, and Trina, she was a mess. Almost didn’t go back to school, cried hysterically that whole weekend. I guess, I don’t know. We just kind of… her dad was my godfather.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I can kind of understand.”

“Do you? Really Marnie? Do you understand? Because that’s why I never called you at school last semester. I know I should have. I really wanted to, but I fucked it up. Trina was… I mean she lost her dad, and we just kind of fell back into things. Out of comfort. I didn’t really know what I was doing. Well, I did, but I didn’t want to be with her. Not really.”

“Do you love her?”

Marnie knew as soon as she asked, she shouldn’t have. She didn’t have the right to ask that, or maybe she did. Still, she wanted to know. Had to know what he felt for Trina. What she meant to him now.

“It’s difficult. We were… I was her first. You know how it is with your first?”

Marnie nodded. Even though she didn’t. Her first had been nothing special.

Only Joe had been special.

“So what now? What else?” she asked, realizing he hadn’t answered her question.
Did he love her?

“Well, we were toge
ther for a little while, I didn’t think it was anything serious, but she was just a mess. I think I felt sad for her, and sad for me too, and guilty too though, like I felt like she needed me, because her dad died. I don’t even know if she’s going back to school next semester. She missed so much school last semester, I think she screwed up a lot of her classes.”

I screwed up a lot of classes,
Marnie thought, and then she said, “You still talk to her?”

“Marnie, our parents are… I’ve known her my whole life. We did family vacations together when we were kids, we spend holidays together. It’s just how it is. I can’t ever change the facts of our history.

“This is why I’m telling you all of this. I want to be honest. Trina’s always going to be there. She’s always going to be a part of my life. She has to be, because of our families. And now that her dad is gone, I mean, she’s lost. I think she’s finally got it figured out that she and I are not going to be together. Because I don’t want that.”

“What do you want?” Marnie asked.

“You. Just you. I promise you that. Only you.”

Chapter Fifty-Four
The Pregnancy – June 2004

After Marnie discovered the note, she sat in the attic and remembered. She remembered everything. She thought about their time together, about how young love can seem like the whole world. She remembered how nothing else had mattered, how only Joe seemed important at the time. It was crazy to think about how she had behaved – how she imagined she wouldn’t have survived without the love of a guy she hardly knew. It all seemed so desperate in the moment.