Page 45 of Don’t Open Your Eyes

Scarlett: Wow. That’s awesome

Ben: His meetings are in Westport but I thought maybe we could stay near your house

We can meet before we get the parents involved

Scarlett: Good idea

Ben: What’s your address?

Scarlett hesitated only a moment before typing it in.

Ben: Awesome. I’ll tell him to find a hotel nearby. We can talk about everything and then I’ll come meet your mom. Just don’t say anything to her until after we meet.

Scarlett: K. Can’t wait!

Everything would be out in the open after Ben came to Connecticut. Together they would confront her parents, and then they’d have to tell her everything. She’d have the courage to do it with Ben by her side. She couldn’t wait.

She was dying to tell Olivia but decided against it. She was hiding a lot from her sister, but maybe it was for the best. Scarlett hadn’t found exactly what she was looking for when she’d searched her mother’s closet, but she had found something. A letter in her mom’s handwriting. It sort of explained things. There were times when she heard her mother crying in her room. She never knew why. She’d taken a picture of the letter with her phone, and she looked at it now, trying to discern its exact meaning.

My darling,

You’ll never read this letter. Fate has seen to that. But the love that I feel for you transcends all time and space. Nothing has the power to diminish it. How I wish that I could hold you. That I could give you all the love that fills my heart so full it feels as though it will burst. All I can promise you is that I won’t forget you. Though on the outside I may look as though I’ve moved on and begun a new life, inside I will always be missing a part of myself. I can only hope that one day, against all odds, we may be reunited.

Scarlett wanted to know who her mother had written to. It was such a sad letter. Why had her mother let go of what sounded like the love of her life? She’d asked her mom in a roundabout way, but her mom had pretended that there hadn’t been anyone special. This letter was proof otherwise. And it made sense now, why her mother cried by herself. It made Scarlett sad too. Did this mean that her mother was unhappy? Was she pretending when they were all together sailing, or on family vacations? Did she wish that she were somewhere else, with someone else? And did her father know about it? She caught him sometimes staring at her mom with a faraway look, like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. Did he worry that she was unhappy too? A terrifying thought came to her. Her mother wrote that she hoped they would be reunited. What if her mother decided she had to be with this person in the letter? What if she left?

The Wife

I don’t even know how long it’s been since we’ve had sex. Not good for a couple in their early forties. I need to do something about it. Even when we were intimate, there were never fireworks. But when you’ve been together for so long, maybe that’s too much to expect. We’ve had our ups and downs like any couple; perhaps a few more downs than most, but we’ve weathered the storms together—most of the time. So maybe I have turned a blind eye to the cracks in our marriage, but hasn’t everyone? The problem is that I’m beginning to feel like a fraud. I spend my days helping women in bad marriages to start a new life, so why am I so reluctant to examine my own? Our son isn’t a baby anymore. He’ll be off to college in a few years. High school graduations are often followed by divorcing spouses. Marriages anchored by children are common; our law firm sees a huge uptick in clients every June.

The harsh truth, though, is that many of the women I represent regret choosing to leave. I’m not talking about the ones in abusive situations, but rather the ones who’ve grown bored and complacent. They’re looking to spice up their lives with romance. We all want romance, but the truth is, it rarely lasts. Every relationship eventually cools down. And what my clients often discover is that what they had is far better than what is out there. This is what gives me pause. Is a sexless marriage really the end of the world? We have companionship and respect for each other, and it’s not as though we don’t love each other. We do. Men have needs. I’m not excusing his behavior. But maybe if I try harder, we can fix this. I have to reignite the flame between us. Because letting him go is not an option.

Annabelle

I’m at the hospital, standing in front of a set of double doors that say “ICU” and I can’t catch my breath. A gurney has whizzed past me and through the doors. On the gurney—Scarlett, bloodied and bruised. James comes running up to me, his face wet with tears.

“They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone. Is she alive?”

I start to answer, then James’s parents, Charlotte and Art, come over. She’s wagging her finger at me.

“It’s all your fault, all your fault.”

I try to get away from them, to go through the doors, but they won’t open.

“Leave me alone!” I yell, but they surround me, all of them chanting the same thing. “It’s all your fault. All your fault.”

I push James aside and run in the other direction. But I stop, shocked. My mother is standing at the other end of the hallway, staring at me. I run toward her.

“Mom!” I yell. My heart lifts at seeing her. She looks like herself before she got sick. I can see the intelligence in her eyes.

“Oh, Annabelle. What have you done?”

I don’t understand what she means. I grab her into a hug, but she pushes me away.

“It’s all your fault. Scarlett may die, and it’s all your fault.”

“No!” I yell. Loud music is playing, and I cover my ears. I want to disappear. Everyone is so angry at me. The music gets louder and louder, its tempo fast and cheerful.

“Mr. Blue Sky” was playing. Her phone. James must have changed the alarm. Was that his idea of a relaxing way to wake up? Annabelle jumped out of bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, silencing the alarm. She went to her settings and changed her password. What the hell was he doing, playing around with her phone anyway?