Monday, September 1, 2003
Neither Jack nor Rose spoke of the proposal in the week that followed—not to each other, and not to anyone else. Rose’s thoughts bounced back and forth on the subject—she loved him, but she was afraid of making a mistake as she had with Cal. Although she knew that Jack and Cal had little in common, the fear was still there.
Late on Labor Day afternoon, more than a week after the proposal, Rose followed Jack out front after dinner to speak privately to him. She didn’t want Helga and Tommy to know about it until they had made a decision one way or another.
Jack was turning off the water that kept the flower bed green when Rose came up to him.
"Jack," she started.
"Hmm?"
"About what you asked me last week..."
"Yes?"
"I think we need to talk before we can make any decisions either way."
He pulled the hose from the flower bed and coiled it up beside the faucet. "You’re right. We do."
"Why don’t we go for a walk?"
Jack looked inside briefly to tell Tommy and Helga that they were going off for a while, then walked beside Rose to the end of the driveway. "Which way do you want to go?"
"How about toward the hills?"
He nodded, starting across the street. Rose followed him, pausing as two of the little kids at the house across the street yelled to them through the fence.
After talking to them for a moment, they continued on, around the block and up the dirt road toward the open hills. They were silent, each thinking about what needed to be said.
Jack and Rose made their way to the top of a small hill and sat down together on a rock, reaching to hold each other’s hands. The days were shorter now, but there was still some daylight left, and a cool breeze blew around them, cutting the heat of the late summer weather and rustling the grass and brush atop the hill.
"Jack," Rose began, a little hesitantly. "I...there’s something I think I should try to explain about...about how I feel about getting married, and why I feel that way."
"Okay."
"I...my first engagement was a disaster. I didn’t want to marry Cal in the first place, but Mom coerced me into it, threatening to put me out on the streets if I didn’t agree to the marriage. Now I know that there were things I could have done to take care of myself, things worse than being homeless, but...I didn’t know that then. I had just graduated from high school that day, and the sudden freedom, if you can call it that, was...unnerving."
"Why was your mother so set on your marrying Cal?"
"She told me that it was because she wanted the best for me, but later, when I was getting ready to move out of her house and into the one we live in, I remembered that right about the time I had gotten engaged, Mom had been awarded several new designing contracts—courtesy of Titan Construction." Rose looked up at him. "She sold me, Jack, to further a career that she isn’t really happy in."
"She sold you?!" Jack exclaimed. "Are you sure?"
"I’m sure." Rose’s voice was flat. "She was so blinded by the idea of money and status that she couldn’t see what she was doing to me."
Jack shook his head. "Why didn’t you say something when you found out? As far as I know, selling people is illegal."
"I’m an adult, Jack—I didn’t have to go along with her plans. But I did. If she had done the same thing when I was a child, I would have a case against her. But as an adult, it was my own lack of judgment that put me in the position I was in."
"She acted as though she were your…your madam!"
"Be that as it may, she’s still my mother, Jack. And I won’t say that I hated Cal—I didn’t, at least not then—but I didn’t love him. Mom told me that romantic love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be—she and Dad didn’t have a happy marriage, except for maybe the first year or two. They fought constantly when I was growing up, and Dad looked for...affection...elsewhere. They didn’t want to divorce, because they were worried about the effect it would have had on me. I think it would have been better if they had split up, but they didn’t. Dad died when I was sixteen, and...I don’t think Mom was all that sorry to see him go. They’d been fighting for so long..."
"You still miss him, don’t you?"
Rose nodded. "Yes. He was more understanding than Mom, though he was seldom around. He avoided her as much as possible. I looked at the families of my friends and wondered why my family couldn’t be more like theirs. I’ve since learned, of course, that nothing’s perfect, but I think they would have been happier apart." She paused. "At any rate, Mom wanted me in a solid, stable marriage. I’m not sure why. This is the twenty-first century, after all, and I don’t need a husband for security, but I think she was afraid that I would find a man like Dad. Instead, she almost married me off to a man far worse than Dad could ever have been. Dad, at least, never...beat Mom, or tried to control her. They just didn’t get along."
"And you’re afraid that you might make the same mistake that you made before, the same mistake that your parents made."
She nodded. "That’s part of it. Some of what happened when you were sick...it was pretty terrible. I love you, but...I don’t know where we stand. We both said and did some awful things, and even though it never got as ugly and vicious as it did with Cal...it still worries me."
"It came close, though. Rose...I’m sorry about what happened when I was sick. That day that I hit you—I didn’t have a good reason to do so, and I shouldn’t have done it."
"No, you shouldn’t have...but I don’t blame you. You weren’t in control of yourself. I think that day was kind of a turning point—if you hadn’t hit me, the other things wouldn’t have happened, and you would never have sought help, or been treated for the head injury. Most likely, you would be dead now." She grimaced. "I didn’t behave so well myself."
He shook his head. "You were within your rights to retaliate."
"Dumping the pan of water over your head, yes. Chasing you with the knife, no."
"After all you’d been through, it wasn’t right that you should have had to go through that."
"And that was part of why you tried to kill yourself the following week, wasn’t it? I recognized the knife you used."
He nodded, not looking at her. "It was. I didn’t...want to cause you anymore pain."
Rose leaned against him. "You would have caused me much more pain if you had succeeded. But I don’t think that, deep inside, dying was really what you wanted to do. Many times, when a person attempts suicide, it’s a cry for help. It was for you...and for me."
"I hadn’t even been thinking that someone might be hurt by my...death. I only thought of the trouble I had caused for so many people, and was causing even then. I felt that you would be better off without me."
Rose hugged him. "We wouldn’t have been. Suicide affects more than just the person who kills themselves. The day that you attempted it, a woman called the mental health clinic, crying so hard I could barely understand her. Her son had committed suicide the week before, and she was so upset she didn’t know what to do. She said that she should have known what was happening, because he’d suddenly seemed much happier and had been giving his favorite possessions away. After I’d transferred her call, I realized that she could have been describing you. I rushed home—"
"—and got there just in time to save my life. Rose, I promise you, I will never try to take my own life again."
"Nor will I," Rose told him, leaning closer against him as he put his arms around her. "Life is too precious to give up so easily." She looked down. "For the time that you hit me...I think I’ve already paid you back in spades."
"When?"
"That day, after I brought you home from the emergency room, I was so angry that I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing. I knew that grabbing your cut wrist would hurt you—but I didn’t think about it. And I knew that I shouldn’t slap you—but I was so upset that I didn’t think. I felt bad when I slapped you and saw the red mark on your face, but I was so angry with you..."
After a moment, Jack spoke again. "Rose, I don’t blame you. I would have been angry, too, if the situation was reversed. Things were different when we first met—I didn’t know you; I only knew that I had to stop you from jumping. But you knew me, and cared...I think it’s time we both forgave ourselves and each other. I can promise you two things right here—I will never try to kill myself again, and I will never hit you again. You have my word on that."
Rose looked up at him. "I believe you, Jack. I trust you."
It was growing dark. Jack got to his feet, helping Rose up. She leaned against him as they walked down the hill, hand in hand.
"Let’s go home."