Part II: Carly
Dear Carly,
Step nine. Making amends. In group, they all say it's the most difficult of the twelve but ultimately, the most rewarding. So far, the only part I can vouch for is the difficult part. And, I don't even have to look in your face. Something that, since I'm working on being honest now, I thank God for every day. Because your eyes, Carly, they haunt me. Your eyes, your beautiful, killing, punishing liquid brown eyes.
Bet I know what you're saying now, if you haven't already torn this into a thousand pieces: typical AJ, whining about how tough his life is. Maybe you'd even be right. It's always been easy for me to play the weak one, to be needy and vulnerable and helpless. That's the role I've always played, my ticket through life. Pretty pathetic, right? That was your word for me; you always did see me true, Carly. In this screwed-up way. Maybe that's why I couldn't stay away from you, even when I knew, I knew that you had the power to destroy me. Or, I had the power to destroy me, through you.
Didn't matter though; nothing mattered except the fact that you saw me. Even when I was just a pit-stop on the way to my brother, you still saw me, Carly. I still believe that, even now. Even after everything. You said something to me once, right before everything went straight to hell. It had been a typical Carly and AJ deathmatch; I accused you of pining after my brother. And, you looked at me, and you said, 'you know what? I think I'm just gonna let our marriage be enough.' I still wonder, sometimes, what if you had? What if I had? Did you see me true enough for that, or did you see me too true? I still dream you saying that to me, sometimes.
Whew. This was supposed to be an apology, right? But, the words won't come. I can't make myself write them. It's not that I don't feel it; it's just that words don't seem like enough. They won't fix anything; they won't -- they won't bring your son back to life. Or maybe that's just another one of my endless excuses.
Here goes nothing: I'm sorry, Carly. I'm sorry that he died. I'm sorry that I couldn't stop drinking soon enough to make it so that night never happened. I'm sorry that I wasn't the man you wanted me to be. I'm sorry that you never let me try and be that man. I'm sorry that those two people, those two kids trying to find their way that we were once, a million lifetimes ago, ended up hurting each other so badly when all we ever wanted was to be each other's shelter from the wreckage of our lives. I'm not sorry I knew you, Carly; being sorry for that would be being sorry we made our son. And, despite everything, I'll never be sorry for that. Michael's the one thing that's truly good about the hell we made of us.
I hope you find peace, Carly. I hope this helps give you some. I've never meant anything more in my life than I mean that. -- AJ
Carly blinked as the light switched on, and she looked up, wincing, at the other side of the bed, the crumpled, creased letter in her hand slipping out of her grasp to lay between them on the bedspread. She didn't even attempt a smile; she just met her husband's eyes, knowing he knew what dark thoughts were haunting her today.
He sighed, reaching up to lace his hand through Carly's hair, running his thumb across her cheek. "Baby," he sat up, studying her, tenderness in his every gesture, his every intonation, "did you sleep at all?" When she shook her head, mutely, he sighed again. "Caroline," he said, in the throaty whisper she loved most, "you don't have to do this."
"Yeah, I do." She pulled away from him, picking up AJ's letter and folding it, again and again until it was a small square, fragile with many rereadings. Carly put it in the drawer of her bedside table, and then turned back to her husband, sliding down until her face was level with his. "Chris, you know why. Don't make me justify this again; I just -- I need to see him. I need to do this."
Chris Ramsey shook his head, sliding his head closer to his wife's, tracing the lines of her face with his fingertips. "I'll never make you do anything you don't want to do, Carly; you know that. Part of the deal, baby." He leaned forward, tilting his head enough to brush her lips with his. Drawing back against the pillows of their bed, he pulled her with him, cradling her head against his bare chest. "I just wish you'd let me go with you. I can get Eve to cover for me at work; she owes--"
Chris broke off as he felt Carly's head shaking 'no' against him.
"This has gotta be my own thing, Chris," Carly twined her hand through his, so that their wedding bands were side by side, and drew his hand up across her body so that it was resting on her stomach. "AJ -- I have to look at him, look him in the eye, and--" Carly paused. "I don't know. All I know is I've gotta do this. And, I've got to do it alone. Can you please just try and get that?"
Chris was silent a long time; their entire marriage, his and Carly's, was built on one thing -- the one thing they'd both never known, until each other: trust. It was a crazy thing, as inexplicable as snow in June; Chris Ramsey and Carly Benson, arguably the two most mixed-up, manipulative, treacherous people in this whole damn town had managed not only to find themselves in each other, but to make of what they found a marriage. A marriage that was the strongest thing either of them had ever known. "I can try," he said, finally, pressing his lips to the top of her head, his fingers gently caressing her stomach that was only barely beginning to curve lightly. "Just swear to me that you'll be careful."
Carly turned in his arms, straddling her husband's nearly nude body, propping herself up on his chest with her elbows, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her face as she bent down to bite gently at his earlobe. "And when, Doctor Ramsey," she murmured, intentionally changing the mood, "have I ever not been careful?" Carly laughed, deep in her throat, at the expression on his face, and bent down once again, this time letting her teeth graze against his nipple. "Okay," she murmured, as he sucked in a sharp breath, "so you don't have to answer that one."
Chris slid his palms up his wife's bare arms, gripping her biceps tightly, letting out a playful growl as in one smooth movement, he flipped her onto her back, trapping her wrists above her head as he lay poised above her. Then he did an unexpected thing; rather than descending on her as she expected him to do, Chris instead waited, his gaze never wavering from hers. Carly stilled under his gaze; Chris slowly loosed her hands, bringing one of his to cradle her silky-smooth cheek. "I love you, my wife," he whispered, his voice little more than warm breath against her cheek.
Carly blinked back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes in the note in his voice, vulnerability and love and desire all wrapped up in something that was so much more than any of those things. She reached up, drawing him down to her. "I know," Carly whispered back into his mouth. "I'll be careful, Chris; I promise. I swear."
And she fully intended to keep that promise, Carly thought, standing in the lobby of the building that had been AJ's home for these past two years. There was no reason for her not to; whatever dangers this trip held for her, they weren't physical ones. No, the dangers of coming face to face with her ex-husband were far more insidious than the mere physical, far more ultimately destructive. Not that she'd told Chris that.
The totally unforeseen part of this was how -- easy seeing AJ was, so far. She had been braced to do everything from rail at him to run out of the room; instead, she had found herself bantering lightly with him. Until he had asked that question, the one Chris had been asking her for days, the one she'd been asking herself for longer than that. 'What do you want, Carly?' And, she'd answered him, the word slipping totally unexpectedly out of her mouth. 'Redemption.' Only as she said it did she know it was true; that was why she had come to this man who looked at her every day in her small son's smile. Redemption. For her or for him, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that it was true.
After that, it had been a very short space of time before they found themselves striding towards at her car. AJ had already filled out the bulk of his paperwork; all that he'd needed to do was sign a single paper once and walk out the doors. It seemed kind of anti-climactic; Carly had figured there would be -- more, somehow. But, AJ had taken it all in stride. He'd signed his name, touched the doorframe with two fingertips, and walked out the door into the sunlight. She'd followed behind, suddenly wordless.
Until they'd gotten to the parking lot, and AJ had turned to her with a lifted eyebrow, as if to say 'you sure about this?'. She wasn't, not at all, but she wasn't about to let him see that either. Carly smirked, pulling out her keys and hitting the automatic lock. She watched AJ's face as she walked over to her black Volvo, and lifted an eyebrow. "What?" Carly looked at him, across the hood. "You don't like my car?"
"No, it's fine; it's just not what I pictured." He shook his head, not really letting himself reflect on how insane having a simple conversation with Carly about her car really was. "Guess you're right; guess a lot has changed in two--" AJ stopped suddenly, arrested by the sight of a car seat in the back, several brightly colored toys discarded about it. Carly's mouth tightened as she followed the direction of his eyes, and her keys dug into the fleshy part of her palm. His breath became suddenly ragged. "How is he?" he asked, the words torn out of somewhere deep in his soul. "Is he-- God, I don't even know what to ask. I don't even know what he looks like."
Carly lifted her head, surprised. "Don't you? I mean, I figured Emily would send you pictures. She has Michael every Saturday." She knew she shouldn't; she knew there was no reason for it. But, when AJ talked about Michael, she still felt this -- guilt.
AJ's eyes closed, painfully, and he shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Em doesn't -- I don't hear from her." He opened his eyes slowly, meeting Carly's. "I'm glad she spends time with Michael, though. Thank you."
Carly shrugged, discomfited. "Yeah, well, lesser of the evils, you know? Emily -- I'm never gonna love her or anything, but we've made our peace, she and I. And, Michael loves his Auntie Emma." Carly hesitated a long moment, then reached in her pocketbook, drawing out a wallet-sized picture. She slid it across the roof of her car, careful not to make actual physical contact. "This was at Michael's graduation from pre-school, last month; it's the most recent one I have with me."
AJ picked up the small photograph with trembling fingers, devouring it hungrily with his eyes. Carly looked away from the intensity suddenly evident in every inch of his body. "He's so beautiful," AJ whispered, not looking at her. "Graduation from preschool? Isn't he too young for that?"
Carly shook her head. "A little. But, he's really advanced for his age; he's gonna start kindergarten this fall. He'll be a little younger than the other kids, but his teachers and Chris and I all think he's ready. Look, AJ, I don't think--"
AJ looked up. "Chris?"
Carly paused. The silence stretched out between them. "My husband and Michael's step-father," Carly said finally, not sure what perversity made her add that last part. "Who's waiting for me at home. If we're gonna do this, AJ, it's time."
AJ returned her gaze, the photograph of his son clenched tightly in his fingers. After a long moment, he reached down, opening the passenger-side door, slinging his bag in the back seat. "Let's go."
