The Battered Heiress Blues

9





My choice had become a poison, killing me slowly from the inside out. I talked a big game with Henry, but whom was I kidding? I didn’t want to live without him, but I had my pride too. He broke his promise. If I didn’t take a stand now, I would be the fool who realized, after twenty years, that our life was built on broken pledges and small little deceptions that just seemed harmless at the time.

As much as I didn’t like the things he said to me, there was some truth in his assessments. He was always the person I turned to when times got tough. This wasn’t out of some necessity on my part. I was a strong and capable woman. I could solve my own problems; but sharing them with someone I loved made the difficulties seem more bearable. Falling into his arms and having the ability to let my guard down, and just relax through the stress, made finding a way out of the darkness easier.

I’d never given much thought to being destroyed by the one person I loved most in the world. Then again, I never let anyone, besides Henry, close enough to hurt me. Since my mom’s death, I had become a master at internalizing every sorrow, every bitter disappointment, and every lonely moment. They were my burdens. I categorized them by affliction and moved on. The problem with hiding my emotions was that, eventually, I lost myself altogether. I’d forgotten that the sorrows and disappointments made me strong- that my mistakes and failures provided an opportunity for me to learn. When I chose not to feel my way through life, I had nothing to give others. That fact had become painfully evident with his departure.

Henry was the first man to ever cast light into those dark areas. His first sweet smile stopped me in my tracks. After dropping my books outside of the library, he came to my aide. His hand fell on top of mine as we both reached for the fallen books. He didn’t apologize for our touching. Instead, his hand lingered. It made me feel uncomfortable- like unchartered territory. Then, he spoke. Here’s your book never sounded so sexy in his British accent. He effortlessly grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet. After insisting that he walk me back to my car, I was informed that I was required to take him to dinner as a thank you- repayment for services rendered. Henry was disastrously charming. I never stood a chance.

We sat in that restaurant for hours, listening and talking with one another, until the wine made me brave enough to kiss him. It was the most delicious and sensual kiss I had ever experienced; slow and intense. That one kiss ruined me for every other man I would ever meet. He was my Tru North- an internal compass- my way out of the fear that had handicapped me since the day I let my mom go. The kiss released a confidence in me that made me shine. I was audacious again. I was his Jewel.

Our life together was exciting. He was always full of surprises. When friends were complaining about their boyfriends being disinterested, I couldn’t empathize. Tru was the boyfriend that would scout out a place in the park to hide champagne and strawberries ahead of our date. We didn’t lie around letting life pass us by: we explored the city; we traveled to Savannah; and we spent breaks in London with his mom. He wasn’t afraid to let me in. I had an all access pass to his life and I was slowly learning to let my guard down.

Our physical relationship came on quickly; partly because we were so taken with one another. I was worried that we were rushing intimacy, before a strong foundation could be built, but we were so easy in the other’s company. Our undeniable chemistry was backed up by a hefty dose of respect and trust. We weren’t the couple making love in the dark- the more lights the better. It was important to both of us to connect not just through touch, but with our eyes. I wanted to see his mouth when he spoke the words that melted my heart. We conveyed an acceptance of the other person’s body just as it was, regardless of our own personal warped sight.

We spent long afternoons, naked, wrapped in sheets, discussing our future. We talked about children and splitting our time between New York and Savannah. I would do pro-bono work and he would start his own law firm. We passed the Georgia bar and started to look for suitable office space in Savannah. Our dreams were becoming a reality. But dreams change.

I’m not sure at what point money became an equal object of his desire, but we suffered due to his relentless pursuit for power. To this day, I’m certain that my father enticed him, like the devil, offering water to a man burning in hell. He probably made Henry feel that he wouldn’t be worthy of me until he had made something of himself. I’ve never understood why Henry couldn’t see himself through my eyes.

Now, sitting on the upper veranda, having watched his car drive away- my heart was heavy. My eyes were full of tears. I could lie to Henry, but not to myself. I knew in losing him, I lost the best part of me. He brought that out. Sure, I could wake up and move through each day unscathed, but moving forward meant learning who I was without him. I knew that I would have to become my biggest fan again- to fall in love with my own singular qualities.

I had the night alone to dwell on his departure. Kate returned in the morning. She wanted to know what happened, word for word, but I felt it best to honor Henry by not assigning blame. She assured me that our split was temporary and that cooler heads would prevail, but I had my doubts. She didn’t hear the things that we said to one another. Words tend to take on a life of their own. I couldn’t forgive him for implying I facilitated Connor’s death and I’m certain my finger pointing made him less apt to apologize. We were at an impasse.

I urged Kate to stay out of our fight and she reluctantly agreed. I didn’t want to lose a lover and a best friend in one week. As much as she loved me, Henry was her brother- her blood. The less I shared with her the better.