From the Diary of Elizabeth Jackson - Date __________________
_____________________
There's a line that's running through my head tonight. Maybe it would be easier for you if I just disappeared. It's from one of the few romantic comedies I like, The American President, and the president's girlfriend is saying it to well, the president. In the midst of her being called his mistress, his whore, and other unsavory terms, she's offering to disappear. The president replies, If you disappeared, I'd find you.
I feel that way tonight. I spent the night sitting on the porch, talking to Jen, having my heart ripped out. She and Jethro are fighting because of me. God, I want him to just come at me, I can take him. Instead, rightly, his frustration is aimed at Jenny. There are times I think it would be easier, be better even, if she just let me go. I'll love her til the end of time and I'll smile through my tears. I want her happy and clearly, fighting about me with her husband is not something that makes her happy. But I can't walk away. Call me selfish. Call me unfair. Call me a homewrecker. I don't care. I can't walk away. Not when she looks at me the way she does and I get these butterflies that remind me that yes, I am still capable of being loved. Not loving, but being loved. There's a difference. So she has to walk away. That isn't fair of me, but she also knows she can at any time. I'll run to the edge of the road and cry as she leaves, but I'll let her go if she needs it. So until she does, I'm giving her the respect of letting her make her own choices. We're grown women. I've made mine. She's made hers. And we have the perogative of changing our minds.
But I'm still angry. I'm angry because she doesn't need this kind of drama right now. She's pregnant and working a job that kills even the healthiest and not-pregnant of people. If anyone can do it, it's Jenny, but she doesn't need the drama. I get why he is so upset. I do even have some sympathy ... I get it. He didn't know. Honestly, I don't think Jenny and I planned for it to continue beyond the one night, but to wake up and see her there in the kitchen, to feel her hold my hand the way she did, I knew we'd crossed a line we couldn't step back over. It falls on her that she didn't tell him, but she made her choices. And so did he, the bastard. So did he. He made the choice to stick it out, but that doesn't mean he gets to pick fights with her about it. He made the choice. He has to work through it like a mature adult. At least I've yelled and screamed into my pages here - which if anyone reads these ...
I wish I knew how to make it easier. But my role is rather defined right now. Get things ready for when they get here and make sure I stay out of Jethro's way when they are. Believe me, I'm happy to. It's only my house and my property and if he wants to sleep next to his wife at night, he'd better find a way to get over at least some of it.
Yes, this is me, if I'm not mad at Adam, I'm mad at Jethro. I'm scouting perfect places to host the wedding of my best friend and lover to the man she's loved for over a decade. Maybe I want a thank you, who knows. Maybe I'm just venting. All I know is he'd better not fuck things up. There's two kids, a dog and a cat, and the heart of the woman I'd give up everything to spend my life with at stake. You get to have issues. You don't get to make your wife's life miserable when you made the damned choice to stay. And see, that's where my sympathy ends. I can sit here and read back through my own issues, my own tears, and respect that I had to work things out. But my issues were primarily with myself, not with Jenny. Things were left in a difficult way, and she jumped right back into a life that makes her glow. I felt abandoned, not just by her but by my sanity. One look from her changed that and I trust her enough to know that when she needs to bring it up, she will. When she needs to talk, we will. And if, God Forbid, things have to change, we'll talk about it. I trust that. I always have. And it was nice to be reminded.
I sense a cycling of topics approaching, so I am going to put down my pen and find my wine glass. But yes, sometimes I think it would be easier for her if I disappeared. But something tells me that if I did ... she'd find me.
There's a line that's running through my head tonight. Maybe it would be easier for you if I just disappeared. It's from one of the few romantic comedies I like, The American President, and the president's girlfriend is saying it to well, the president. In the midst of her being called his mistress, his whore, and other unsavory terms, she's offering to disappear. The president replies, If you disappeared, I'd find you.
I feel that way tonight. I spent the night sitting on the porch, talking to Jen, having my heart ripped out. She and Jethro are fighting because of me. God, I want him to just come at me, I can take him. Instead, rightly, his frustration is aimed at Jenny. There are times I think it would be easier, be better even, if she just let me go. I'll love her til the end of time and I'll smile through my tears. I want her happy and clearly, fighting about me with her husband is not something that makes her happy. But I can't walk away. Call me selfish. Call me unfair. Call me a homewrecker. I don't care. I can't walk away. Not when she looks at me the way she does and I get these butterflies that remind me that yes, I am still capable of being loved. Not loving, but being loved. There's a difference. So she has to walk away. That isn't fair of me, but she also knows she can at any time. I'll run to the edge of the road and cry as she leaves, but I'll let her go if she needs it. So until she does, I'm giving her the respect of letting her make her own choices. We're grown women. I've made mine. She's made hers. And we have the perogative of changing our minds.
But I'm still angry. I'm angry because she doesn't need this kind of drama right now. She's pregnant and working a job that kills even the healthiest and not-pregnant of people. If anyone can do it, it's Jenny, but she doesn't need the drama. I get why he is so upset. I do even have some sympathy ... I get it. He didn't know. Honestly, I don't think Jenny and I planned for it to continue beyond the one night, but to wake up and see her there in the kitchen, to feel her hold my hand the way she did, I knew we'd crossed a line we couldn't step back over. It falls on her that she didn't tell him, but she made her choices. And so did he, the bastard. So did he. He made the choice to stick it out, but that doesn't mean he gets to pick fights with her about it. He made the choice. He has to work through it like a mature adult. At least I've yelled and screamed into my pages here - which if anyone reads these ...
I wish I knew how to make it easier. But my role is rather defined right now. Get things ready for when they get here and make sure I stay out of Jethro's way when they are. Believe me, I'm happy to. It's only my house and my property and if he wants to sleep next to his wife at night, he'd better find a way to get over at least some of it.
Yes, this is me, if I'm not mad at Adam, I'm mad at Jethro. I'm scouting perfect places to host the wedding of my best friend and lover to the man she's loved for over a decade. Maybe I want a thank you, who knows. Maybe I'm just venting. All I know is he'd better not fuck things up. There's two kids, a dog and a cat, and the heart of the woman I'd give up everything to spend my life with at stake. You get to have issues. You don't get to make your wife's life miserable when you made the damned choice to stay. And see, that's where my sympathy ends. I can sit here and read back through my own issues, my own tears, and respect that I had to work things out. But my issues were primarily with myself, not with Jenny. Things were left in a difficult way, and she jumped right back into a life that makes her glow. I felt abandoned, not just by her but by my sanity. One look from her changed that and I trust her enough to know that when she needs to bring it up, she will. When she needs to talk, we will. And if, God Forbid, things have to change, we'll talk about it. I trust that. I always have. And it was nice to be reminded.
I sense a cycling of topics approaching, so I am going to put down my pen and find my wine glass. But yes, sometimes I think it would be easier for her if I disappeared. But something tells me that if I did ... she'd find me.