A letter
Fourth Wall rules apply.
The letter shows up on Jun's desk, carefully taped shut. It has Derek's writing on it, and smells like sand and sunlight. There is nothing but her name on it.
This is going to suck. I'm sorry, I don't have much objectivity right now, and no poetry. It's okay if what I say pisses you off. I don't know if it will...but if it does...it's unintentional. I'm sorry.
Talk to you. That's what they said. Right before I was reminded that I shouldn't be talking about it to anyone but you.
It's great advice...if talking to you would work. Problem is, in order to have a conversation, both people have to participate. When it comes to it, you don't. You used to, but you don't any more. I don't know what happened. Was it something I did...or didn't do...or...?
I don't know. I lost my friend somewhere though--the one that talked to me and let me know what was going on in her head, at least from time to time. I'll admit to being human and wondering if somehow I'm no longer worthy of knowing what goes on with you, or if somehow along the way, I've hurt you enough that talking things out no longer helps. But I can't read minds. I just know I've been shut out. I can't talk to you about the things that hurt you, because it's always 'not now', 'don't push', or you try and hide it behind a smile and then I do push and get told one of the first two things.
And then it disappears like it never happened. It never gets talked about. And I wonder...why.
When did you decide you needed a mask with me?
I know you're a private person, Jun. I also know when you hurt. You're not as good as hiding as you think you are, but I'm afraid to let you know that--because I'm afraid if I do, you'll just run further away.
And yeah, it has bearing on everything else.
I'm not really ordered on my thoughts with this, so...it'll just come as it does. I don't know if I'll ever show you this letter...or if I'll just go ahead and follow your lead on this one and just not talk about it. Maybe burn this thing after I'm done. But at least I'll have said it somewhere...even if it's brutal and pissy.
Now. Just this once, and never again.
He made you cry. Twice. I can't tell you how angry that makes me feel. I can't tell you how hard it is to watch him carelessly toss words around and score on you and then act like he didn't do a damn thing wrong. And then have to watch you bottle it up and go hide and smile at me like there's nothing wrong. Like it never happened. Like he didn't just take you and tear you apart. I can't comfort you...and I can't go and do what I dearly wish to do, which is to beat him bloody until he realizes that for all he's a war hero, he's also JUST a man--and he should be held as accountable for his actions as anyone else.
Anyone else played games with you like this, and it would be all right to be angry and want to hurt them. But him? Oh no...it isn't all right. His immunity is in his legend. I know you love him, near worship him, but just because you do, it doesn't give him the right to treat you this way. Any more than it would give me or Joe or anyone else if they were in his postion that right.
He treats you like shit. As your husband, I take exception to that. But I can't do anything about it. I can't stand up for you; he would ignore it, you would take exception. So I have to sit and watch and hope to god that he doesn't permanently wound you.
Yeah, I know, I'm probably seeing it wrong from your point of view. Maybe you think it's none of my business. But here's what I know.
He says and does things. It hurts you. And then you shut off and go away. I don't mean you leave, I mean suddenly there's a door between you and me. It happens with other things, but with Ken? The minute he's been at you, I'm suddenly alone in a room with a woman who won't talk to me, who...is a mask. I know this isn't you, Jun. I was around when you would talk to me about Ken, remember? I already know what he does to you.
And that drives me even crazier than watching Ken make an ass out of himself. You say he won't disrupt our marriage...and yet, he speaks, and suddenly...No Jun. No woman I recognize. No friend who at least knows she can come for me for silent companionship even if she doesn't want to talk about it. Just...gone until the mask is put back up and everything is 'okay' again.
But it isn't. It isn't Jun. It's just buried until the next time he can score on you and add to it.
I don't want to force you into anything. I try to respect that. But this? Not knowing how you really feel? It makes me feel like I might as well be sleeping with a stranger. I know you won't leave me. But I'm afraid that what will stick around is a shell...something built just to keep me happy and smiling when what I really want is the woman that's hiding from me now. I don't care that sometimes we'd end up crying together, or shouting at each other, or whatever. Then at least I'd know we both still cared enough to feel something. If we're talking, if we're sharing, we can face anything together...even figuring out how to keep your friendship with Ken intact until he figures out what an ass he's being.
If you shut me out, the only choice I have is to watch, and worry, and wonder.
Please, Jun, talk to me. Even if all you want to do is tell me what an asshole I'm being. Talk to me. I can't take it out here where I don't know what you're really feeling. How can I be a good husband if I don't know what's going on with you?
Talk to me. Please.
The letter shows up on Jun's desk, carefully taped shut. It has Derek's writing on it, and smells like sand and sunlight. There is nothing but her name on it.
This is going to suck. I'm sorry, I don't have much objectivity right now, and no poetry. It's okay if what I say pisses you off. I don't know if it will...but if it does...it's unintentional. I'm sorry.
Talk to you. That's what they said. Right before I was reminded that I shouldn't be talking about it to anyone but you.
It's great advice...if talking to you would work. Problem is, in order to have a conversation, both people have to participate. When it comes to it, you don't. You used to, but you don't any more. I don't know what happened. Was it something I did...or didn't do...or...?
I don't know. I lost my friend somewhere though--the one that talked to me and let me know what was going on in her head, at least from time to time. I'll admit to being human and wondering if somehow I'm no longer worthy of knowing what goes on with you, or if somehow along the way, I've hurt you enough that talking things out no longer helps. But I can't read minds. I just know I've been shut out. I can't talk to you about the things that hurt you, because it's always 'not now', 'don't push', or you try and hide it behind a smile and then I do push and get told one of the first two things.
And then it disappears like it never happened. It never gets talked about. And I wonder...why.
When did you decide you needed a mask with me?
I know you're a private person, Jun. I also know when you hurt. You're not as good as hiding as you think you are, but I'm afraid to let you know that--because I'm afraid if I do, you'll just run further away.
And yeah, it has bearing on everything else.
I'm not really ordered on my thoughts with this, so...it'll just come as it does. I don't know if I'll ever show you this letter...or if I'll just go ahead and follow your lead on this one and just not talk about it. Maybe burn this thing after I'm done. But at least I'll have said it somewhere...even if it's brutal and pissy.
Now. Just this once, and never again.
He made you cry. Twice. I can't tell you how angry that makes me feel. I can't tell you how hard it is to watch him carelessly toss words around and score on you and then act like he didn't do a damn thing wrong. And then have to watch you bottle it up and go hide and smile at me like there's nothing wrong. Like it never happened. Like he didn't just take you and tear you apart. I can't comfort you...and I can't go and do what I dearly wish to do, which is to beat him bloody until he realizes that for all he's a war hero, he's also JUST a man--and he should be held as accountable for his actions as anyone else.
Anyone else played games with you like this, and it would be all right to be angry and want to hurt them. But him? Oh no...it isn't all right. His immunity is in his legend. I know you love him, near worship him, but just because you do, it doesn't give him the right to treat you this way. Any more than it would give me or Joe or anyone else if they were in his postion that right.
He treats you like shit. As your husband, I take exception to that. But I can't do anything about it. I can't stand up for you; he would ignore it, you would take exception. So I have to sit and watch and hope to god that he doesn't permanently wound you.
Yeah, I know, I'm probably seeing it wrong from your point of view. Maybe you think it's none of my business. But here's what I know.
He says and does things. It hurts you. And then you shut off and go away. I don't mean you leave, I mean suddenly there's a door between you and me. It happens with other things, but with Ken? The minute he's been at you, I'm suddenly alone in a room with a woman who won't talk to me, who...is a mask. I know this isn't you, Jun. I was around when you would talk to me about Ken, remember? I already know what he does to you.
And that drives me even crazier than watching Ken make an ass out of himself. You say he won't disrupt our marriage...and yet, he speaks, and suddenly...No Jun. No woman I recognize. No friend who at least knows she can come for me for silent companionship even if she doesn't want to talk about it. Just...gone until the mask is put back up and everything is 'okay' again.
But it isn't. It isn't Jun. It's just buried until the next time he can score on you and add to it.
I don't want to force you into anything. I try to respect that. But this? Not knowing how you really feel? It makes me feel like I might as well be sleeping with a stranger. I know you won't leave me. But I'm afraid that what will stick around is a shell...something built just to keep me happy and smiling when what I really want is the woman that's hiding from me now. I don't care that sometimes we'd end up crying together, or shouting at each other, or whatever. Then at least I'd know we both still cared enough to feel something. If we're talking, if we're sharing, we can face anything together...even figuring out how to keep your friendship with Ken intact until he figures out what an ass he's being.
If you shut me out, the only choice I have is to watch, and worry, and wonder.
Please, Jun, talk to me. Even if all you want to do is tell me what an asshole I'm being. Talk to me. I can't take it out here where I don't know what you're really feeling. How can I be a good husband if I don't know what's going on with you?
Talk to me. Please.