Page 100 of Loss and Damages
She’s in her work room, taping bubble wrap around a piece of china. I can’t tell what it is. A jewelry box, maybe, but it doesn’t matter. What matters are the tears falling down her cheeks and the sobs she’s trying to keep buried.
“Jemma, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I don’t approach her in case she doesn’t want me to touch her. She’s crying because of me, but this time a hug or a kiss won’t take away the pain. Only words will, promises, and I already know what they are.
“You’re not happy here,” she whispers, wiping at her face.
“That’s not true,” I say, though, in some way, it is. I’m not happy because she’s not, and she’s not because she can feel my discomfort. There will always be an unbroken circle between us...we can never be truly happy if the other isn’t.
“Then what is it?”
“I need more space, Jemma.”
She nods, like she expected it, like she expected me to say, “Yes, I need more.”
“Then you should take it,” she says, picking up another piece of bubble wrap. The jewelry box will be so protected by the time she’s done, a bomb couldn’t destroy it.
I walk slowly into her workshop, the kiln warm, heating the room. The temperatures are cooling, and I sit with her while she paints, a piece in the kiln, and I work on paperwork or answer emails. I imagine that’s what Leo loved best...the warmth, the feeling of belonging. I don’t paint, don’t have an artistic bone in my entire body, but I can still relate to what my brother loved about being here.
“Tell me what you think I mean by that,” I say. I want to make sure we’re on the same page.
She scoffs. “You’re feeling suffocated here. You hate Hollow Lake, you miss your penthouse. I know I said I would move, but I don’t want to live like that, Dominic. I love Hollow Lake and my grandma’s cottage. You said when you asked me to marry you that we would find a compromise, but I don’t see how.”
It sounds like she’s giving up, but she’s not. She can’t be what she is here, in Hollow Lake, in the city. I know that, and I knew it when I asked her to marry me. I thought, maybe, she’d be open to building a bigger house, but I know now she’s not, and that’s okay.
She tapes more bubble wrap around the jewelry box, her fingers trembling.
“Can I touch you?” I ask, reaching toward her. A year ago, I never would have asked a woman something like that, simply taken what I wanted, but Jemma’s still changing me, every day, and every day, I like the man I see in the mirror a little more.
“Of course you can,” she says, finally looking at me.
Maybe she’s given me the privilege to touch whenever I like, but I’ll never take it for granted.
I wipe the tears off her soft skin, and she leans into my touch.
She sighs.
“Come here.” I take her hand and tug her toward the wall where I sit on the floor next to her kiln. The heat radiates off the stainless steel, and in her little workshop, I’m the safest I’ve ever felt. I settle her sideways in my lap and twist my fingers in her hair. She tries to cuddle into me, but I hold her still. We need to talk, and I didn’t understand until today how long overdue our conversation is. “I need more room, Jemma—”
She leans away.
“No. Don’t. You break my heart when you do that.”
“I’m sorry,” she says to her hands that are folded tightly in her lap, “but—”
“No, there are no buts. Don’t do that.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“I need more room, but not emotional. Not distance between us. Never like that. I love Hollow Lake, you know I do. Your cottage, the land, the lake, it all calms me, heals me. Whenever I’m in the city, I feel the man I used to be clawing inside me, maybe not wanting to get out, but that man, the man my parents turned me into, he’s still there. The manyou’returning me into is here, in the quiet, in the flowers and trees. In your kitchen, drinking coffee. In your bed, sipping wine and making love. I would die if I lost this, Jemma. And you know it’s true.”
“Don’t talk like that. You would be okay. You’re stronger than what your parents did to you. You’re stronger than what Leo’s death did to you.”
We could argue about this forever. “I’m stronger because of you. I’m not leaving you, and I’m not asking you to leave Hollow Lake or your grandma’s cottage. This is who you are, and I love who you are, Jemma.”
“Then what are we going to do? I want to compromise. You can’t be the only one to give up something to be here, even if you say that what you’re giving up is something you don’t want. The commute isn’t great, and you still have a lot of family in St. Charlotte whether you see them or not.”
“The commute is fine, but yes,Nonnadoes ask frequently when she can see us.” With my mother and father gone, mynonnahas been giving her attention to other members of the family, spending time with Jimmy and Bianca, babysitting their children. Jemma and I have taken meals at Jimmy’s restaurant, and I’ve met Jemma’s family. Meshing our families has been slow, but I’m enjoying it.Nonnaand Jemma get along well, as I knew they would, and Jeremy got over his dislike of me faster than I thought. It turns out he loves Italian cooking, andNonnaconstantly feeds him, Tara, and Maya, something he hasn’t tried to stop, much to Jemma’s amusement.
“Then what?”
