Page 101 of Tell Me Goodnight


Font Size:

“Was any of this real?”I asked, cutting her off with the cliché line. I grabbed a shirt out of my bagand pulled it on.

“W-what?” She was cryingnowand I hoped Iwouldn’t.

“Was any of this real?”I repeated for her, unable to turn my head and witness her own personal fallingapart. So, I dug a pair of boxers out of my bag instead. “Or was it all justmaterial?”

“How can you even askthat?” she whispered to my back.

“Because youusedme,” I replied, pulling theunderwear on beneath the towel. “You used my … mygrief, and mykids, andyou didn’t tell me about it.”

“It’s not about you orthe girls! It’s—”

I did look at her then.I let the towel fall to the floor and cocked my head, staring incredulously atthis woman I simultaneously loved and barely recognized. “Tess, come on.Seriously?”

Boldly, I crossed theroom to her laptop and opened it, glad to find it was still on and didn’t needa password. She didn’t stop me as I scrolled to the top of the document andread, “’I met him in his brother’s club,instantly inspired by the sadness in his eyes and the whimsical appeal of hisdaughter in the fairy dress. I needed to know him and what had happened to makehim so…’” My voice tore through my throat and I swallowed, determined tokeep it together. I managed to continue, “’Sofragmented and guarded. And I accepted the job.’”

I looked back to her.“Sound familiar?”

Tears streamed over hercheeks as she worked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Jon, I swear what Ifeel for you is real. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t. I wouldn’t …” She laid ahand against her brow, shaking her head. “God,I can’t believe thishappening!”

Watching her, Ibelieved that she believed it was real, and I felt the pain she was feeling.But I also knew as well as the next artist the power of creation. How spendingtime in your own head, with your own words, can have the ability to do amazingand cruel things to your psyche. I was talking to a woman who was writing abook about someone like her, falling in love with someone like me. Exactly howwas I supposed to know where the fantasy ended, and the reality began?

Soundlessly, I movedfrom the computer to grab my jeans from off the floor. I pulled them on, alongwith a pair of socks and my sneakers, then cleared my clothes from the floor.And I did it all while listening to Tess cry.

Still in her towel,she’d sat in the desk chair, head in her hands, as she wept nearly silently.But when I went to brush my teeth, she turned her head. “Jon?”

I froze in the doorwayof the bathroom. “Yeah?”

“Are you mad at me?”

The way she said it,she sounded like a little girl. It was the way one of my kids might’ve askedafter misbehaving, and I pressed my weight to the doorframe. This, what was nowhappening between Tess and me … It was going to break their hearts as much asmine, and I hated that more than anything. I hated thinking of how I was going tobreak it to them. Would they even understand? Or would they just accept it, theway they had accepted us being together? Had I acted too quickly, too brashly?Should I have been more careful?

I was a failure. I washurt. I was selfish—God, was I ever—but to my surprise, I wasn’t mad. No amountof anger resided in my heart, brain, or body, and I found myself shaking myhead.

“No,” I muttered. “I’mnot mad, Tess.”

“Oh … I thought …”

Shoving a hand throughmy unkempt hair, I turned and shrugged, then stuffed my hands into my pockets.“I can’t be mad at you, because if I was mad at you, I’d also be mad at myself,and let me tell you … I have spent way too long being mad at myself. I’m done.”

“What do you mean?” Shestood, clutching the towel to her chest, and I saw in her eyes that she washopeful. That hurt me even more.

“I mean, we’re cut fromthe same cloth,” I explained. “I needed a muse, and I found one in you. Ineeded to move on, desperately, and I was given you. I needed to be convincedthat I could amount to something, and there you were, to help me do just that.So, consider us even, okay?”

She took a stepforward. “So, the book …”

“You should finish it. Publishit,” and then, I thought of one crucial point and narrowed my eyes with a sternwarning. “But if my name or my daughters’ names are mentioned, theywillbe changed.”

Tess nodded, takinganother step. “None of your names are mentioned anywhere.”

“Fine. Good.” I nodded.“Then, it’s important that you put it out there. You’re very talented, Tess;you have a gift. And you owe it to yourself—and your grandmother—to do this.Dedicate it to her.”

“O-okay, I will.” Shetook another step, now only a few feet away from me. She reached out for mewith a cautious hand, but I shook my head and shot her down. “Jon … please …”

“Tess, when the guy inyour book finds out what she’s been doing behind his back, how will he react?”

Her lip quivered beforeshe replied, “Exactly like this.”

I realized that she’dalready known this would happen, and I nodded solemnly. “And what happens afterthat?”