the secrets she couldn't help but keep.
billy black/sarah black
1. Chapter 1
Rating 5/5 Word Count 731 Review this Chapter
The night drizzles on, the thunder shaking the walls.
The mahogany box opened and his tears flow freely.
Finding secrets in between passages.
The first day he finds one, he's in the living room.
He grabs the remote and drops her book on the floor.
Grabs it and a color catches his eye.
The book flipped open, folded page and highlighted words.
A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.
He stares at words and wonder what she meant by them.
He closes the book, Pride & Prejudice.
He remembered how she cried watching that movie.
Charlie calls and offers to buy the truck for his daughter.
He sends Jacob out to clean it.
He ran in the house, "Hey Dad, is this yours?"
He threw the book on the kitchen table, Greek Stories Retold.
"It was out in the truck."
Billy nods and sends him away.
Flips through and finds it.
Narcissus left Echo heartbroken and she spent the rest of her life in lonely glens, pining away for the love she never knew, until only her voice remained.
He's haunted by this for days.
He doesn't know what she intended and he'd probably never find it.
She wasn't supposed to die.
No one ever is.
Days turn into week which turns into months and years.
His eyes hardened over time and his daughters stop trying to console him.
The wound was too deep and no one had gauze that could cover.
She was always in her own state of being, her head draped around a romance novel she couldn't bring to life.
They never went on a honeymoon and she was placed in a small house with holes barely big enough to breathe.
"If you could be anywhere with anyone right now, where and who would it be?"
"Um, I would be fishing with my friends, I think."
He never registered the look on her face as she walked back inside the bedroom that day.
The first few years were okay.
Sometimes she woke up happy.
Sometimes the walls she put up were too tall and Billy was never taught how to rock climb.
She questioned him, "If the one you loved died, what would do you do?"
He looked up at her from his coffee mug, "I don't know. Why?"
She shook her head and smiled painfully.
Their marriage was nothing but puzzling questions and kisses that held emptiness in her eyes.
He stopped looking for her secrets when he forgot the way she laughed.
"Hey Dad, it's me, Rachel. I was wondering if you could mail me some pictures of Mom. Thanks."
He grabs the box from the hallway closet and looks for pictures.
He can't help but notice the sparkle in her eyes fading over time.
He wonders if he was the one that dimmed it.
He holds her hand in the hospital, her face paling.
"I'm here, I'm here."
She manages to open her eyes and closes them again.
"Why are you here?"
He doesn't answer and her eyes never open again.
He opens the drawer in her side of the closet.
A paper flutters to his lap.
Someone falls in love first. Someone puts someone else up on a pedestal. Someone works very hard to keep things rolling smoothly; someone else sails along for the ride.
He bites his lips to keep the tears from coming.
This night, though, he puts everything away.
Her pictures, her books, everything that she ever touched.
The last note he read made everything he believed in rip and fall apart.
Just know that this isn't an accident. When you discover the car rammed into a tree, know that it wasn't God decided to do you wrong.
It was me.
I thought I could keep this going, my life, my secrets, my facade, but every day, it gets harder.
I see the kids grow up and one day I know that we will be alone again.
And it scares me.
I married you, yes, I thought I was in love.
But your charm faded and so did what I used to feel so many years ago.
Don't blame God for this. Don't blame anyone.
Cliche or not, things happen for a reason.
I gave you my all and you didn't know what to do with it.
He places it in the box, his hands (and his heart) weighing with it all.
And he knows it's finally time to say goodbye.
It takes two people to make a lie work: the person who tells it, and the one who believes it.