true.
“Blair! Are you sure?”
“He was going to divorce me. I found the papers in his study the morning you came. He was getting everything ready. He had already contacted a lawyer. I found everything. I even found out what… what her name is.”
Blair looks down at her lap and I see the first tears of the day slip down her cheeks.
I close the distance between us and put a protective arm around her. This is too much. Too much for one person. Why does it always seem like it’s too much?
“Blair, I am so, so sorry.” I start to tear up as well.
“No one knows,” she manages to say through her tears. “I don’t want anyone to know.”
“I won’t say a word,” I assure her. “Are you sure he didn’t file anything already?”
“I don’t think he did,” she says, shaking her head. “Everything was all in one place. I think he was just getting everything ready to… ready to tell me.”
She covers her face with her hand. Blair’s body shakes with grief and with what must be a horrible sense of rejection, which no one will probably ever know about so no one will be able to help her through it.
We are lost in our own thoughts and tears for several long moments . I remember how dazed Blair looked when I came into the sunroom four days ago and found her sitting at the piano. I remember how Peter Agnew had said Blair had been hysterical the day Brad died, but appeared numb the morning after, when he came into the kitchen and he found her already sitting there. She had just come across the sad evidence of Brad’s unfaithfulness. And no one knew it. I wonder why she kept it a secret from me these last four days when she had been so candid about everything else.
“Blair, I wish you would have told me sooner.” I patted her shoulder. “I feel bad that you’ve had to bear this alone on top of everything else.”
I don’t know what I would have said to her in the last four days had I known, but it is true that I am aching for her in a fresh way .
“I… it wouldn’t have mattered,” she says miserably. “You wouldn’t have been able to stop it.”
“Stop… stop what?” Surely she can’t mean I wouldn’t have been able to put an end to Brad’s affair. His own death had already taken care of that.
“I think I know why all of this is happening to me,” she says, ignoring my question and looking off toward her girls, two dark blue dots at the far end of the expansive back yard. “I think I know why.”
Then Blair wipes her eyes and looks at me.
“I think God is punishing me.”
I have never heard Blair talk like this about God. Not in this way.
“Blair, I don’t think—”
“He is, Tess. I know it.”
“Blair, Brad having an affair is not your fault! He’s the one who blew it! And you certainly can’t hold yourself responsible for his heart attack. He had a heart condition no one knew about.”
But I can see by the look on Blair’s face that she has already given the matter hours and hours of desperate thought. She has mulled it over for four days. She doesn’t see how incredibly irrational she is being. All she sees is a horrible situation that must have a divine cause.
“I know why He is punishing me,” she continues. “I found something awhile ago. Something that doesn’t belong to me. Something I should’ve returned a long time ago, but I never did. I had almost forgotten about it. But then I found it again a couple months ago when I wascleaning out closets. I found it. And I think I was supposed to do something. But I did nothing.”
She pauses and I nervously raise my head looking past her to see if the minister who performed the funeral is still here. I am searching the torsos of the men on the patio, looking for someone in all black except for a square of white at his Adam’s apple. I need help. Blair needs help.
“Blair, I am sure whatever it is you have done —”
But as I am saying this, Blair reaches into the pocket of her black linen jacket and pulls
“Blair! Are you sure?”
“He was going to divorce me. I found the papers in his study the morning you came. He was getting everything ready. He had already contacted a lawyer. I found everything. I even found out what… what her name is.”
Blair looks down at her lap and I see the first tears of the day slip down her cheeks.
I close the distance between us and put a protective arm around her. This is too much. Too much for one person. Why does it always seem like it’s too much?
“Blair, I am so, so sorry.” I start to tear up as well.
“No one knows,” she manages to say through her tears. “I don’t want anyone to know.”
“I won’t say a word,” I assure her. “Are you sure he didn’t file anything already?”
“I don’t think he did,” she says, shaking her head. “Everything was all in one place. I think he was just getting everything ready to… ready to tell me.”
She covers her face with her hand. Blair’s body shakes with grief and with what must be a horrible sense of rejection, which no one will probably ever know about so no one will be able to help her through it.
We are lost in our own thoughts and tears for several long moments . I remember how dazed Blair looked when I came into the sunroom four days ago and found her sitting at the piano. I remember how Peter Agnew had said Blair had been hysterical the day Brad died, but appeared numb the morning after, when he came into the kitchen and he found her already sitting there. She had just come across the sad evidence of Brad’s unfaithfulness. And no one knew it. I wonder why she kept it a secret from me these last four days when she had been so candid about everything else.
“Blair, I wish you would have told me sooner.” I patted her shoulder. “I feel bad that you’ve had to bear this alone on top of everything else.”
I don’t know what I would have said to her in the last four days had I known, but it is true that I am aching for her in a fresh way .
“I… it wouldn’t have mattered,” she says miserably. “You wouldn’t have been able to stop it.”
“Stop… stop what?” Surely she can’t mean I wouldn’t have been able to put an end to Brad’s affair. His own death had already taken care of that.
“I think I know why all of this is happening to me,” she says, ignoring my question and looking off toward her girls, two dark blue dots at the far end of the expansive back yard. “I think I know why.”
Then Blair wipes her eyes and looks at me.
“I think God is punishing me.”
I have never heard Blair talk like this about God. Not in this way.
“Blair, I don’t think—”
“He is, Tess. I know it.”
“Blair, Brad having an affair is not your fault! He’s the one who blew it! And you certainly can’t hold yourself responsible for his heart attack. He had a heart condition no one knew about.”
But I can see by the look on Blair’s face that she has already given the matter hours and hours of desperate thought. She has mulled it over for four days. She doesn’t see how incredibly irrational she is being. All she sees is a horrible situation that must have a divine cause.
“I know why He is punishing me,” she continues. “I found something awhile ago. Something that doesn’t belong to me. Something I should’ve returned a long time ago, but I never did. I had almost forgotten about it. But then I found it again a couple months ago when I wascleaning out closets. I found it. And I think I was supposed to do something. But I did nothing.”
She pauses and I nervously raise my head looking past her to see if the minister who performed the funeral is still here. I am searching the torsos of the men on the patio, looking for someone in all black except for a square of white at his Adam’s apple. I need help. Blair needs help.
“Blair, I am sure whatever it is you have done —”
But as I am saying this, Blair reaches into the pocket of her black linen jacket and pulls
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