The Devil's Lair (11 page)

Jack, Leila,

I can only guess what you are thinking or feeling. I’ll try to address all the concerns and questions I can only imagine are running through your minds.

I’m sorry.

I apologize for leaving you with the task of consoling Shane, but that is all I can apologize for.

I hope with this letter, I can help you to understand why I decided to leave my son sooner than necessary.

I’ve been carrying around the reality of Shane being alone long enough that I should have gotten used to it. Until the moment I picked up this pen, I can honestly say I still haven’t. It’s unnatural to think that way. It goes against everything you believe as a mother. Once you become a mother, your one and only job on this earth is to take care of your child. To protect him, keep him safe, keep him happy, and ensure he grows up to be the adult you know you’ll be proud of.

Now, imagine picturing birthday after birthday, Christmas after Christmas, school events, scrapes, bruises, failed tests, broken bones, achievements, finding love, having a family, and facing any horrors that life decides to throw his way. Please imagine him experiencing all of that without his mother. I had to. I had to predict and foresee all of these wonderful, horrible, sad, happy, exciting, and scary moments he will be experiencing without me.

Those images kept my reality in check. By constantly remembering I won’t be there for him, I was able to use my time constructively by planning ahead. I used what little energy I had to secure a future for my son. It was a false sense of security, but I held onto it to keep me sane. That, along with my need to make his dreams come true, helped me to get through my sleepless nights.

And then you came into our lives.

After you asked for guardianship, my plans were all moot. I had to revisit and revise. I no longer had to worry about his wellbeing or his welfare. He will be secure. He will be safe, happy, and loved. I no longer had to waste what little energy I had worrying about him. A weight I had been carrying was lifted, thanks to you.

Only two things continued to consume my every waking moment. The first one was my absence in his life. You couldn’t help me with that, no one could. I felt helpless. Maybe I could possibly make it better by leaving behind what I wanted him to know, what I wanted him to remember. The best gift I could give my son was happy thoughts, happy memories of me.

I’ve filled this box with tokens, letters, and memories that I want him to have. I realize these tangible gifts are all a poor substitute. In the box you’ll find silly little toys and birthday cards. Pictures of us together since the day he was born. I’ve written letters marking milestones, some to comfort his first failures, and many to tell him how much he meant to me and how much I loved him. The most important letter is my explanation, my apology, and the reason why I’ve chosen to end my life. He’s too young to understand it all. I would never expect you to attempt to explain it to him. For now, all he needs to know is that his mommy loved him and God needed her in Heaven to look over him and to be an angel. We’ve had this conversation before. It won’t be a surprise to him.

The second thing that consumed me was my fear. I’m terrified of what will happen to me. I’m terrified of the pain and the unknown. I’m terrified of losing control and having Shane witness it. I wish I could just close my eyes and go to sleep.

Thanks to Dr. Colsin, I can.

I know without having to ask that you will give my son your love and a wonderful life. I know that you will give him support and financial security. I know you will welcome him into your family, making him feel it’s where he’s meant to be. I know you will console him through this difficult time, dry his tears, and hug him when he wakes from a bad dream.

You can give him every single thing he will ever need except for one, a happy memory of his mother.

So, please leave that one up to me?

With love and immeasurable gratitude,

Paula Elliot

Predictably, we didn’t get any sleep last night. I lay beside my wife in bed, answering any random question that would pop out of her mouth. With each hour that passed, the questions lessened. We may not understand her decision or agree with it, but it’s not our place to judge.

Leila explained her behavior earlier and admitted she was angry with Paula. The box helped her replace the anger with empathy. Just as Paula informed us, everything necessary to give Shane happy memories of his mother was inside that box. Also included were medical records, a copy of her Last Will & Testament, (which had been revised and dated only a few days ago), contact information for her lawyer, contact information for Dr. Colsin, bank account information, keys to their apartment, Shane’s birth certificate, a list of Shane’s favorite things, a list of what he hated or disliked, a list of living relatives, and one single picture of his father.

I held the picture for a long time, judging the man who chose to leave his child behind. Jen said he took off when Paula told him she was pregnant. He never learned if Paula had a boy or a girl. He’s not listed on the birth certificate. He’s insignificant. If Shane were to one day insist on knowing who he is, only then should we give him that information.

Once the kids wake, Beverly will be taking the twins to her room to have breakfast. Leila and I will have a quiet breakfast with Shane. The lack of sleep, along with the emotions that consumed us, has taken its toll on our faces. We both look like we’ve been through hell, and the worst part hasn’t occurred yet. Through it all, my wife still hasn’t shed a tear or accepted my touch. I know she’s having her moment and handling it the only way she knows how. I just wish she would let me handle some of it for her.

We’re both dressed and waiting for this fateful moment in time where Shane learns of his future.

“Are you okay?”

My wife stops pacing and shrugs. “How are we going to do this?”

“Just as she asked us to.”

She looks over at me confused, almost as if she didn’t hear my response. “Jack, I’m scared.”

I cross the room to where she stands, and she takes a step back.

“We’ll do this together. We’ll take it one day at a time. It’s not going to be easy. Hopefully with each day that passes, we’ll help him get closer to being happy again.” I reach out to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. At my touch she stiffens. “One day at a time, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her topaz eyes lack their brilliance. The dark circles make them look lifeless. I’m not concerned. My wife always wears her emotions. She also has a fire that cannot be extinguished. With each challenge, the light in her eyes always returned brighter than ever. I know with every moment she spends with Shane, with every day that passes, she’ll once again be my Leila, the light of my life and of our three kids as well.

Jack

They sit stunned by Jen’s news. The emergency meeting, the fact that both Leila and I look like shit, and the tension that could have been cut with a knife makes sense to them now. As they all slept obliviously happy in their rooms, grief from the incomprehensible way Paula decided to handle her illness was plaguing us only a few doors down. Glancing from face to face, it’s evident how badly this is affecting them as well.

“I’m leaving it up to you. It’s your call,” Jen voices, bringing me back to her speech. “The studio feels the same and will support whatever you decide.”

“Give us a few to discuss it,” I reply with no emotion whatsoever.

Jen nods, “Okay. I have some phone calls to make. I’ll be back.” She saunters out of the holding room and closes the door behind her. The five of us sit watching the door, as if she’ll be returning at any moment.

“What do you guys want to do?” I ask, making eye contact with Hunter first.

As he opens his mouth to answer, Leila interrupts, “We cancel. She was part of our family. We’ll return at the tail end to give them their three nights.” Leila sits by herself in the corner. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse and raw.

“I agree. You?” I ask, looking from Hunt to Scott to Trey. They all nod wordlessly.

My wife, while still staring into space adds, “Paula was cremated. She wants her ashes sprinkled at Shane’s favorite park once we get back. While here, I’d like to have a memorial for her, even though we will have another at home to honor her wishes.”

“We will, Babe. I’ll have Jen set it up.”

“Lei, are you okay?”

She shifts her focus to Hunter, her expression still blank and void of all emotion. “I’ll be fine,” she responds with a touch of annoyance.

“I couldn’t even imagine what Paula was feeling to make such a final, horrific decision. Would I even have the courage to do what she did? I’m not so sure I would…I’m not so sure I do.” Scott says what he’s thinking out loud.

In a flurry Leila stands and points a finger at him, “Don’t you dare judge her! You’re right. You have no idea what she was feeling, what she was forced to endure. I held that little boy all morning as he cried for his mommy. It was hell. I still don’t fault her for what she did. Because I’m the one who gets to wipe his tears, hold him, love him, and see him grow up. So, none of us have the right to judge her!” She storms out of the room and slams the door behind her.

Scott looks mortified, immediately apologizing to me, “I didn’t mean it that way.” He stands to follow her, but I stop him with a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Let her be. Give her time. She’s dealing with her own anger and isn’t handling it well.” Scott faces me, clearly lost as to what he should do. “You can talk to her later. Let her be,” I repeat.

He releases a weighted sigh while shaking his head. “She misunderstood.”

“She’ll realize that once she calms down.”

After a few awkward seconds, Hunter says, “Jack, go check on her.”

It takes a few minutes for me to find my wife. After checking several of the dressing rooms backstage, I finally find her sitting in one of the seats in the dark arena. She lifts her head as I approach, but doesn’t look my way.

“Is he mad?”

I take a seat beside her, turning slightly so I can see her shadowed face. She continues to stare straight ahead, refusing to meet my gaze. “He’s worried that he upset you.”

“I really handled that badly.”

It’s more of a statement than a question. Either way, I disagree with her. “Lei, you handled it as most would. Stop beating yourself up.” I wait until she finally looks at me. “Babe, you aren’t talking to me. You’re keeping it all in. It’s eating at you. You haven’t cried.”

“I’m too mad.”

“It’s okay to be mad at her. You don’t have to feel guilty because you do.” I take her hand in mine, bringing it to my lips for a soft kiss. It’s the first time she allows me to touch her intimately. “Babe, you don’t have to defend her decision if you are struggling with it yourself.”

She pulls her hand away, annoyed once again. “I’m not mad at Paula. I’m defending her because it needs to be done. I’m mad at…” She stops speaking, looking bewildered and lost.

“Who? Tell me.”

“I’m mad at the situation! I’m mad at God. I’m mad at Jen for not successfully talking her out of it. I’m mad we get to have Shane and live happily ever after. I’m mad that everyone who hears her story is going to judge her.” The tears finally come. Sobs wrack her body as she struggles to control herself. “I don’t have the right to be angry,” she adds in a voice barely above a whisper.