Written in 59 minutes.

---

Jason swung his leg over the bike, and hurried to the entrance of Luke’s where Mike was waiting for him, pacing back and forth. “What’s wrong? What did Monica do?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t feel right eavesdropping, but as soon as I heard her voice—” Mike began, but Jason didn’t wait to hear the rest of the statement. He’d already been on his way out the door when Mike’s call had come through, and he was just lucky there weren’t any cops following him into the parking lot because he’d blown through two red lights.

He yanked the heavy front door open, Mike on his heels, and went inside. Elizabeth stood behind the bar, papers in her hands, and Monica was on the other side.

“What’s going on here?” Jason demanded, bounding down the steps and  closing the distance. He stayed on Monica’s side of the bar, ready to drag her to the door if he needed to. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just a little conversation between mothers.” Monica reached for the coat she’d tossed over the bar stool. “You call me when you have the chance—”

Jason gritted his teeth, stepped in front of her to block her exit. “No—”

“No,” Elizabeth said, nearly at the same time. “No, you came all the way down here. Why not tell Jason what you told me?” She set the papers on the bar, her eyes shuttered, her entire body tense. “Go ahead. You should be eager to tell him the truth, right?”

“I don’t think—” Monica’s grip on her coat tightened now, as if it were a lifeline thrown to her. “You should really—”

“What? Tell him myself? Aren’t you worried about I’ll find a way to twist and manipulate the situation like I always do?” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, you drove down here, Monica. You wanted to tell me you had proof. So go ahead, tell Jason your story.”

Jason snatched up the papers, his jaw clenching when he realized they were divorce papers between himself and Elizabeth. “What is this? We knew the Edward filed for divorce—”

“Those aren’t the divorce papers from the conservatorship.”

He looked down at the papers again, exhaled slowly. “These are from me,” he said, almost in a trance. The divorce threats had been real. How did that—how could it be right? And why— “If you had these all along, then why didn’t you use them in court?”

“That’s a damn good question,” Luke announced, sauntering in from the office, Sonny and Mike on his heels. “Hey there, Doc.” He leaned against the bar, his elbow resting on the top. His mouth was smiling but his eyes were cold. “What brings you down here?”

Sonny went behind the bar to stand by Elizabeth. “You good?”

“Jury’s out on that,” Elizabeth murmured. “Cruel and inhumane treatment,” she said softly. “That’s what those papers say.”

Jason frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense—”

“I threatened to kill myself,” Elizabeth said. She was looking at Monica who was avoiding her gaze. “That’s what those papers say, isn’t it? That I was using the threat of suicide to keep Jason from leaving me. From telling me he blamed for our daughter’s death. He was afraid to tell me. Afraid I meant it when I told him I’d throw myself out a window if I walked back into the apartment and saw Cady’s things.”

“Well, that’s just bullshit from top to bottom,” Sonny said with a scowl. “You might have been a pansy-assed Mama’s Boy, but you didn’t blame Elizabeth for the accident—”

“Like he would have told any of you,” Monica said finally. “You all would have taken her side! Talked him out of it! I was the only one who knew—” Her eyes burned into Elizabeth’s now. “I knew it was your fault, and it was only a matter of time before Jason came to his senses, and he did. That day. He came to me, and he told me he wanted to get rid of you.” She looked at Jason now, her eyes shifting, becoming softer. “You didn’t say it that way. You never would. I think even when you realized she was manipulating you, you still loved her. But you felt trapped—”

“Whatever I said or felt—I don’t anymore.” Jason set the divorce papers on the bar. “So I don’t know what you gain from being here right now. I don’t want a divorce, and I don’t care what you say—”

“But she does—” Monica stabbed a finger at Elizabeth. “You care, don’t you? If you’d known he wanted to be rid of you, you’d have taken that damn settlement and run—”

“How do we even know this is real?” Sonny reached for the papers, made a face. “I recognize the lawyer’s name. Cheap. Used by some of the girls when I was at the Paradise.” He set them back on the bar. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t come up with this yourself—”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Those papers—and those aren’t the originals,” Monica added, “those papers prove Jason wanted to be done with this marriage, and we’ll use them in probate court—”

“No, I don’t think you will.” Luke straightened, picked up the papers, flipped through them. “Because they don’t matter there. And the way I hear it, divorce court wasn’t really working for you either. No, this is a good old-fashioned guilt trip.”

Jason frowned at that for a minute, trying to work it out in his head, but saw Monica’s face flash with a hint of guilt. “You know you can’t use these in court. But you thought you could convince Elizabeth to walk away anyway. Because you know this would hurt her.”

“Jason, I’m doing what I think is best. For both of you. Elizabeth, all of this is just keeping you tied to the past—”

“I don’t know why you’re pretending to care about my emotional well-being right now,” Elizabeth said coolly, and Monica closed her mouth. “Fine. You’ve made your case. You’ve given me a copy of the papers. I’ll read them over and be in touch—”

“Why don’t you just burn them—”

“Because I want to know what else my husband told his mother,” Elizabeth cut Jason off without even looking at him. “And I want to think about what these papers mean.” She snatched the papers from Sonny, leaned down to grab her bag. “Sorry, Luke. I need the day.”

“Honey, why don’t you take a minute—”

“Elizabeth—”

But Elizabeth ignored all of them, and headed for the entrance. Jason wanted to follow, but first—

He looked at Monica, at the mother, and knew now he’d never think of her as anything else. “I left that house because all you did was tell me how to live. What to think. What to eat. How to breathe—”

“Jason—”

“I got out of there, and I’m making a life of my own. You don’t like it anymore than the one I had before the accident, so you’re trying to take it away. Again. I don’t know what the hell happened before the accident. If what’s in those papers is real—I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he said. “You came here to hurt Elizabeth, to convince her to walk away from me.”

“I won’t apologize for doing what’s best,” Monica said, with a lift of her chin. “One day, you’ll thank me—”

“One day, if I’m lucky, I won’t ever have to see you again,” Jason said. He looked at Luke. “I don’t want to leave you short-handed—”

“I’ll handle it. You go after her and fix this,” Luke said. He looked at Monica. “And Doc, you better get out while you’re still in one piece.”

—

He didn’t know where to find her, where she’d go, so he started with the only place he could think of — the apartment.

And he found her there, sitting on the sofa, the divorce papers in her hands. She didn’t look up when he came in. “Whatever those papers say, it’s not me.”

“No one was in the room when I told him I’d throw myself out the window,” Elizabeth said. “No one else could have told her that happened.” She looked at him, and all the life had come back into them—tears clung to her lashes. “No one but him.” Her lips trembled. “I know it doesn’t matter. It didn’t happen. He never filed them.”

It was almost a relief to realize she was separating them. “But it matters to you.”

“It’s all such a blur, you know.” Elizabeth used the heel of her hand to brush tears from her cheeks. “Everything after waking up in the hospital. Finding out she was gone. The funeral. Every day, I woke up in hell because I remembered all over again. Sometimes I thought I heard her crying, and I woke up to feed her, but she wasn’t there, and I had to remember. It was…” Her breath was shaky. “It was awful. I couldn’t separate reality from dreams. And most nights, I just cried, and he held me, and he cried, too, and I don’t know, I thought we were grieving together, but we weren’t.”

Elizabeth reached for the papers. “It talks about the accident. Lays out the facts. I took Cady to see Luke and Sonny. And I was going to start back slowly — just doing inventory, light tasks. But Laura came by, and she was playing with the baby, and I was having such a good time—it just slipped away, you know, and then you called, and I realized I was late, and Cady needed to be fed, so I put her in the car—” She looked at the papers. “None of that is in here. It just says the respondent took the child to a bar, and did not return when agreed.”

“It doesn’t say you worked there?”

“No. No. I don’t know if that was the lawyer distilling into the light that would look the worst for me, if it’s how—” Elizabeth hesitated. “I want to believe this a lie somehow. That I wasn’t oblivious—I never—I never thought he blamed me. He never once said it. But if he was really afraid I’d kill myself, then maybe—God, maybe he did feel trapped.” She shoved the papers aside, went into the kitchen and grabbed a cheap bottle of wine they kept in the fridge.

“It’s not even noon,” Jason said, rising to his feet.

“Well, according to those divorce papers, I’m a drunk who killed my daughter, so I think I deserve a glass of wine,” Elizabeth bit out. Then she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Monica’s not wrong, you know. I did trap you.”

“What?” Jason frowned. “When?”

“I gave you a sob story about our dead daughter, and look, here you are. Back in my apartment. In my bed. Talking about refusing to divorce me. Just where we were a year ago—maybe I’ll get pregnant accidentally again, and we can run the whole damn scene back—” Abruptly, she sat down, her back sliding against the fridge, her legs stretched out in front of her. “That’s how she probably sees it. Just another manipulation from the gold digger.”

Uncertain, Jason sat next to her, wincing slightly as he tried to get into a comfortable position on the cracked linoleum. “You’re not a gold digger. And it wasn’t a sob story. It was the truth. We had a daughter. She died. We’re married. These were facts, Elizabeth. None of them were created by you to trap me.”

“I—”

“And you told me to go away,” Jason reminded her. She sighed, closed her eyes. “I didn’t. And Justus had the idea that I should move back in here. You didn’t do any of that on your own.”

“Emily thinks it’s like a fairy tale,” Elizabeth murmured. “She called last night to tell me Edward and Alan had the financial audit, and she was telling me it was like a movie. Separated by amnesia, and we’re still here.” She looked at him. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know about fairy tales or movies,” Jason said. “I just know—when I left the Quartermaines, I wanted to make my own life. My own decisions and choices. They never let me have any say without making me feel bad or angry about it. But Luke and Sonny gave me a job and a place to stay. I didn’t have to take it — I could have left. But I decided to stay. And then you showed up, and I did what I wanted. Even when it was hurting you,” he admitted. “But I know that everything got better after I moved in here.”

“Yeah, you’re having sex regularly,” she muttered.

“You told me that sex meant something to you,” he said, with a hint of irritation. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t—” Elizabeth sighed. “I didn’t mean to make it sound…like that’s all there is. Or that it’s all you’re here for. I know it’s not. I just—” She twisted the ring on her finger. “I thought my life was over when I woke up in the hospital. I asked for Cady, and you just looked at me, and I knew, but I made you tell me because it wasn’t real until you said it.   I thought there was no reason to live, and that it would always hurt that way. But it didn’t…Christmas, you know, it should have been awful. Because she was supposed to be here. But I woke up on Christmas morning, and I looked at you, and I thought, I’ll be okay. Because I still had you. And we had each other, and we’d just keep holding on to that. It was a good day. The first one.”

“Elizabeth—”

“And I know you don’t remember it, and I can live with that. I know you’re not the same as before the accident, and who you are now is wonderful, and I don’t want to lose that. Because things got better after you moved in here,” she said, echoing his words. “But I’m just—if those papers are real, it shakes everything I thought about myself. Everything I thought about my life before, and I don’t know what’s real anymore. If I couldn’t see what was happening in front of my own face, if I couldn’t see that the most important person in my world was desperately unhappy with me—then how can I ever be sure of anything again?”

Jason got to his feet, then pulled her up after him, keeping his hands at her hips. “I don’t know what happened before,” he said. “If those papers are real, then I’m glad I got my head slammed into a rock—”

“Jason—”

“Because it would have been a mistake,” he told her and she looked at him, tears sliding down her cheeks again. “I don’t know if they’re real. I’ll find out because you should know one way or the other. But I promise you, right now, that I’ll never lie to you. I’ll never pretend to be happy when I’m angry. And if I want to leave, I’ll go.”

She rested her hands on his forearms, and he was relieved when he saw the first hint of a smile. “I’ll never lie to you, either. Or pretend to be happy when I’m sad or angry. And if I want to leave, I’ll go.”

“Good.” He drew her close, wrapping his arms around her, relieved when her body relaxed against him. And he made another promise to himself — that if he found out Monica was lying to him, he’d make her pay.

← Flash Fiction: Hits Different – Part 25 | Flash Fiction: Hits Different – Part 27 →