Reflections
You don't recognize the person staring back at you. You lean forward to better inspect your reflection. Mascara streaks mar your cheeks, your eyes are red-rimmed from crying, crows feet at their corners remind you that you're not still twenty and your face is thinner than it should be. What happened to the professional career woman who had everything under control?
Your life is so far from where you want it to be. You wonder when it fell apart. You were happy once, you're sure of that. Why else would you have married him? You loved him (still do, if you're honest with yourself).
He still loves you; you know that. Maybe not the way he used to, the 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you' kind of love, but you're the mother of his children. Nothing (no one) can take that away from you.
As much as you wish it were so, it is not Samantha's fault your marriage is broken. (Samantha Spade - what kind of name is that anyway?) Somewhere along the line, work became your priority. And his. You are both to blame.
Still, you're not sure how badly you want to fix things.
You know it's not fair on the girls. Your parents split up when you were twelve and you swore you'd do that to your kids. Maybe this would be easier to accept if you knew Jack didn't have someone else in his life. You don't talk about Samantha in your house. The one time you brought her up, Jack assured you it was over. You wanted to believe him but you knew he wasn't telling the truth. Just because you stop sleeping with someone doesn't mean you stop loving them - your marriage is proof of that.
You know Jack well enough to know he'd never embark on an affair lightly. You have to believe that she's more to him than just a fling, because that's the only way you can justify him falling out of love with you.
You didn't expect to wake up one morning and find him sitting next to your bed. You didn't expect him to apologize and ask for a second chance. (Yet you weren't surprised when you called him later that day to find him at the hospital.)
And still you took him back and agreed to try again, even though somewhere in your mind, you knew it wouldn't work.
You can't remember the last time you looked at him without seeing her.
You should hate her, but you can't. You sent flowers when she was shot and signed the card 'Jack, Marie and the girls', then immediately regretted it. When did you get so petty?
You promised to love Jack forever. "'Til death do us part," you'd said. And he'd smiled and whispered, "And beyond that."
Something died in you when you found out about Samantha and you wonder if that means the vows still hold. Something in him died when you said you wanted to move to Chicago. Watching him over the past few days has been torture. You know what his choice is, so you have to choose for him.
You love him enough to want him to be happy. You only hope that he figures it out before it's too late. Once upon a time, he would have done anything for you, would have followed you anywhere, but you're not that woman anymore. When you weren't looking, he stole his heart back and gave it to someone else.
If you love something, set it free . . . Your life is a cliché. You're too tired to care.
You throw the wadded Kleenex in the bin and fix your make up. You've cried your last tears for Jack Malone. It's time to move on.
You leave the bathroom, holding your head high. You'll be damned if you'll let him see you in less than complete control. Jack is waiting in the lawyer's office. He stands when you enter but can't meet your eyes. Your smile feels brittle as you shake the lawyer's hand. He points where you need to sign.
It takes less than a minute to end your marriage. The house will be sold and the money split between the two of you. (Thank God for the pre-nup your father pressured you to sign.) The girls will live with you in Chicago and see their father over the holidays and school vacations.
"Marie . . ." Jack ducks his head as he looks at you and you remember why you fell in love with him.
"Goodbye, Jack." You are strong. You will not cry.
"I'm sorry," he says.
As you leave the office, you tell yourself that this is the right thing to do. Maybe one day you'll even believe it.
You just wish it wouldn't hurt so damn much.