”It is just a word, maybe, but it’s one that I’ve obviously made clear that I do not like. I am asking you to please not use it. If you continue to do so, I will assume you have no respect for my wishes and will adjust my own opinions of yourself accordingly,” Peter clarified. How much more simple could it be? If Enver was a reasonable man he would understand and back off. There was no anger in Peter’s tone. Just a simple enquiry. A request offered, in the hopes that it might be taken on board.
When asked about Jersey, Peter’s arms crossed over his chest and he peered out at the dogs. Jack and Ellie were always the last to come back inside. They urged each other on Peter assumed. Brother and sister daring each other to stay out longer. Or maybe just feeding each other’s excitement and enthusiasm so that they lost track of time. Peter was happy to let them frolic a while longer. He always allowed the dogs a solid forty-five minutes out of doors before he ushered them all back in to be fed, after which he could focus on his own tasks.
Peter felt no bitterness toward Jersey. He still loved her, in his own way; a pining loss that could be shelved in next to the loss of his wife. Of his unborn child. The loss of his life, really, when that knife had cut so neatly across the sharp tendons of Lily’s neck. But he could understand. He understood why she had left. There was a whole life to be lived not by his side and he could only hold her back. He had a strict routine which she would not force him to break.
Maybe she had wanted him to. Maybe that’s what she was hoping for; to pull him up and out of his own head. To get him on his knees and begging her for a way to make her stay. Maybe he should have. But he hadn’t, and it was too late.
”Jersey decided to go her own way,” he said, simply.
”We are still friends. It was for the best,” he added. Calmer than he should be. Calm was all that he allowed himself to feel. She was not the bad guy, here. Nor was Peter. They were just two people whose paths had aligned for a while, but who had each decided to take different forks.
When asked about Jersey, Peter’s arms crossed over his chest and he peered out at the dogs. Jack and Ellie were always the last to come back inside. They urged each other on Peter assumed. Brother and sister daring each other to stay out longer. Or maybe just feeding each other’s excitement and enthusiasm so that they lost track of time. Peter was happy to let them frolic a while longer. He always allowed the dogs a solid forty-five minutes out of doors before he ushered them all back in to be fed, after which he could focus on his own tasks.
Peter felt no bitterness toward Jersey. He still loved her, in his own way; a pining loss that could be shelved in next to the loss of his wife. Of his unborn child. The loss of his life, really, when that knife had cut so neatly across the sharp tendons of Lily’s neck. But he could understand. He understood why she had left. There was a whole life to be lived not by his side and he could only hold her back. He had a strict routine which she would not force him to break.
Maybe she had wanted him to. Maybe that’s what she was hoping for; to pull him up and out of his own head. To get him on his knees and begging her for a way to make her stay. Maybe he should have. But he hadn’t, and it was too late.
”Jersey decided to go her own way,” he said, simply.
”We are still friends. It was for the best,” he added. Calmer than he should be. Calm was all that he allowed himself to feel. She was not the bad guy, here. Nor was Peter. They were just two people whose paths had aligned for a while, but who had each decided to take different forks.
