Against the clock

56.

CONTEXT: At the beginning of the story, Meredith had to write a paper to graduate, and Derek was the teacher assigned to help her. However, due to everything that happened, she was excused from completing it.

As weeks passed after our harrowing ordeal and we were back home, the distance between Derek and me seemed to grow with each passing day. While I stayed at our house, trying to navigate through the turmoil of our fractured relationship, Derek sought solace at his mother's house. I couldn't help but wonder if my insistence on addressing the rape situation had caused Derek to distance himself, or if there were deeper issues we were both failing to confront. The mere thought of him sleeping elsewhere only added to the ache in my heart. The idea of finding my own apartment crossed my mind more than once, a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating atmosphere that enveloped our home. Was I giving up too easily? Was there still hope for us amidst the wreckage of our shattered dreams?

I wandered into the kitchen to grab a late night snack. As I turned the corner, I froze in my tracks, my heart clenching at the sight before me. There, at the table, sat Derek, his head bowed and shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched him. Without a second thought, I crossed the room and took a seat beside him, my heart aching at the sight of his anguish. 'Derek,' I whispered softly, reaching out to place a tentative hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears, and for a moment, the walls between us crumbled, leaving nothing but raw vulnerability in their wake.

In that moment, all of the doubts and fears that had plagued me melted away, replaced by a fierce determination to bridge the gap that had formed between us. 'I'm here,' I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, 'whatever you need, I'm here.'

But as I glanced down at the table, my heart froze in my chest. There, amidst the scattered papers and coffee stains, lay a set of divorce papers—ready to be signed. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what this meant. Derek was ending his marriage. I felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over me—guilt, sadness, and a pang of selfish relief. Guilt for being the cause of Derek's pain, sadness, but relief that perhaps now we could be together.

'Derek,' I whispered, my voice trembling with uncertainty. He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. 'I have to end it,' he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time, they weren't just tears of sadness—they were tears of happiness, relief, and overwhelming emotion. 'Derek,' I choked out again, my voice thick with emotion. 'I can't sign,' he confessed, his voice filled with regret. 'My hands... I can't hold a pen.' 

I reached out to his casted hands. 'Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe I can help you sign?' His eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. 'I don't know,' he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. 'If you wanna sign, of course,' I added quickly, not wanting to pressure him into anything he wasn't comfortable with.

Derek's lips twitched, and then a soft chuckle escaped him, surprising both of us. 'Of course,' he said, his voice tinged with amusement. 'I'll hand you the pen, and all you have to do is scribble,' I said softly while looking into his eyes.

His laughter softened into a warm smile as he nodded in agreement. 'Thank you,' he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. With a newfound sense of determination, I reached for the pen, carefully positioning it within Derek's grasp. His casted hands trembled slightly as he took hold of the pen, his fingers struggling to find purchase around its smooth surface.

'Here,' I whispered, guiding his hand with mine. 'Just make a mark, any mark. It doesn't have to be perfect.' As Derek scrawled his signature onto the paper, I watched with bated breath, a sense of anticipation building within me.