Blank Slate Kate

Chapter 37

I immediately want to call Ryan and let him know, but I resist. Until I've read Donna's words I'll have nothing new to say to him.

I can't decide where to start, though. Should I go back to the beginning and read forward? Or start with the last message, probably written not long before Donna ran away? That's almost certainly the information that will help me the most in clearing things up, but somehow I can't make myself start there. Donna is more than just her decision to run away. I want to know why she made that decision.

I scroll back through the list to the first post, dated about ten months ago.

I never thought I'd use this thing, but now I need somewhere to hide my feelings. Ryan cheated on me. I can't believe it. I never thought he would.

But maybe I deserve it. After all, I didn't tell him about Grace.

I want to scream, "No, you didn't deserve it." But there's nobody to hear but me, so I read on.

I love him so much. I'm going to have to forgive him because I can't live without him.

But less than a year later, she decided to run away? What happened?

I move forward, reading how hard it was for Donna to get past the affair. I learn that I was right: she told Ryan she wanted a baby when she did because she wanted to keep him.

I need him with me, and a child of our own will make that happen. If he ever learns about Grace I don't know what he'll do. But I don't know how he would. Nobody ever told Ethan and he was too little to figure it out, my parents are gone... and she shouldn't be allowed to find me since I filed that no-disclosure form.

I take a short pause to look up this unfamiliar term, and learn that if Grace comes looking for her mother she'll be told only that the woman who gave birth to her wants no contact with the daughter she gave up. It seems unbelievably cruel, but I can understand why Donna did it. Hard to hide your daughter from your husband if the daughter arrives at your front door.

Reading on, I can't help feeling embarrassed when Donna talks about how much she and Ryan enjoyed making love without a condom. He mentioned it to me, but Donna's words about how good it felt and how close she felt to Ryan after make me feel like I'm eavesdropping on someone's private moment. She is me, of course, and yet...

I don't want to skip any of the notes in case I miss something important, but I do skim over the most intimate details, although I read enough to know that Ryan is no slouch in bed. His kisses drove me wild enough, I can't imagine being naked and under him as he--

I'm working myself up far too much just thinking of it, so I take a deep breath and move on. My only chance at ever being in bed with him, if I even have a chance, lies in learning something that will change his mind about our future. Less fantasizing, more reading, please.

I stop fantasizing entirely when Donna mentions her weekly massage.

Went to the school today. Nadine comments every time about how relaxed I am after my 'massage', and Karen is forever hounding me to take her along. I wish I could tell them the truth, wish I didn't have to make up stories and hide behind them, but of course I can't admit where I'm going. It would all come out then and I can't let that happen. It's so lovely to read to those kids, though. They're all younger now than Grace would be, of course, but I could hardly ask to move up a grade every year. Besides, Grace will be in high school by now and teenagers don't want to sit and listen to storybooks.

Donna went weekly to read to school kids? No wonder there was no massage therapist number in her phone. That's sweet, though. I guess she felt better having some connection to children after giving up her own.

My eyes linger on 'make up stories'. Donna must have thought out every word she said before speaking, since it would have been so easy to slip up and say something that would lead people to find out about Grace. I did that for the coffee date with Karen and it was exhausting. Poor Donna put on a fake front for fifteen years. I can't imagine how hard it must have been.

I keep reading. Donna continues to struggle with the affair, describing how she tried so hard to understand and accept what he'd done but couldn't bear the idea of him kissing and touching Colleen. I realize sadly that Ryan was right: his actions did worsen her depression. I didn't want that to be the case but it's undeniable. Damn it.

Then the horror of the fertility clinic accidentally revealing Grace's existence.

The way Ryan looked at me! He doesn't love me any more, I can tell. I wrecked it. I wreck everything I touch.

I feel awful for her, but I can't do anything but read on.

Ryan stayed out all night. He finally came back this morning and he said he loves me. But I don't think so. I'm a liar and a monster and I don't deserve him.

In Donna's words as she drags herself through the next few weeks, I see Ryan doing his best to convince her he loves her and that he understands even though I know from him that he couldn't accept what she'd done. Donna, not an idiot, saw the contradiction and it devastated her. Her diary entries are full of self-recrimination and self-hatred, and I wish I could somehow reach into Bubbly Words and give her a hug.

So instead, I wrap my arms tightly around myself and squeeze hard. She's in me somewhere, and she needs to know I don't hate her. She shouldn't hate herself either. She made mistakes, but she was trying to protect herself and the life she'd built. She's not the rotten person she thinks she is.

I feel no sudden release, no rush of memories, but I do feel glad that I did that. Whether it's me or Donna who liked it, I don't know, but it felt good.

I keep one arm wound around my waist and hold the phone before me with my other hand, clicking through the diary entries faster and faster. Ryan's insistence he still loves her begins to sink in, although she can't quite believe it, but her depression continues unabated. She buys her first brightly colored pillow for her home office, telling her diary that she slipped it into the house when Ryan was away because she'd insisted the house be decorated with the neutral colors she thought would present the right image and she doesn't want him to say anything that will damage her delight in that simple hot pink pillow. Her delight is all too brief, though, and she keeps buying things and getting steadily shorter boosts from their vibrancy until her doctor gives her the final option he can find.

ECT? I don't know. It's terrifying. But so is living like this. I've considered ending it, but I love Ryan too much for that. I'm not sure he loves me any more, but I do think he'd feel awful if I killed myself and I can't do that to him. Maybe I should try the ECT. The doctor says it's safe, after all.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, then open them and move on through her hopes for success until I find the aftermath of the first treatment.

It's like those days have been erased. I keep asking Ryan what happened and he keeps saying nothing special, but he doesn't realize everything seems special when it's all gone. But I do feel a little less sad. Maybe because I've forgotten stuff. It seems to me that memories always mean sadness.

I shake my head and keep going. Donna becomes increasingly confused and worried as she racks up treatments, and Ryan was right: the fourth one was a disaster, leaving her afraid she was forgetting everything she ever knew.

It's all in here somewhere but I can't find it. I can't think. I'm coming apart at the seams and I can't even remember where the seams are. I might be less depressed, but how would I know when I don't remember how I was before?

The fifth treatment shredded Donna's mind and composure even more, and that's when she began planning to leave, to go to Toronto.

I read along, assuming I know what's coming, expecting to see her saying she can't put Ryan's affair behind her so has to run away, then stop, shocked, and reread the same entry. Over and over, until it sinks in and I realize I've had it all wrong. We've had it all wrong.

I want to keep reading, but I know the train schedule and know I don't have a minute to lose so I grab my phone and my purse and run into the night.