I can’t wait to see you guys! I know it’s been a rough year, but it’s all the more reason to have a good Christmas. Caroline and Bonnie have been planning a girls’ night for weeks - don’t even think about trying to get out of it. I’m pretty sure Caroline has no qualms about keeping us all hostage at gunpoint. Drive safe, tell that husband of yours to keep it under 90 mph? I love you, see you soon!
She’d stared at the text for nearly half an hour when her phone buzzed that morning. It was nothing extraordinary. The kind of thing her aunt had been sending for years. A simple greeting. Excitement over the coming holiday. Only a matter of months ago she would have happily texted back that a girls night sounded perfect. That she couldn’t wait to spend time with her. That there was no point in telling her husband not to speed because they both knew he would and she wouldn’t complain because there was no sexier sight than Damon Salvatore behind the wheel of the Camero with his lips curved in an excited grin.
A few months ago that text wouldn’t have left her choking back sobs on the bathroom door with a towel clamped between her teeth to drown out any noise that might escape her lips so Damon wouldn’t hear her. This weekend was already going to be hellish enough without her slapping him with the reminder of what brought them to the pits that was the end of their marriage.
Not that either of them had perfected putting on a brave face for one another. They could hardly claim to be one of those broken couples who found a way to cordially co-exist. Then again, that had never been the goal. That would require having some form of a plan, and she knew all too well it was a wonder either of them even knew which way was up anymore. The future was a mystery. They hadn’t discussed anything past this weekend. They were holding on for this weekend and then...
What?
That question terrified more than than the prospect of lying to everyone they loved ever could. The future had somehow changed from bright and exhilarating to a kind of cold dread that bore remarkable resemblance to Death’s hands resting on your shoulders, waiting for that one final straw that would destroy you.
“Elena, you ready to go?”
No.
A part of her, a long silent piece of her that she’d buried the same day she buried her child screamed somewhere in the back of her mind. No, she wasn’t ready. No, she would never be ready. This wasn’t right. None of it was right. And it never would be. That same piece of her knew that they and they alone were the only ones who could change it. Who had the power to either open every wound they concealed and let them bleed until the pain subsided or finally walk away. That part of her was the only thing left living in her.
And once again, she buried it, painted on a fake, civil half-smile, and walked down the staircase pretending her stomach wasn’t full of lead and her eyes weren’t half-swollen.
“Yeah, I think we have everything. You got all the gifts, right?” Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears, but she pressed on, glancing into the living room at the empty end table that had held the collection of gifts she’d blindly picked out only a few days before. She’d meant to do more. She’d gone into the first department store determined to find things to surprise their loved ones with, but the first thing her eyes had landed on was a display of Christmas onesies.
The rest of that day was a blur.
Moments later they were out the door. As she turned the key in the lock, she wondered if this was the last time they would leave together. Their marriage was over. They’d both finally said it. When this weekend ended...so would they. She glanced over her shoulder, her face half hidden by a cloud of chocolate tresses, and watched Damon climb into the car. If a divorce was what they wanted, if they really were broken...why did that thought even occur to her at all?
Why did it make her heart clench so painfully she couldn’t breathe?
After sucking in a deep breath, she followed suit and climbed into the Camero, shutting the door against the damp chill in the air before buckling her seat belt. But once she was settled, she realized getting to the car was the easy part.
Spending hours alone in the car with Damon was the hard part.
“Have you heard anything from Stefan?” Maybe she would come to find that silence was the better option, but at that moment there was nothing worse than silence. It seemed the last several months had been nothing but. Maddening, deafening, unforgiving silence.
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