I really liked this.
He was back, striding quickly to the couch and sitting beside her again, this time with a small, black, rectangular box in his hand. “I love you so much,” he said, handing her the box. “Open it.”
She fought back the urge to ask questions and opened the box. The necklace nestled inside was stunning. Dangling from a delicate gold chain was a glossy stone pendant the size of a quarter set in gold. The creamy white stone was shiny and faceted, reflecting the flickering light. Shot through the stone were delicate threads of gold. She rubbed her thumb over it instinctively, expecting the gold to be raised, as if painted on, but the stone was smooth and she realized the gold was inlaid.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, raising her eyes to meet his.
“In Japan, there’s an art style that is as much philosophy as it is art. It’s called kintsugi. It started with pottery. Broken pieces of ceramics were repaired rather than discarded because the artists believed the object still had value and should be saved not wasted. Rather than try to hide the repairs, they used gold, highlighting the cracks, because they believed the history of its brokenness was not something shameful to be hidden, and it’s repair was something that should be celebrated. The end effect was not just a beautiful record of the object’s history, but also a much more valuable object. By using gold for their repairs, they made the objects, simple pottery, infinitely more precious. That stone is a rare form of opal, which has always symbolized love, and it was cracked and repaired with gold by an artist in Tokyo. I bought it for you last year. I’ve been waiting for the right time to give it to you.”
Clark is saying the same thing I brought up previously, that the trials and tribulations through which they have passed are now a part of their relationship and must
not be ignored or forgotten. Pain is never fun, nor is is it fun to recall that pain, whether for self-recrimination or self-examination. But it's there. It's real. It happened. They must both embrace the pain, and then embrace the work they have done both separately and together to overcome that pain.
Lois needs to look back on that pain not as "Look at how much I screwed up!" but as "Look at how much we've overcome!" Dr. Booker is gently brilliant.
I really liked this, too.
She raised her eyes to his, confused, and he stroked her cheek before taking her hand again. “You keep talking about how you broke this marriage, like it was some sort of unilateral attack. I did this, Lois. You only left because I pushed you to it. I was terrible to you. I broke almost every promise we ever made to each other. I didn’t trust you or listen to you or respect you. I completely lost my mind. I took all my pain and grief out on you. I believed that you would always be there, that you would never stop loving me. And instead of treasuring that, I took it for granted. You were right to leave me. I didn’t deserve you.”
She started to protest, and he put up a hand to stop her, and continued, “But somehow you forgave me. And I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about years ago. You decided at some point that I deserved your forgiveness and you just let it go… You’ve never held it over me. You’ve never thrown it back in my face when we’ve fought. You won’t listen if I try to apologize for that time. Somehow you have managed to completely absolve me. But you can’t give yourself even a fraction of that grace. How can you think you don’t deserve me?”
I've been waiting to hear Clark tell Lois how he contributed to the split, and here it is. Is he accurate? Is it really that much his fault?
It doesn't matter because he believes that it is.
I tell people "Perception supercedes reality" and they don't get it. How we feel too often becomes more important - or at least more influential - on a given situation than the objective truth. Here, of course, that "objective truth" is that both are at fault for the breakup. Yet Clark feels and believes that he is primarily responsible, while Lois feels and believes that she was the one who split them apart. Neither perception is completely accurate because they share the responsibility, but each one is proceeding from the base premise that the one is at fault.
And that's why they still need to do the work. I think Clark has as much ground to cover to reach self-forgiveness as Lois does. He thinks it's his fault and that he deserves punishment. She thinks it's her fault and that she doesn't deserve to get him back. They are both a little right and mostly wrong.
I want to expand on Blueowl's excellent comment on forgiveness (because I'm a bit pedantic, you see). To forgive is not to wipe out all evidence of an offense. It is to release the responsibility of the forgiver for making right that offense. If I were to offend Blueowl in some way, she (I hope I'm correct in this gender assumption) might forgive me. But that doesn't mean that she forgets what I did and immediately restores our relationship to its previous state. It means that she releases any responsibility on her part to punish me for my offense. I would still have to earn her trust again, but I would not have to earn her forgiveness because it's not something that can be earned. It must be given freely and without obligation.
That's what Lois needs to learn, that she can forgive herself and release all the self-recrimination and self-blame without forgetting what happened. We need to remember our mistakes so that we don't repeat them. We do not, however, need to revisit our mistakes in order to punish ourselves repeatedly.
Wow. Annie, I think you've hit one of my very sensitive hot buttons. Thank your for showing us this wonderful aspect of a growing and thriving relationship as our favorite couple fights they way back to being one. I really want to read the next part!
p.s.
@Annie: This section is a little longer than some of the others because it needed to be a little long. It's beautiful and compelling and rich and flavorful. Everything in here is vital to the story. Don't take out a single sentence.
