Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 11 - "Twenty Two" (PG)

By James David Denisson

Twenty Four Weeks
Episode 11 - "Twenty Two"

Judd explains his change of mind... Quinn talks about her affair...
"...And then... Then I met him, alone. We met someplace we wouldn’t get recognized. I can’t remember where. I was upset. Judd had... Well, he said something that upset me and I needed someone to talk to. I’m crying. I’m crying into his shoulder and then I look up and... and I kiss him."

Still reeling from the shock of discovering his wife's infidelity, Judd Altman learns that he has lost his father and will be one himself. His soon to be ex-wife, Quinn, is pregnant with his child.
After almost losing the baby, Wade (Judd's old boss and Quinn's lover) realizes the truth about himself and his relationship with Quinn and leaves her. Judd, in the face of Quinn's situation, forgives her, but cannot reconcile their marriage.
With nothing but a stolen Porsche, Judd drives to Maine with limitless possibilities. A man with nothing has nothing to lose, and a man with nothing to lose can do anything.
Twenty Four Weeks begins with Judd's time of reflection in Maine and his eventual decision to return to New York City, to take back the life that has been so cruelly taken from him. Sometimes humorous, this bitter-sweet tale is full of hope, love and forgiveness.
With characters and back story based on the novel "This is Where I Leave You" by Jonathan Tropper, Twenty Four Weeks is set after the events of the movie of the same name.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James David Denisson
• Release date: Jul 27, 2016

Book preview

Twenty Four Weeks – Episode 11 – Twenty Two

Smashwords Edition

Written by J.D.Denisson.

A sequel to the movie This is Where I Leave You.

Characters and back story based on the novel This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper.

Copyright 2016 J.D.Denisson.

Previously…

How long? I ask her, a third time, quietly this time.

A year, Judd, she says replies, her eyes running, her face stricken with shame, with sadness.

The truth. Finally. A year. This was no casual fling. Quinn was not like that. This was something more.

And as I think on that truth, I remember that past year. My mind tries despirately to to sort through our life, trying to place labels on events, trying to find evidence, trying to stamp moments as real or a lie.

Her birthday. Our anniversary. My birthday. Christmas. New Year. Her birthday again. All those times together, tainted, ruined. And what about before? Everything is in doubt now. All those years tainted and ruined also.

A million questions form in my mind, but I can’t ask them. All I can do as look back her, slowly shaking my my head. The breath held fast in my chest is let out and I feel the life, the joy drain from me. I stand, walk slowly from the room, defeated, her cake still in my hands.

…

Judd… Quinn begins sadly, shaking her head slowly. There is regret behind her eyes but I’m in no mood to delve into how she looks. She has just told me that I am going to be a father, and that the man that has taken her away from me is going to stand behind her, like he’s some loyal, honourable man. We were never the same after we lost our baby.

Hang on, I say back. We haven’t spoken in two months, not since her birthday, not since I discovered her ugly secret. I have been given no explanation for her betrayal, and when it comes this is what she offers. It cuts deeper than if she had become bored with me, or angry, or even if she had simply become indifferent. She placed the blame upon Thomas, and I could not stand for that. You’re not going to use our miscarriage as an excuse for sleeping with my boss for a year, are you?

No, she replies, sitting forward, her eyes firm on mine. That’s not what I’m saying.

Because it sounds like that’s what you’re loading up.

No.

Good.

"I’m saying we were never the same after that… you just shut down, like always."

And the truth of that is harder to hear than any of her other words. Even as I hear them, even as the implications start to become evident in my mind that same detachment washes over me. I have no words, no reply. I stare into space, looking away from her. I prove her point.

...

I’m sorry, I say to her. It’s early evening in our apartment. I’m here, for the first time since her birthday, two months ago. I’m holding her hand across the table, between the bowls of Thai food.

She shakes her head.

Where we are now, I continue, "all of this... this