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When Mary lies in her bed at night, by herself, she thinks, she had two husbands.
A lot of the time, she and Tim pretend that year never happened.
He was gone and then he was back.
There was not a stranger lying beside her in bed, tucking their daughter in at night. There was no monster kissing her before she left for work in the morning and holding her hand to reassure her that everything was alright.
There was no her, telling them both to leave until she figured out what the hell was going on.
They don’t talk about that year or so.
They tried a therapist once but how does one explain; it was no imposter; it was him and then it wasn’t.
She had two husbands. One she brought back with her rainbow lights and kind words to graveyard diggers and one that dropped out of the sky.
One is her Tim who needed help to remember all of his favorite spots in town but could remember the color of her lipstick the night of their prom. A man who remembered where she liked to put her favorite spoon, who made her desserts while he was recovering at home. He kissed her and told her he missed her and it felt real . And one makes her so angry sometimes, she can't even breathe.
“Is Daddy coming home?” Her daughter asked her the night she sent Tim (the returned) to stay with Troy.
“Of course, baby.” She had said back and her daughter had looked at her with his eyes, big, round and sad and she had never missed him more.
It took months for Tim to be able to look her in the eye and ask “You didn’t know, not once did you think otherwise?”
“Please don’t make me answer that.” She had said in return.
They spoke in hushed whispers, his eyes wide with something like disgust or maybe fear.
“All that time?”
“No.” She said. “Not once.”
She thinks in a dream world, they would have given her Tim back on the first try, saved the other one for when they needed him. They wouldn’t have driven chaos and confusion into their town, they would have seen how much she loved him and they would have realized their robot could be so much more useful not fucking with her and their family.
She knows that Tim thinks everything happened for a reason. She knows that because that’s what he says to her when he starts making that silly little costume.
He says: “Maybe this is what I was meant to do, Mary!”
She asks: “What about what we need you to do? What about what I want?”
He doesn’t answer, because Tim Jensen was a coward before and now he’s using that damn metal costume and Dwayne Libbydale to run away once again.
That’s not the case and you know it , a voice like Sammy says in her head. Sammy who was firmly on her side until even he realized there were worse things coming.
Their town is falling apart, and she hates that Tim was the catalyst. She hates that she’s not allowed to say that, she’s not allowed to say “The man I love is ruining our house, our town again.”
He left.
They took him , the voice chides.
It’s hard to build a new normal if the person she’s trying to build with refuses to enter the damn building.
“This is a stupid idea!” She says to him. “You’re going to get hurt or worse!”
“I don’t need another mother, Mary.” He responds, quick and sharp. She steps back from him, her mouth gaping a little.
“I’ll remember that.” She says and when she turns to go, he grabs her wrist. “Let go of me.”
“No, we need to talk.” He says and she shakes him off of her, his grip was loose and he doesn’t want to fight her. “You can’t just get angry every time I bring this up.”
“I can, actually.” She looks into his big blue eyes and says, “If anything were to happen to you,”
“Then you can be right.” And this is the biggest concession she will get, “You can be right and I can be wrong and we can move on.”
“It’s not that simple.” She snaps and she doesn’t know why she’s dragging this argument out. Yes, she does. If she says the right thing, he might just quit this, he might finally come home.
“It’s already done.”
They had made a promise early in their marriage they would never argue in the house, in earshot of their children. But now every time she sees him walk out the door she knows he’s doing something stupid. She knows he’s doing what he thinks is right.
Who is she to stop him?
There aren’t any stories where Lois Lane begs Superman to stop so why can’t she just let him go?
“Mary, I love you.” He says, and she waits for the but, it doesn’t come. He comes in late and sits on the bed knowing she’s not sleeping and he says again “I love you.”
She says “I love you too.” And she means it because even after everything, she sees his blue eyes and her heart beats out of her damn chest.
Sometimes and she never says anything to anybody, she sees the other Tim (her Tim, if she’s letting herself be honest) and she sees those bright blue eyes and she thinks, how could I have been so stupid?!
But she also thinks about a Tim who looked at her and said: “I don’t remember much but I can remember that I love you.” A Tim she thought she brought back with her love, a Tim she loved for a year until the other one, flawed and so imperfect came crashing back into her life.
“Mary,” Tim says. “Come out here.” He takes her hand and leads her into their garage and beside his creaking massive metal tin, there is a radio and a mic. “I know you didn’t, don’t like this.” She snorts, that was an understatement. “But when I do this, I want you to know you can always reach me.” He taps a black patch on the suit and it beeps. “Know that I’m always coming back.” She kisses him and it feels real.
She thinks there is a crack in their foundation and he keeps putting plaster on top of it and she lets him. She loves him and she loved him even when he was gone, and when he was back and when he came back again.
There isn’t a Mary in the universe that doesn’t love her Tim, who wouldn’t move the damn stars to get him back. But there is also a Mary that sits in the graveyard with a rainbow making machine and dreams of his smile. There is a Mary who sees bright blue eyes and feels a jolt in her heart. And there is a Mary that lies in her bed at night by herself knowing she could just walk outside and know where he is and chooses not to.
At least, she knows this is real.