by Shayne Ford
What about my husband?
I pick up his card from the desk.
‘You are the love of my life.’
What does that even mean?
I slap the question to the side and toss the card into the trash before I start reading the stranger’s words again.
‘True love doesn’t come easy. It’s hard to know it, and hard to live it, and rarely easy to understand it. True love doesn’t care for much. It’s consuming, selfish, blind, and maddening. It’s voracious, conquering and it despises all the rules. It binds. And it cannot be undone.
It’s a curse.
It’s a relief.
A drug.
An end.
That’s what real love is.’
A woman on a forum asks a question.
Are you in a relationship?
His response comes instantly.
Guess.
2
TESS
My eyes tear away from the computer, smoothly shifting to the window.
A sigh falls from my lips.
The fall is finally here, making me rejoice.
Sprawled in my seat, I take mental snapshots of the scenery, rearranging the bits and pieces into a collage of lively clips.
All beautiful and washed with light––the mirror of the lake, the bloody red leaves, the light gray alleys, and then, George, my neighbor, walking his dog.
The sky is so intensely blue it hurts my eyes.
Once in a while, a car passes by spinning the leaves lying on the street.
It’s late.
“Late,” I murmur.
My stare turns blank, sweeping the sidewalks, feeding my mind with the beautiful bits.
It suddenly stills.
A man just caught my eye.
I flick my head to get a glimpse of him, my eyes skimming his broad shoulders briefly.
“Man,” I mutter, pulling my gaze away just as fast, my thoughts lagging my eyes.
I change my mind and do a double take.
A school bus passes by, blocking my view.
It’s too early in the day for the bus, and yet, it slithers down the street, wiping the image of the man in an instant.
The quiet ring of my phone drags me out of the trance.
“Hey,” I say in one breath.
“Whatcha doing?”
Anna’s voice rolls in my ears, pushing away my angst for a moment.
I breathe out a soft chuckle.
“Struggling to finish the editing of this book.”
“What book?”
“The Murderer Blinked Twice.”
“I thought you asked for an extension.”
“I did, and the author granted it to me, but the deadline is next week, and I’m nowhere close to finishing it. I keep dragging my feet.”
“Is it that bad?”
I swing my eyes to the computer and pull up the file.
“Not at all. It’s very well written, and it doesn’t need much work, yet I can’t seem to be able to focus on it long enough so that I can finish it.”
She pauses.
“I’m not resorting to medication, if that’s what you have in mind,” I say, registering her hesitation.
“I wasn’t thinking about that.”
I start to laugh.
“Yes, you were... There’s nothing wrong with me, Anna.”
“No, no... I know it’s not that,” she mutters as she seems to be gathering her thoughts. “Perhaps working from home is not such a good idea,” she says after a brief pause. “Most people can’t do it anyway. That’s what I was thinking about. And you definitely shouldn’t take a pill for that. I wouldn’t be able to do my work at home, and no one else I know can do it either. There’s a reason why people wake up in the morning, put on a dress or a suit and travel to a different location where they join other folks in a work-conducive environment.”
“That would make things worse for me...” I say, sounding slightly disappointed. “Besides, I’ve tried it already.”
“Yes, I know, but maybe if you go out a couple of times a week, and have your days split between working from home and going to the firm, it would make a difference. You could do it for a while, see how it works,” she says, making reference to the publishing house I work for.
“Hmm... I don’t know. Maybe one day. When I get older...” I say with a lighter tone. “Are you ready for my birthday party?” I ask with a cheery voice as I move quickly to a different topic.
“Oh, yes.”
“Is Danny coming?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
A smile threads through her voice making me grin as well.
“Do you have news you care to share?” I ask.
Her soft chuckle echoes in my ear.
“Who told you about the news?”
“You. Just now. Are you serious??”
My voice is tinged with disbelief.
“It’s official,” she says.
“Oh, my God!”
“Yup.”
“I’m so happy for you. Why didn’t you say something?”
“He popped the question last night. I wanted to tell you after the party. I didn't want to steal your thunder.”
“Oh, forget about that. It’s only a birthday party. When do you plan to have the wedding?”
“Spring,” she says.
Sheer glee seeps into her voice.
“I told you it was bound to happen. You didn’t want to believe me.”
“I do, now.”
An incoming call flashes on my screen.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“It’s my client. I have to take that. I’ll talk to you tonight.”
“Okay.”
She hangs up while I pick up the incoming call.
For the next few minutes or so, I go over my notes with the author, giving her a stark reassurance that her edited manuscript will be delivered on time.
It’s almost noon when I put the phone down and rise out of my chair, stretching my legs.
My dog lifts her head, a questioning look sliding onto her face.
I briefly pet her head.
“Let me know when you want to go out for a walk,” I murmur, realizing that the morning is already gone and I haven’t done much work.
She closes her eyes, and sinks back into her soft bed, while I bring my eyes to the window. An invisible thread keeps pulling me back to where it wants me to be.
I stare blankly at the view, the sound of wind chimes spellbinding me again.
An optimistic thought surfaces in my mind.
I could catch a few good hours of work before the evening sets in and Allan comes home.
Swiftly, my attention goes back to the park.
It’s that time of day when people walk their dogs and play with their kids. The weather is perfect and the surroundings beautiful. Hands down, this is one of the best areas in town.
A great place to raise a family.
Allan’s words echo in my head.
“A family,” I murmur, unable to suppress the words that always find a way to make it to my lips.
The wind starts blowing again, smoothly sweeping the leaves off the sidewalks, piling them on the street.
The slideshow of images starts moving again. The sky, and the trees. The lake and the sparkling water. Sounds wrapped into the melody of words and crystalline laughter. All sprinkled with the barking of a few dogs.
My eyes get caught in a different detail, prompting my thoughts to halt as well.
A man’s hair?
I quickly shift my gaze back, looking for him.
Where was he?
I’m sure I got a glimpse of him, and yet he’s nowhere to be found.
Puzzled, I crane my neck, my gaze sweeping the view again.
Anxiety bursts through my veins.
Was he real? Or have I imagined him?
What did he look like?
Blankly staring at the trees, I try to recreate his image. Dark hair, with a few threa
ds of silver slightly scattered at the temples. A young man, I can tell, although I haven’t seen his face.
How was it even possible to see all those details from where I sit?
He was standing across the street, wasn’t he?
I consciously look for him.
It’s Friday afternoon, the park a bit more animated than usual, but still, there aren’t many men who look like him.
What else do I remember?
I torment my mind to find more pieces of the puzzle so that I can put them together.
I got a glimpse of his back as he was slightly turning. A long wool coat clung to his shoulders, open at the front. His hands were tucked in his pockets.
It makes no sense. How can I possibly see all these little things?
More information pours into my mind, forcing me to draw a detailed composite. An elegant suit outlined his muscular frame perfectly, the cut emphasizing his broad shoulders.
He wore a tie. A silver tie.
I drag my gaze along the sidewalk looking for a point of reference. There. That’s where I think I saw him.
The street is empty.
How could he vanish so quickly?
I see no cars, no neighbors. Not even a bystander. And yet, my eyes keep darting back and forth as I am searching for him, hoping that I can see him again. I start to doubt myself–– my sanity.
Was he was real or was it my imagination running amok?
I run a trembling hand over my eyes.
This is driving me crazy––the thing that my mind incessantly does, permanently spinning thoughts and images that sometimes I even doubt they’re real. The torment consumes me. It’s overwhelming and disrupting as it makes my senses flare.
Damn it, Tess. You’ve always been like that.
Yes, I have, but it’s never been that bad.
Slowly, I massage my brow.
It makes me feel a little better for a moment, but then the skin on my neck begins to burn as I sense the edge of a stare.
I flick my gaze up, and catch another image but only for a split second before another school bus crawls by stealing my view.
Oh, fuck.
I push out of my chair and dash to the window.
I swing it wide open and deeply inhale, welcoming the crisp air that rushes to fill my lungs.
Where is he?
I saw the man’s eyes.
Where did he go? Has he disappeared again?
Suddenly, I feel awake. Awake like I’ve never been before.
I can’t possibly imagine all these things. I’ve got a glimpse of his eyes. Have I not?
My mind rushes to the drawing board again to create the composite of a handsome face. Masculine jaw, full bottom lip. Teasingly curled up lip. Hooded eyes the color of the murky jade trimmed with dark, thick lashes.
Hypnotic eyes.
Drilling. Seizing. Grabbing.
Powerful eyes.
Yet, he’s not there.
I quietly begin to laugh as common sense begins to tug at me. I toss a glance across the street. Even if he were, there’s no way I could’ve registered all those details.
It’s my mind and my imagination after all.
It must be.
Grappling with crazy thoughts, I pull the window closed, turn around, and walk to my desk, soft words playing on my lips.
“There was this man. He had shadowed, green-gray eyes and beautiful, dark hair, and he was looking at me... His coat was black. His shirt was white, and his hands were tucked deep in his pockets. He was watching me... Me. Me?”
My mind drifts away as my lips mutter nonsensical words. Distracted, I slide into my chair and start to work again.
TESS
“How is life at home, Tess?”
I flick my eyes up and shoot Lisa a glance.
“Um... It’s good,” I say, smoothly running a linen napkin over the corner of my mouth.
I swallow the food I was chewing on and take a sip of wine.
Allan’s eyes stay on me.
I smile.
“It’s good. I can’t complain. Much better than working in the office, I guess,” I say as I cut another small portion of my food. “What about you? Do you like working in a bank?”
A grin flashes across her lips.
“It’s not bad,” she says, swiveling her head to her husband who nods to her reassuringly.
“That’s what Allan says,” I mutter, setting the fork down and lifting the glass of wine to my lips again.
“I guess, it works for us,” Lisa adds.
She tears her eyes away from her husband and briefly looks at Allan, who tips his chin down, validating her conclusion.
She runs her fingers over her lips.
“I wouldn’t mind doing your kind of work,” she says, motioning to me. “Although I wouldn’t want to be home alone every day.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I say, smiling warmly to all of them. “It’s difficult sometimes, but once I get into the groove, I get extremely focused. I can juggle different projects at the same time. Besides, I get to spend time with my dog,” I say, a shred of humor threading through my voice.
“That’s true,” she says. “It’s great to stay home especially when your firstborn arrives,” she tosses at me.
For a moment I can’t hear a single fork or glass clinking, not the slightest sound, as if every person in the restaurant has suddenly pulled their mouth shut.
Allan’s stare lingers on my face. It takes a lot of effort on my part not to look at him. Even so, I sense the reproach in his gaze. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.
But I’m not ready.
“I’m not ready,” I blurt out.
For sure, I brought everybody at our table to a still.
Allan’s hand touches my elbow.
“What, honey?”
I hurl him a quick glance before I shift my eyes back to our friends.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking out loud. Yes... I completely agree. Being a stay at home mom would be great for when I have kids, but I’m not at that point yet. What I meant was that I’m not ready to start working in an office. That’s what I was referring to,” I say, trying to sound as compelling as I could be.
Tension builds in the air while Lisa starts to fidget, fueling the awkward feeling growing between us.
“How was the show last night?” I ask, connecting eyes with Lisa.
“Oh. It was good,” she says, relieved that we’re tackling a different topic.
With that, the subject seems forgotten.
The rest of the evening unfolds smoothly without another weird moment.
Close to ten o’clock, we go separate ways. Lisa and Ben call a cab while Allan and I head to our car.
He holds the door open for me as I hug my short coat closer and slip inside.
Silent, he slides into the driver’s seat and turns on the ignition.
The car smoothly glides away, and soon it takes a turn as we leave downtown behind.
A few minutes tick by, the silence enhancing the tension between us.
“It was nice,” I say, eager to break the silence.
“It was okay,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Is something wrong?”
He ponders for a moment.
Every second we spend in sheer silence makes my stomach tighter.
“Listen...”
I shoot my hand up before he has the chance to voice his thought.
“I’m sorry,” I say regretfully.
He flicks his eyes to me.
“About what?”
“That strange moment with Lisa,” I mutter, evading his eyes. “I didn’t want to sound defensive.”
“It wasn’t that.”
“What was it then?” I ask, briefly meeting his gaze.
“What she said made sense. What took me by surprise was your reaction.”
A nervous chuckle makes it to my lips.
“What you’re talking about?”
Waves of heat
roll down my back.
“If you’re not ready, we shouldn’t try for children,” he says bluntly.
My chest tightens with apprehension.
“It’s not that, Allan. We’ve already discussed it.”
“Yes, we have,” he says, no longer looking at me. “And we’ve both agreed that we should do it when we’re both ready. You said you were, but I don’t think you are.”
“I am ready,” I say, not sounding very convincing.
He pulls the car to an abrupt stop in front of our home with one curt motion killing the engine. He doesn’t make the slightest gesture to climb out.
My heart starts pounding in my chest as I grapple with a bad feeling.
“It’s more than an empty word, Tess. You must know that. It’s not the truth just because you say it is.”
He pauses and shifts his eyes to me.
“It’s all that I can say right now,” I mutter.
A shadow rolls over his eyes.
He lets out a sigh that hurts me inside before he briefly looks out of the window and starts talking again.
“I never pressed you...” he says.
“No, no. It’s not you,” I mumble, rushing to argue, yet sounding nervous and unsettled.
“It’s okay,” he says, his voice indicating that he’s not. “Let’s go inside.”
Before I get the chance to speak again, he climbs out of the car.
3
TESS
“You look beautiful!”
My sister and Anna run their eyes down on me as I do a little twirl for them and show off my red dress.
“Have you lost weight again?” my mom teases me as she walks into the dining room.
“No, I haven’t,” I say, showing them to the festively decorated table.
A hand-carved, wooden table, and matching chairs sit in the middle of the room, sprawling beneath an antique chandelier. A soft glow rolls over the floral centerpiece, the candles, the embroidered linen napkins and the sparkling flatware.
Surprise reads on their faces.
“Oh, this looks really nice,” my mother says as she lets her gaze roam over the table.
The pastel blue dress sets off her azure eyes while the platinum blonde hair brings out her elegant features.