by Sarah Kleck
Seth propped himself on his elbows and looked at me. His face was covered in sweat, and his hair fell in damp strands over his forehead. We were still breathing heavily. Neither of us spoke. We just looked at each other and left everything that happened between us unsaid. What might have happened to us had it worked ten years ago?
I would have stayed on the west coast, tried again at UW, or gone to another school nearby. After graduating, we would have both looked for a job in Seattle. Seth would have proposed at some point; we would have married and had kids. Seth’s family would have visited regularly, maybe also my Dad and Aunt Jane occasionally. We would have bought a small house, gotten a dog, and watched our children grow up. Maybe we would have been happy. Maybe not. Maybe the world would have called Seth anyway. Maybe I would have gone with him. Maybe we would have grown old together.
“I saw you.” Seth’s words broke through my thoughts. “Almost a year ago. Last March.”
It took a moment before I understood, then my heart felt a sting.
He swallowed. “At your grandma’s funeral.”
“You were there?” I asked, my voice trembling. The memory hit me like a punch in the stomach.
He nodded. “I was home for my mother’s birthday.” Seth hesitated before continuing as if wrestling to find the right words. “Your back was turned to me. You were between your dad and your . . . husband.”
My whole body became rigid. Tears gathered in my eyes. I knew what he had seen—my baby belly. It was as if my heart were to break again.
My child! My little boy!
Seth supported himself on one elbow and bent over me.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
I involuntarily placed my hands on my flat belly. It almost was as if I could still feel the little one. “I lost it,” I answered as soon as I was certain my voice wouldn’t fail. Tears ran down my cheeks. “At the end of my sixth month.”
“I’m so sorry.” Seth brushed over my hair and wiped my tears away with his thumb.
“It’s been a year,” I said as if it would hurt less.
Seth dropped back into the pillow, took my hand, and we lay silently each thinking our own thoughts. He fell asleep. I watched his chest rise and fall with his even breathing.
I got up at four in the morning, wrapped the cover around me, went out on the balcony, and sat down. It was a cloudless night, as happened only rarely in Seattle. I didn’t look up when I heard the wood floor creak. Not even when Seth sat next to me. We silently sat together, looking at the night sky. I felt him waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t know what. I just sat there, staring into the night.
What have you done?
Chapter 22
I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Yet, tiredness was the least of my problems in the morning. I was sad. Immensely sad. Over what I’d done to Holden. Over what I may have done to Seth. I’d betrayed them both. I’d betrayed my husband. I’d betrayed Seth by letting him think there could be a future for us. Most of all, I’d betrayed myself. I loved Holden. I loved him with my whole heart. Even though I couldn’t stand him at times during our marriage, I’d love him all my life. I had to tell him the truth. I owed him that much.
Since I took the job in Seattle, we hardly had any contact except for our phone calls every three days. That had been going on for two and a half months now. He held it against me that I’d left even though he’d pleaded with me to stay. But with all the quarreling and arguing that had made up our relationship in the weeks and months before I left, what choice did I have? I’d convinced myself that the distance would be good for us, that it could save our relationship. And maybe it could have—if I hadn’t made the greatest mistake of my life.
I met Seth after work. I had to clear the deck before calling Holden. I waited in a small café by the water. Seth came ten minutes late.
“Sorry, I couldn’t get out right away,” he explained.
He wore a dark-gray suit with a gray tie that day. He looked incredibly good. Like an ad for men’s suits.
He sat opposite me. “What’s up?” He smiled in anticipation.
“Last night . . .”
“What may I get you?” the waiter interfered.
“You’re drinking water?” Seth asked, motioning toward my glass.
I nodded.
“A Diet Coke,” he finally ordered. The waiter nodded and walked away.
“So?” Seth returned to the topic.
I took a deep breath. “Last night was . . . it was . . . incredible,” I revealed. I owed Seth being honest. It had been incredible. Probably exactly what I needed.
“It was,” he agreed with a smile. His voice sounded calm. He knew that wasn’t all. But he just waited for what I’d say next and observed every one of my movements.
OK, short and painless—like tearing off a Band-Aid.
“It was a mistake.” My voice trembled.
Seth looked straight into my eyes. Every muscle in his face tensed. His look was unfathomable. I swallowed the lump in my throat. The tears would soon begin to flow.
“I’m married.”
Seth looked serious. “You were last night,” he replied drily.
What was I supposed to say to that?
“I’m sorry, Seth. You gave me yesterday what I so urgently needed.”
“And that was? A pecker?!” he retorted angrily.
I looked at him sadly. “No. Someone to hold me firmly in his arms. Someone to lean on. Someone who shows me he desires me, who’ll go crazy when he can’t kiss me on the spot,” I sighed quietly. “I imagined a thousand times what it’d be like to sleep with you. I regretted all those years we never did it when we had the opportunity.” I shrugged. “If we’d met again earlier, I’m sure it would have happened earlier. I think it was inevitable. At least, on my part. I wanted it. I wanted you. And it was wonderful.”
Seth lowered his eyes, and I knew he regretted what he’d said.
“But I love Holden,” I continued as my lower lip trembled. “So much my heart would stop beating if he weren’t in my life anymore.” A single tear ran from the corner of my eye. “I’ll love him all my life. Now I know that.”
Seth raised his head and looked at me. There also were tears in his eyes.
“One Diet Coke. Here you go.”
That waiter’s timing . . .
“Thanks,” Seth mumbled without looking away from me.
The lump in my throat was getting bigger. The floodgates were about to open.
“I don’t know what this night meant to you . . .”
“What do you think?” he interrupted me harshly.
“I don’t know,” I repeated. “But I’d like to thank you for being there for me when I thought I was all alone in the world.”
He looked at me undeterred, shrugged, then let his shoulders drop. “How can I counter?” He didn’t expect an answer. He was silent for a while, then laughed bitterly. “I was such an idiot to believe destiny brought us together.”
I picked his hand up from the table.
“But it was destiny,” I assured him as the tears began to run down my cheeks.
“I never forgot you. Not in all those years. I’m grateful to the universe that our paths crossed one more time.”
Seth gave me a tired smile. “Man, you still know how to take the wind out of my sails.”
“You’re a wonderful person, Seth. I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart for the shit you’ve had to bear in your life. You can’t imagine how much I hope you’ll find a woman who’ll appreciate you.”
He blinked away tears.
“Any woman should consider herself fortunate to have you by her side.”
I got up, walked around the table, took Seth’s face into my hands, and kissed him. One last time.
“It’s beautiful that you exist,” I said as my tears dropped on his face. Then I left and didn’t look back.
Chapter 23
Holden didn’t answer his phone. I’d called four time
s. He just didn’t answer. Not that we’d set an exact time for our infrequent phone calls, but this was a bit unusual for him. He worried something might happen to people close to him—a holdover from his childhood abandonment trauma—so he always picked up when the phone rang. If he couldn’t, he usually called back within the next ten minutes. Now I started to worry something might have happened to him.
Shortly after four in the afternoon, my phone ringing relieved me of the accident fantasies and horror visions running through my mind.
“Holden.” It was impossible to miss the relief in my voice.
“Annie, what’s the matter?” He was alarmed.
“Nothing. Everything is OK.”
Oh, yeah? It is?
Stinging guilt followed the realization he was OK. The fear of confessing to him what I’d done hit me like a sledgehammer.
“I was at a trade show in New York all day,” he explained, “I’m only getting around to looking at my phone now. Why did you call?”
I cleared my throat. “Where are you now?”
“JFK. In the security line. We’re due to take off in forty minutes.”
We? So, he was with colleagues. This clearly wasn’t the right moment.
“When will you be home?”
“I hope we’ll make the plane. There’s a heck of a lot of security around today. They’re picking apart every single suitcase.” He sounded stressed. “But if we make the flight, I’ll be home at seven thirty.”
“OK. I’ll call about eight.”
“Please put your phone in the bin, sir,” a male voice ordered in the background.
“I have to go now. Later,” Holden said, then the line went dead.
I’d been pacing for twenty minutes in my apartment. It was seven thirty—Holden would be home by now if everything had worked out with his flight. I waited another ten minutes, which I spent walking back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen, chewing my fingernails all the while. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, and even though it wasn’t eight o’clock yet, I picked up the receiver on my landline and dialed Holden’s number.
“Just got in the door,” he greeted me. “Hang on for a sec.” I heard a heavy object being put down on the wood floor of our condo. His suitcase?
“So, now.” He was breathing heavily. “What’s up?”
“You were in New York?” I asked.
“Just for three days. For meetings.
“Oh.” The disappointment hit me unexpectedly. Had we become so estranged he didn’t think it necessary to tell me he was off to New York for three days?
You should talk!
Considering what I’d just done, I shouldn’t wonder why he didn’t tell me, and I didn’t have the right to be offended, hurt, or anything else.
“Why did you call?” Holden asked. “It sounded urgent.”
I swallowed. The time had come.
“I’ve . . . I’ve got to tell you something,” I started hesitantly. My tone almost screamed, I’m guilty, I did it!
“Oh yeah?” It sounded as if he went to sit down.
“Yes. I—oh, Holden, I don’t know how to tell you.” Desperation caused my voice to tremble. I wanted to continue and get it over with, but I couldn’t get a sound out. A sob escaped my lips. Damn it—I was starting to cry. I shouldn’t have been crying for myself, though. It was him I should cry for. After all, I’d done this. I would have liked to slap myself.
“What’s the matter, Annie?” Holden asked.
His tone was calm, but I knew him well enough to know how worried he was. He was worried about me while I was trying to confess I had cheated on him. I only sobbed louder with this insight. I waited for the moment between two crying fits, took a deep breath, and said, “I slept with someone. I’m so sorry.”
While I was crying my eyes out, it was dead silent on the other end of the line.
Pull yourself together, you idiot!
I clenched my teeth together and struggled to stop crying.
“Holden,” I pleaded, “say something.”
I heard him breathing quietly. “What am I supposed to say?”
He didn’t sound angry or sad or emotional in any way. His words had a sober finality that made me feel as if the floor had dropped out from under my feet.
“It was Seth, my first boyfriend. In high school. I told you about him. We met by chance . . . and one thing led to another.” I spoke so fast the words blurred together. “It was only once, and I broke it off right away. Holden, love, I’m so sorry!” I didn’t know why I told him all that. He hadn’t even asked. Maybe I hoped he wanted to know. Maybe I hoped it wasn’t too late. But I didn’t have the courage to ask him to forgive me.
“Holden,” I pleaded. “Please say something. I’m so infinitely sorry.”
I pressed the receiver hard against my ear. Listened for his breath. In and out, in and out.
“I can’t do it anymore.” His voice was barely more than whisper. “I just can’t do it anymore.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked when he didn’t continue.
He took his time to answer. “We hurt each other badly, Annie. I just haven’t got the strength to keep looking for something that was lost long ago.”
Another crying fit overwhelmed me. “Please, Holden, please don’t say that. I love you. I love you so much.”
He took a deep breath.
“Farewell, Annie.”
Then he hung up.
Days turned into nights and nights turned into days. As soon as I arrived at the lab in the morning, I put myself on autopilot and functioned until the workday was over and all tasks were finished. My employees noticed something was wrong. Once I even caught them talking about me behind my back. But no one brought it up directly. Whenever someone came too close and the conversation threatened to drift into personal matters, I slammed on the brakes and focused on being the boss. I couldn’t care less if it made me unpopular or not. After all, they had been hired to do a job, not gossip. And definitely not about private things. I soon had a reputation as the ice queen, but it didn’t bother me. On the contrary. People gave me my space. I worked through lunch breaks, and no one thought of asking me if I wanted to do something after work. In any case, I was the one who turned out the lights. I worked like a machine all day, but as soon as I was in my apartment and there was nothing to distract me anymore, the full force of the situation hit me. Night after night I cried myself to sleep, dissolved in self-pity and buried in accusations.
Seth tried a few times to reach me. Called me and even showed up twice at my building. But he eventually let it go, realizing it was better to look after other things than waste his time on an emotional train wreck like me. I once thought of suicide but quickly cast it aside. I’d only have hurt Holden more than I already had. I’d destroyed everything we had and could have ever had. I’d bet everything—and lost everything.
Three weeks later, on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, I had just hunkered down over my monthly report to the management executives when my cell phone display lit up. I cast an annoyed look at it—and froze. It was Holden. My heart threatened to burst in my chest. I reached for the phone with a trembling hand, and, after failing twice, finally managed to accept the call with a swipe. I held it to my ear but couldn’t make a sound with my lips. I was trembling. It was silent for a long time on Holden’s end, too—then I heard him breathe. I just sat there for what seemed like an eternity, the phone pressed against my ear, and listened to his calm, regular breathing.
When Holden finally spoke, he only said four words. “Please come home, Annie.”
I sobbed and clasped my hand over my mouth as tears streamed down my face.
I nodded. “I will,” I finally answered, then pressed my hand even more firmly over my mouth to quiet my sobs.
Chapter 24
I used to think that a relationship would always feel like there were butterflies fluttering around in your stomach, and that even years later, this feeling of being head over
heels in love would still manifest in a pounding heart and being short of breath every time he entered a room. That we’d lie every night tightly wrapped around each other in the same bed—and look lovingly into each other’s eyes first thing in the morning—assuming one even got around to sleeping.
But it’s not like that.
Not really.
At least not for me.
Because the butterflies disappear after a while, the heart settles down, your breath evens out, and sometimes you’re happy to have some peace and spend some time by yourself. Passion flattens out, and you don’t make love every night. In the morning, you sometimes turn away in a bad mood, hoping the other will be quiet for a few minutes.
Sooner or later, a relationship reaches the point when you stop making an effort for the other every second. Sometimes then, you show another, less pleasant side. The unvarnished, ill-tempered, farting, messy truth. After a fight, there’s no great makeup sex during which you swear eternal love and affirm that you’d rather die than lose the other. No. Sometimes, things stay unsaid and unresolved. You have to get used to that. Being madly in love disappears, and something else takes its place. Your heart doesn’t leap into your throat when he touches you. Instead, you feel well and safe near him. You don’t hungrily fall upon each other but instead lounge together on the couch, wearing sweats, covered by a thick wool blanket as you watch old movies. Every so often, he runs his fingers through your hair. You don’t spend the nights so tightly wound together that you breathe each other’s breath. You spend it side by side, sometimes turned away from each other. Every now and then, you’ll give him a little shove to stop his snoring. There are also nights when you lay your head on his chest, reach for his hand in your sleep, or pull him close to feel his warm body against yours.