by White, Karey
I smiled. “I’m not good at all this political stuff. If you don’t believe me, ask Devon.”
“Devon over-reacts. You can’t worry about everything he says.”
“If you want to be a senator, you have to worry about it, too. The problem is I don’t think I’ll ever be good at it.”
“You’ll be fine, Charlotte. It might feel overwhelming right now, but give it time, and it’ll become second nature to you.”
“I don’t think I want to be good at it.” My voice was quiet. I turned my face a little farther from his so he wouldn’t see the tears that slid down my cheeks.
Kyle didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, I interrupted his thoughts. “Kyle, I don’t want to spoil your plans. But I wish more than anything in the world you didn’t want to follow your dad into politics, because it’s a road I can’t follow.”
There, I’d said what I needed to say. And now all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. A boulder was pressing down on my chest, and it felt like it might crush me. Kyle’s hand moved to my waist, and he pulled me closer to him. I rested my head on his shoulder, and his hand moved up and down my arm.
“I knew this was coming.”
“You did?”
“After you left last night, I sat out on the balcony, trying to figure out what had happened. I didn’t know you’d heard Devon, so I didn’t know what had prompted your disappearing act.” We both laughed a little. “I know this has been hard. I don’t know how I should have handled it, though. I knew I liked you that first night, but it’s not like I could drop this on you on our first date.”
“I don’t think you handled it wrong. I just wish things were different. I either wish you wanted to live a regular, non-political life, or I wish I could be the wife you need.” I laughed, a little louder this time. “Listen to me. I’m talking like you’ve proposed or something. I’m not trying to put words in your mouth.”
“You don’t have to. We’ve both known how we were feeling, and we both know where this has been headed. You weren’t wrong.”
“Are you sure you want to go into politics?” I cringed. I didn’t want to sound like I was issuing an ultimatum. But maybe I was.
“I’m less sure right now than I was yesterday.” Kyle turned my face toward his, and we looked at each other for the first time since the conversation had started. “Oh, Charlotte, don’t cry.” He kissed a tear on each cheek.
“I want you to say you’ll forget about politics, but I know if you say that for me, someday you’ll probably hate me for it.”
“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”
I felt like I’d swallowed a golf ball, and it had painfully lodged itself in my throat. I swallowed hard and then tried to talk around it, but my voice sounded like someone else. “I don’t want to ruin you.”
Kyle bristled. “Why would you even say that?”
“I heard Devon.”
“Devon doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“You know he does. And he’s right. I don’t know how to do this, and I can’t imagine having to guard every word I say and having to be suspicious of everyone I meet. I’m sorry, Kyle.”
Kyle leaned back on his elbows, but kept his hand on my back. I was glad. His touch felt like an anchor, holding us in our world—the world I knew was unbearably fragile and was probably about to break into a million pieces.
Minutes passed, and neither of us spoke. I looked across the lawn and flowers. In the distance, a photographer led a bride and groom to a spot behind a wide bed of pink and yellow flowers. The photographer’s assistant arranged the bride’s long train artistically behind them, and then the photographer began snapping pictures. During the last few shots, the couple kissed.
“Jerks.” Kyle caught me off guard, and I laughed. “Seriously, why don’t they rub it in our faces?” We laughed.
The entourage moved to the steps in front of the conservatory, not too far from us. Kyle stood and put out his hand to help me up. “This is cruel and unusual punishment. Let’s go.”
“I think I’m going to Fairfield tomorrow. I need to see my parents,” I said on the way back to my apartment.
Kyle laughed. “I was just thinking I needed to have a long talk with Dad and Mom.”
I sighed. “Your parents have been so kind to me. I hope they know how much I admire them.”
“I’ll tell them. Can I come by Monday after work?”
“Of course.”
Kyle kissed me goodbye, and for a minute, I wished I could take back everything I’d said. But I knew I couldn’t.
I wasn’t sure what I hoped to gain from my visit with my parents. Part of me wanted them to tell me what to do. Whether they said, “Marry him and stop complaining,” or “Don’t even think of marrying a politician,” I’d have been happy to turn over the difficult decision to someone else.
Instead, Dad shook his head. “I don’t envy you this one. Not an easy choice.”
Mom got tears in her eyes. “There isn’t a good option here. Either way you go you lose something.”
It felt like a long time before someone spoke. “You’ve already made your decision, haven’t you?” Dad asked.
Tears fell down my cheeks as I nodded. “I can’t do it. And it’s not just that I’d hate living life like his family has had to, even though I would. It’s also because I don’t want to ruin things for Kyle, and I would. I’m not good at all of it.”
I cried off and on as I told them all that had happened in the last three weeks, including Devon watching me all night at the hospital to be sure I didn’t embarrass the Aldsworths. Mom sat by me and held my hand. She cried almost as much as I did.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” she said when I was finished. “I really liked Kyle.”
I noticed the way she used the past tense, and even though I knew that was to try to help me as I moved forward, it hurt to think of him as something I was leaving behind. I blew my nose. “I still like him. I love him.”
“You’re handling this with a lot of maturity,” Dad said.
I didn’t feel mature. I felt like an angst-filled, weepy teenager.
“Some people never learn that love alone can’t make a successful marriage and family,” Dad said. “They believe the whole ‘love conquers all’ thing, and sometimes it doesn’t. That’s why there are so many divorces. A good marriage takes making a choice with your heart, your head, and your gut, but when you’re in the middle of a new romance, it’s hard to intelligently use any of those things.”
I knew Dad was right. My heart wanted Kyle more than anything, but my head told me the life he was offering wasn’t for me, and my gut told me I’d ruin his aspirations.
When it was time to leave, I hugged my parents goodbye. “Maybe after he talks to his parents, he’ll decide he doesn’t want a life in politics after all,” Mom said.
I sighed. “If only.”
“What is wrong with you?” Jayne asked when she poked her head into my office the next day.
“You don’t know?” I don’t know why I figured she’d know. It wasn’t like Kyle would have called Trent to discuss our situation.
“Know what?” Jayne’s voice was suspicious, and her face already looked pained.
“I don’t know if I can talk about this today. Right now everything’s in limbo anyway, so I’m not sure what I’d even say.”
“Oh, Charlotte. Are you and Kyle breaking up?”
I swallowed and shrugged my shoulders. I was so tired of crying, and even though my eyes were already red and puffy from the previous forty-eight hours, I didn’t want to cry anymore. Especially at work. I needed to laugh. I needed something to lighten the mood. “Hey, at least it won’t matter for him since he’ll be getting married soon whether it’s to me or someone else.”
My voice sounded watery in my ears, and my lame attempt at a joke had the opposite effect on my state of mind. I reached for a Kleenex.
“That’s not funny, Charlotte. I know I joked
about that, but I wanted things to work out for you two. I promise I wasn’t using you as a sacrificial lamb.”
“I know. Don’t you dare start crying, Jayne. I’m trying to hold it together, and I don’t want to see you mourning us before anything is even official.
“I thought things were going so well.”
“They were. They were perfect,” I said.
“Then what’s the—”
“Please don’t,” I interrupted. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Okay. Just remember I’m here whenever you want to talk,” Jayne said from the doorway.
“I know. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I feel terrible. I never wanted you to get hurt in all this.”
“Jayne?” She turned to look at me. “I’m not sorry you set us up, even if it doesn’t work. Kyle is even better than you said he was.”
Jayne shook her head. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine. I’m just so confused.”
I took great care to look as nice as I could. I wore jeans and a lacy, white blouse. I’d managed to keep the tears in check throughout the day, so my eyes looked almost normal. When Mia heard Kyle was coming by, she took off to the movies with a friend.
Ever since I’d left my parents the evening before, I’d been daydreaming about what would happen when Kyle came over tonight. It was perfectly laid out in my mind. Kyle would knock on the door, and I’d open it wide. He’d smile at me and take me in his arms. After holding me close for a few minutes, he’d say, “Let’s sit down. I need to tell you my decision.” We’d sit on the couch together, and Kyle would play with my hair and touch my cheek. He’d tell me he’d done a lot of soul-searching the last couple of days, and he knew there were some things he could live without. He could live without fame and fortune and a political future. But the one thing he couldn’t live without was me. He’d talked to his parents, and they’d given their blessing to us getting married and Kyle working for the rest of his career in the family business. Then he’d kiss me senseless and pull out a small box that held the symbol of everything I’d hoped for.
It was a perfect daydream, and I’d almost started to believe it was a possibility.
I was ready for my daydream to come true when I opened the door. What I wasn’t ready for was the sad smile of defeat. I swallowed a sob. Kyle’s eyes were red-rimmed and tired. He was wilted and forlorn.
“Oh, Kyle.” I sagged against the door. He stepped inside and sat down on the edge of the couch. He looked tense and ready to make a quick escape. My daydreams had not prepared me for reality. I forced myself to breathe. I sat down beside him and put my hand through his arm, until it clasped his hand. I was glad when he held mine back and closed his other hand over it.
“You go first,” I said softly.
His Adam’s apple moved up and down his throat as he swallowed hard. I waited while he found his words. Finally, his eyes focused on my hand in his, and he started. “My parents think you’re pretty amazing.”
“I’ll bet they do.” It was difficult to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
“They do. Mom was sad because she thinks you’re great. Dad said it takes a pretty remarkable girl to put someone else’s needs first.” A tear dropped onto my arm, and I realized Kyle was crying. I snuggled into his side and rested my head on his shoulder. “I wish I could turn my back on it all, but I can’t. There are twenty years of expectations on my shoulders. And I know I can do good for people. I’ve had every possible advantage, and I can’t turn my back on the obligation I’ve always felt that I have to contribute something.”
I nodded. I understood how he felt. I was just so disappointed.
“I wish I could change things,” Kyle continued. “I wish I didn’t feel like I had to do this, or that you could be excited about it with me.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never felt such crushing sadness at a breakup before. In the past, one or both of us had not felt enough for the other. This was different. Kyle and I loved each other. But every time I tried to pep talk myself into believing love would get us through this, I thought of Angela Prescott twisting my words. I thought of someone using me as a tool to destroy the good Kyle could do, and I knew no matter how much we loved each other, I would never be the right choice for the life he felt he had to live.
“It’s funny,” Kyle said. “You’re the best woman I’ve ever dated. You’re so genuine and open, and I love that about you. But I also know those are the things that make this too much for you.”
“My dad reminded me last night that successful marriages are made by people who go into them paying attention to their heart, their mind, and their gut. I’m trying to do that, even though it’s killing me.”
Kyle nodded. “See, that’s why you’d be such a good wife.”
“But so horrible at politics.”
“I’m not going to try to change your mind.” Kyle fidgeted with my fingers. “Even though I want to more than anything.”
“And I’m not going to try to change yours, even though I wish I could.”
Kyle sat back on the couch and reached out, pulling me snugly against him. We laced our fingers together across our laps and sat there silently for a long time.
“This is certainly different than any breakup I’ve ever been through,” Kyle said, and we laughed a little.
“Me too.”
“I feel like we’d make it easier on each other if we found something to argue about. We could yell and scream, and you could slam the door as I left. Then you could tell all your friends what a jerk I am.”
“And you could tell all yours you don’t know what you ever saw in me.”
“Then everyone would start setting us up again, so we could get each other out of our systems, and we’d be happy to move on.”
“What do you want to argue about?” I asked. Kyle lifted one corner of his mouth.
“I don’t want to argue. I just want to sit here and memorize everything about you so tomorrow or next week, when I’m missing you, I can wallow in the sad memory of it all.”
“What will you remember?” I asked, knowing I was torturing us both, but also knowing I wanted to wallow in some of the pain together.
“This little freckle right here.” Kyle tapped a freckle on my hand with his thumb. “I first noticed it when we were making cheese.”
“You did not.”
“I did too. Don’t question my memories, Charlotte.”
I giggled. “Okay. I apologize.”
“I’m going to miss the smell of your hair.” He breathed in my hair. “You have the best-smelling hair I’ve ever dated.”
I laughed. “Speaking of hair, yours is ridiculous. You have to go into politics just because of that hair.” I pulled my hand from his long enough to tousle his soft hair. “And I’m going to miss your manners. You’re such a gentleman.”
“I’m going to miss your wakeboarding.”
I punched him. “You won’t miss that at all.”
“I actually will. I’ll never be able to wakeboard again without thinking of you.”
“It’ll give you a good laugh, that’s for sure.” Kyle’s hand was making circles on my arm, and I didn’t ever want them to end.
“I won’t laugh when I think about it. I’ll think about how hard you tried and what a good sport you were, even when you were waterlogged and embarrassed. Man, you were cute.”
“You know you’ll laugh. You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.” Kyle laughed. “See, you’re laughing about it right now.”
“You’re right. I’ll probably laugh.”
We fell silent for a few minutes. “Your smile,” I said.
“What?”
“I love your smile. I’m going to miss it.”
“Speaking of mouths,” Kyle said.
“I didn’t say mouth. I said smile. That includes your eyes, you know.”
“That’s great. But I want to talk about your mouth. I’m going to miss a lot more about your
mouth than just your smile.” He was killing me. And then he touched my lips with his finger. “I’m going to miss everything about your mouth.”
I took hold of his wrist, held his fingers to my lips, and kissed them. And then Kyle leaned over and kissed me. It was long and slow and unbearably sad. Neither of us wanted it to end. When it did, we’d never feel each other’s lips again. So we made it last. Kyle put his arms around my shoulders and held me there. I let my fingers run through his hair. When our tears mingled together, I pulled away and bit my quivering lip.
Kyle stood and pulled me to my feet. We walked to the door, holding hands.
“I love you,” I said. Kyle pulled me into his arms and held me tightly against him.
“I love you, too.” I wanted to kiss him again, so much I ached clear to my toes, but I think we both knew if we started kissing again, we wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.
When Kyle left, I watched him all the way down the stairs. He looked up and our eyes held for a moment. After he went through the door, I hurried over to the window and watched him out on the sidewalk. Cuddy was there, and I watched the two men talk for a minute. Kyle looked up and winked at me. After a minute, he started down the sidewalk. His car was about halfway down the block. He looked back at me over the top of his car.
I hoped he couldn’t see the tears streaming down my cheeks. Even though it was probably the corniest thing I’d ever done, I blew Kyle a kiss. He smiled and blew one back. Then he got in his car and left.
I didn’t call Angus for therapy. In the past, therapy had always been a rite of passage, symbolically preparing me to move on.
I was nowhere close to being ready to move on. Even though Angus was a pro at telling me what I needed to hear, I didn’t want to hear any of it. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone telling me there were other fish in the sea, or there was someone even better out there for me. I hoped it was true, but right now I couldn’t imagine it. I needed to mourn what I’d had with Kyle.