A Thread So Thin

by Marie Bostwick

  I paused a moment, then whispered, “I told her I needed to talk it over with you.” I lifted my eyes from the knothole to Garrett’s face. His mouth was tight but he was breathing through his nose. His nostrils flared out and turned white when he was mad. I’d never known that before.

  “When did you tell her that?” he asked.

  I closed my eyes. They stung, the way they do when the optometrist puts in those drops that are supposed to make your pupils dilate. “Right before spring break.”

  “Spring break!”

  He smacked his hand, palm open, against the painted wood doorjamb. I flinched, startled by the sound and the volume of Garrett’s voice.

  “Are you serious? You’ve known about this for two months. Two! And you’ve never even discussed it with me? Damn it, Liza!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, knowing it was too late for that.

  “How could you do that? Just cut me out of the loop like that? No wonder that lady thinks I’m some kind of throwback to the cavemen! She thinks I told you that you couldn’t go to Chicago, told you to pass up the job of a lifetime…and it is the job of a lifetime, Liza! I’m no art critic, but even I can figure that out. She thinks I told you to pass all that up just so you could stay in New Bern and dust our apartment or something. No wonder she thinks I’m a misogynistic jerk! I’d think the same thing! Liza, why didn’t you just talk to me about it? What did you think I was going to say?”

  My eyes were stinging again, this time with tears. “I…I don’t know. I was going to. I wanted to. But I was afraid. I was afraid you’d say no…or that maybe…I don’t know. It didn’t seem worth it. It’s just a job.”

  “Just a job? No!” He shook his head furiously. “No, it’s not! It’s a great opportunity for you. What would make you think I’d say no to something like that? We could have moved to Chicago.”

  “But you love New Bern. So do I. And you’re getting your business established. You’ve got all those new clients….” Even as I was saying the words, I knew how stupid they sounded. As long as Garrett had a laptop and an Internet connection, he was in business.

  “I was afraid to talk to you about it. I’d have to work a lot of hours and go to school at night too. And it would be very public, a lot of publicity and gallery openings and parties. I was afraid that even if you said yes, later you’d resent the job, resent me for taking it. Zoe says that even when they say they won’t, men always end up resenting women who have careers that are more powerful than—”

  Garrett looked ready to explode. “Wait a minute! Zoe said? You talked this over with Zoe? Probably Kerry and Janelle, too, but you didn’t talk it over with me? I can’t believe this!”

  He clenched both his fists tight and let out a growl, as if the effort of not driving a fist into the nearest wall was almost more than he could bear. “Where have you been the last few weeks? Or months? Or years? Don’t you know me better than that by now? Didn’t you hear anything that Reverend Tucker said? A marriage that isn’t based on friendship first doesn’t stand a chance of lasting. And a friend is somebody you talk to, Liza. The people who you share your secrets with, those are your friends! You chose to share your secrets with your roommates but not with me. Think about what that says about me, Liza. About us!”

  “I know…I should…” I stood there, trying to think of something to say that would make it all better, wishing there were some kind of time machine that would take me back a month. Or two. But there wasn’t. I knew that. There aren’t any do-overs.

  “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I was stupid. Really stupid.”

  “Ya think?” he said caustically. “How about sneaky? And selfish? And while you’re at it, why don’t you add—”

  “Hey! Knock it off!” I shouted. I could feel my cheeks flush with anger. “Remember what Reverend Tucker said about fighting fair. No put-downs and no name calling.”

  “Reverend Tucker? Since when do you care about anything he says? If you did, you’d have talked to me weeks ago.” He threw up his hands. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time….”

  He balled up his fists again, thumped one against his thigh, but not as hard as he had hit it against the door, as if he were giving up on fighting. Giving up on us.

  “I’ve gone out of my way to win your trust, to support you, to listen to you. But it’s no use. You don’t even try.”

  Now it was my turn to explode. “Listen to me? Hold on right there! You haven’t been listening to me. No one listens to me!”

  “What are you talking about?” Garrett gasped. “Ever since you got out of the hospital, nobody has done anything but listen to you! People have bent over backwards listening to you, asking your opinions on everything from what kind of music the band should play, to what kind of filling they should put between layers of the wedding cake, to—”

  “To where we should go on our honeymoon?” I asked.

  Garrett stopped short, stared at me.

  I let out a short, sharp laugh and shook my head. “In all this listening you and everybody have been doing, have you ever heard me say anything besides, ‘Yes. Great idea’? Or words to that effect? That’s my stock answer, Garrett. Nothing has changed. I just tell people what they want to hear.”

  “You said you wanted to go to Hawaii.”

  “No. I said I didn’t know where we should go. I told you that I don’t like making decisions. I told you that they terrify me. And they do.”

  My eyes started to fill again. I had to stop for a moment and catch my breath. Garrett was watching me so closely, listening so hard that I had to turn my head away.

  “I’m so afraid of getting it wrong, of making a choice I’ll live to regret. So I don’t. I don’t choose. I just let somebody else do it, like I did with the honeymoon. Or I wait until time makes the choice for me, like I did with the job. That way, if it all goes wrong, at least it isn’t my fault.”

  He was still mad, but his voice was softer. He wasn’t shouting anymore. “Liza, you could have told me. I’d have listened.”

  “But I did tell you. That night at the Café Carlyle, on the dance floor, remember? I told you that I didn’t like surprises, that I wasn’t ready. But you didn’t listen. You just got hurt and walked off. I told you I was afraid, but you never asked why, you just tried to talk me out of it. You didn’t listen, Garrett. I know you think you did, but you’re wrong.”

  Garrett’s fists opened. He lifted his chin, looked up at the ceiling, and exhaled a long, slow breath.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “What?” My stomach instantly clenched back into that familiar knot of fear. “Where are you going?” I reached out, tried to grab his arm, but he shook me off.

  “For a walk. I need to think about…things. I’ll be back.” He turned around and walked out the door.

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I followed him into the hall and watched as he walked down the stairs, diminishing inch by inch with each descending step until he disappeared.

  The apartment was empty. There was nothing to sit on. No books or magazines. No TV or radio. Nothing to distract me while I waited for Garrett to return. My footsteps made a lonely echo as I walked to the window and looked out to see Garrett on the street below. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his head was down as he walked away.

  When he disappeared around the corner, I turned my back to the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, my arms wrapped around my calves and my chin resting on my knees, waiting.

  There was a little pile of stuff sitting on the floor next to me, the final few things I’d gathered up before preparing to leave this apartment for good and drive back to New Bern and my new life with Garrett: my cell phone, my hairbrush—the good wooden one with natural bristles that I’d found again when we moved the dresser—a lime green mini stapler that I’d discovered in a kitchen drawer, my yearbook, and my diploma, the one they’d handed me yesterday, a million years ago, b
ack when it seemed like everything in my life had been settled. Now I didn’t know what was going to happen.

  Overhead, I could hear the sound of footsteps, of somebody playing a song by the Plain White T’s, of laughter and chair legs scraping against the floor.

  I picked up my diploma in its black leather case, flipped open the cover, and read the words inside.

  LIZA CHRISTINE BURGESS

  Is awarded this day, the degree of Bachelor of Fine Arts

  There it was, in black and white, with a gold seal and a signature to make it official. I was a college graduate, twenty-two years old, and I still didn’t know crap about anything that mattered.

  When the Wizard of Oz gave the Scarecrow his diploma, he was just blowing smoke. A diploma doesn’t make any difference. I was just as clueless today as I’d been the day before, maybe more.

  I closed the leather case, laid it on the floor, and reached for my cell phone. I’d call Abigail, or Margot, or Ivy, or Evelyn. Well, maybe not Evelyn. She was probably mad at me. But I had to talk to somebody, ask someone what I should do.

  I flipped my phone open and dialed the area code for New Bern, figuring that by the time I got that far, I’d know who to call. But my finger froze as I hit the fourth button.

  No. It was time to stop this, time to quit asking everybody else what I should think and do and feel. I have to grow up someday, start figuring out things for myself.

  After all, I have this diploma. It’s time.

  36

  Liza Burgess

  I heard footsteps on the stairs and I knew they were Garrett’s.

  I didn’t get up. I just sat on the floor, waiting. I’d left the door unlocked. He opened it and called me. “Liza?”

  He saw me sitting on the floor and smiled. He’d left his anger outside on the street, somewhere down the block and around the corner. His old face was back, the one I loved.

  “Hi.”

  He sat down opposite me with his legs crossed and took my hands in both of his, like we were playing one of those mind-reading games you played at parties when you were in junior high. Except this wasn’t a game. And I couldn’t read his mind.

  “Hi.”

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you. And I’m really sorry I didn’t listen. If it counts for anything, I thought I was. Guess I need more practice. I’m going to do better from here on out. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered, feeling a small swell of hope. If he was talking about how he was going to do things from here on out, then that must mean he thought we had a future together.

  “You know,” I said, “on the scale of who screwed up worse than who, my side of the seesaw is definitely the one bumping the ground. If anybody should be apologizing, it’s me. So here goes.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Garrett. I really am. I should have talked to you the second Professor Williams offered me the job. I should have been straight with you and trusted you about so many things. Maybe you didn’t listen as well as you could have, but I didn’t exactly make that easy for you. That was as much my fault as yours, probably more.”

  Being a Burgess, apologizing doesn’t come naturally to me. I had been looking at Garrett’s hands the whole time. But now I looked up at him from under my lashes.

  “And I’m sorry I yelled, too. That wasn’t fair. I wish I could promise I’ll never yell again, but I know how I am and—well, if I promised that, I’d be lying, so I won’t. But I promise I’ll try. And I’ll try to do a better job of talking things out and letting you know what I’m thinking and feeling. I know I can do better. From here on out, I will.”

  I waited.

  “Okay,” Garrett said simply.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Still holding my hands in his, he rocked forward and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

  The swell of relief became a flood. Everything was going to be okay. We were going to be okay. I couldn’t keep from grinning.

  “Hey! We just had our first fight—and lived through it. Pretty good, huh?”

  “Pretty good,” he said. “But I came awful close to punching a hole in your wall. For a minute I thought you were going to lose your deposit.”

  “You have amazing powers of self-control.”

  Now it was me who rocked forward to kiss him on the lips, but my kiss was not a quick one. I left my lips on his for a long time, opened them a little and then a little more, inviting his tongue to explore my mouth, extending mine into his, taking my time, running the tip of my tongue over the ridge of his perfect teeth before rising to my knees while putting my hands on his muscled arms, urging him to rise with me, wanting to feel the length of his body pressing against mine and know that all was forgiven and forgotten and that we would go on from here as though none of this had happened.

  But when I tried to pull him up to me, he pulled back, put his arms on my shoulders, and pushed me away. I was sitting back on the floor again, close to Garrett but not close enough, breathing heavily.

  “Whoa! Liza,” Garrett said from his side of the floor, taking in a deep whoosh of air and then letting it out quickly, as if trying to catch his breath.

  I frowned, feeling rejected and a little confused. “What? What’s the point of fighting if you don’t get to make up? That’s the best part.” I smiled, trying to tease him out of his serious mood, but it didn’t work.

  “But,” he said, “we’re not done fighting yet. I mean, we’re done fighting, at least for today. But there are still a lot of things we need to talk about, things we need to figure out. All right?”

  “All right,” I said, but I said it with a pout. Personally, I could think of a lot better things to do than fight or even talk about fighting. But I had just promised I would be better about talking things out, so I was pretty well stuck.

  Garrett scooted backward a little, increasing the distance between us by a couple of inches. Feeling chilled, I wrapped my arms protectively around my waist.

  “Liza, when I was out walking, I came up with about a million questions I wanted to ask you. But after a while I realized it really comes down to one, the question I should have asked in the first place. What do you want? Out of life, I mean. Tell me. This time, I promise I’ll listen.”

  I pressed my lips together. While Garrett was out walking, I’d prepared myself to answer any number of questions that might serve to explain my inexplicable behavior, but this wasn’t one of them. Twisting the diamond on my engagement ring from the front to the back of my hand and back again, I realized how much that said. It wasn’t the answers that explained me; it was the questions.

  I looked up. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe that’s the problem. Until five months ago, that question hadn’t even crossed my mind. And when it finally did, on the night you proposed, it caught me completely by surprise.”

  Garrett frowned, struggling and failing to understand how that was possible. “But you’ve always known you were going to graduate someday. Didn’t you ever stop to think about what came after?”

  “Not really. I know that sounds crazy, but it just seemed like everything would go on more or less like it always had. I would paint and live…somewhere.” I shrugged. “I never thought about my options after school because it never crossed my mind that I really had any options, you know? It isn’t like the Fortune 500 organizes recruiting fairs competing to snap up the most promising studio art majors. I figured I’d do what everyone else was going to do: find a job that would pay the bills so I could spend my free time painting. Knowing that I had a place to live and a job at the quilt shop waiting for me when I went back to New Bern made it even easier for me. I never had to think about my future. Not until New Year’s Eve.”

  Garrett raised his eyebrows. “When I ruined everything by asking you to marry me?”

  “Don’t say that. You didn’t ruin anything. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

  “And you don’t like surprises.” There was no question in his voice; it was a statement of fact. I didn
’t try to deny it.

  “Liza, I don’t understand. You really were caught by surprise? That night, with the flowers and the car, the dinner and dancing—you didn’t know I was going to propose?”

  I shook my head.

  “But didn’t you know how I felt about you?”

  “I knew you cared about me, even loved me, and I felt the same way about you, at least I thought I did….” I tipped my head back, resting it against the wall, and looked at the ceiling. When I lowered my head, Garrett was staring at me and his expression was blank, as though steeling himself for some terrible disappointment.

  I reached out and grabbed his hands. “Oh! Garrett, don’t look at me like that! I’m not saying I didn’t love you. I did love you! I do love you! But back then, I wasn’t thinking about love the same way you were. I wasn’t thinking love as in ‘love and marriage.’ I wasn’t not thinking about it, either. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was just living. Doing what I’d always done. Assuming everything would go on like it always had. Back then, if someone had asked me if I hoped you and I would get married, I’d have thought for a moment and said, ‘Well, yes. Sure. Someday.’ It never crossed my mind that you’d ask so soon. It just was so…so sudden. I wasn’t expecting it.

  “I felt like I’d been jolted awake in the middle of a dream. I didn’t quite know where I was or what I was doing there. Suddenly, I had to start thinking about my future, and it just terrified me!”

  Garrett was trying to keep his face neutral, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t really understand. How could I explain it to him?

  “One of the great things about painting is that if I don’t like how a canvas turns out, I can just paint over it and start again. Quilting is the same way. If the colors are ugly or the seams are crooked or the corners don’t meet, you can just rip out the stitches and take another run at it. But life isn’t like that. You’ve only got one chance to get it right. And that scares me, Garrett, because I want to get it right. I really do!”