Marriage Mistake

by Lively, R. S.

  But she wasn't happy to see me.

  That's an understatement. Emma looked at me like she would happily use me as the jack to raise up her car, then mold me into whatever part of the engine might be broken. The look in her wide blue eyes is all the confirmation I need that I hurt her just as much as I thought I had, and that she hasn't let go. It's obvious that among all the plans she might have had for her return to Magnolia Falls, seeing me again wasn't part of any of them. I knew she had gotten married. Even when you don't live right on the island, it's difficult to escape news about the people you grew up with. When everyone who lives in town could easily fit in half of a minor league sports stadium, and still have plenty of seats left over, it's easy to feel like everybody else's business is your business, too. Over the years, I had never sought out any information about Emma. I didn't want to hear about her. It was too hard to think about what might have happened if my decision had been different. I'll never be able to say I didn't second guess myself that day. I'd like to look back on that decision and say I was completely confident in it, and knew it was the right thing to do. But that wouldn't be true. Somewhere deep inside me, I know I did the right thing that day, but it doesn't change how hard it was to say those words, or that by the time I was walking back down the sidewalk I was already regretting saying goodbye.

  I had tried to avoid following what was happening in her life purely out of selfish desire to not know. I didn't want to think about her out in the world living a life that had absolutely nothing to do with me, even though I was doing the same. In a way, it felt like if I just didn't hear about her, I could somehow pretend she was still off in college. I could pretend that there was still that possibility of us finding each other again after she graduated. Instead, I had to hear about her upcoming wedding, and how excited everyone was about the event. It was thrilling and exotic for someone from Magnolia Falls to plan their wedding off of the island, especially one of the women raised here. Most of the time girls buying their prom dresses at Alexander's Gownstravaganza are already eyeing the bridal gowns. I've even known a few to choose their wedding date well before they get engaged, some even before they start dating anyone, just so they can lock down a coveted venue and know they won't have to compete when the time really does come.

  Instead, Emma planned her wedding far away from Magnolia Falls, and even North Carolina. The majority of the people she invited weren't able to make the trip to the wedding. If they had, it would have looked like a hurricane evacuation had hit the island. After that, stories about her faded, and I didn't hear much about Emma for a few years until mutterings about a divorce started making the rounds through the village. I never heard any story about it, or any explanation. All I knew, was that her marriage was over, but that she hadn't come home. I still don't know what happened between her and her husband, but there was something in her face today that said she is tired. Life has gotten to her, and making the decision to finally head home isn't necessarily a relief, but just one more thing to pile on top of her.

  The first thing I do when I get back to my house is unpack. Emma hadn't seen the black duffle bag in the trunk when she piled her stuff into my backseat. The only reason I was there on the road to see Emma stranded in the rain was because I was coming back from picking up a few more things from home, and letting the office know where I would be. Just like I told Leon, I only plan on being here in Magnolia Falls for the next few days before I head back to the office. Suddenly, though, knowing I'll be back in time for Homecoming is even more appealing. I've never been the type of person to try something just once, and then give up, and seeing Emma Barlow today told me I haven't had enough of her, yet.

  That afternoon, I arrange a conference call with my four brothers. I'm actually surprised when all of them are able to answer at the same time. With the five of us scattered across the country, it's hard to coordinate a time to speak to each other on the first try. I fill them all in on Mrs. Burke's request, first swearing them to secrecy. I figure her calling me from the closet justified a confidentiality clause. Just as I expected he would, Dean immediately has a long list of ideas and visions for the event. Soon, the other three start adding in their own perspectives. I quickly turn down Seth's recommendation that we commission a fleet of period military aircraft to do a flyover during the dance, but take notes of a few of the others. My brothers agree to be on standby for me while I do the planning, ready to offer their expertise as I need it, and give any input I might need. I'm still so early in the planning stages I'm not sure what I might need any of them for, but it's good to know they are willing to help if I do come up with something.

  One by one, the other guys drop out of the call. First Seth, because he has to convince a client skydiving naked is not a good idea for a variety of reasons, but that he can arrange for other nude extreme sports if he signs an extremely extensive waiver. Then Archer, who is tending to a baby boom on his ranch as he waits for three of his horses, two cows, and his dog to all give birth any time. Then Preston, who mumbles something about marketing and a board meeting, but promises he'll get in touch if he has any brilliant ideas. Finally, it's just me and Dean left on the line.

  There was a time when I wasn't sure all five of us would be together on this endeavor. It would have been so much easier to just fit into the slot at the family company carved out for each of us when we were just babies. Not that any of us needed the job security when we left college. The money we had already inherited from our grandfather, grandmother, and great-uncle was already more than enough to sustain us, especially with a job at the company.

  But I didn't want that life. I wanted something more than just a guarantee, and someone else's legacy to pass on if there was ever anyone to pass it on to. There was never a point when I didn't have the urge in me to build something for myself, and once I got the inspiration for DreamMakers, Inc., nothing was going to stop me. Even if my brothers hadn't agreed to join me, I would have done it on my own. Them joining me has just made the experience better, and the company as a whole stronger. We still have the Laurence name, but we aren't living in the shadow of the success of our family anymore. Our success is ours, our power is ours, and our wealth is ours. Pursuing this success, though, has spread us out, and we don't get together with each other, or with our parents, nearly as often as we used to. The more expansive and successful the company becomes, the longer the stretches between us getting together get, and there are times when I definitely feel the absence of my brothers in my life.

  Of the four of my brothers, Dean is the one who stayed the closest geographically. It was no surprise to anyone when he decided to move to New York after college. He thrives on energy and creativity, and I knew he would go where there was always more of both waiting for him. If there was ever a time when he decided to walk away from the business, he wouldn't stop. He'd sink right into the world of lights and performance, and be just as at home. But I know he loves the work he does with his clients. If there is someone who has always dreamed of being on the stage, or wants to feel like a part of something bigger, something incredible, Dean is the one to talk to. He can make things happen others couldn't even imagine. This also tends to get him in trouble, and more often than not I'm the one who has to figure out how to get them out of it.

  "Is there something else on your mind?" he asks.

  I hesitate mentioning Emma to him. He's the one who knew her better than anyone when they were in high school, but they had fallen out of touch when he left for college. He was also the only one of my brothers I told about the day two weeks I spent with her before she went to college, and he had made it clear what he thought about me pursuing her.

  "I saw Emma today," I finally say.

  "Emma Barlow?" he asks, as if there might be some other girl we both knew with the same name.

  "Yes," I say. "She moved back."

  "And you just conveniently found that out?" he asks.

  "Actually, it was very conveniently," I say, feeling defensive. "She was st
randed by the side of the road, and I found her. In the rain."

  "Of course, it was in the rain. Why wouldn't it be?"

  "Never mind," I say. "I'll talk to you at Homecoming."

  "Grant, you know what you did to her."

  "You agreed with me," I point out. "You told me I needed to let her go."

  "And you still do. You two aren't right for each other. You weren't then, and you definitely aren't now. She's been through a lot the last few years. She doesn't need more. Besides, it's not even Emma you're thinking about. It's the idea of her. In your mind, she's still that unattainable girl. But that's not really her. Remember, she could have gotten in touch with you at any time. It's not like you are reclusive. She decided things weren't going to happen. What she put herself through to get out of Magnolia Falls and find her own life, she deserved to do it without anything or anyone standing in her way."

  "Well, don't worry. There was no heartfelt reunion. She wasn't happy to see me. She didn't even ask why I was there."

  "Does she know how long you'll be there? Or that you're coming back?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Good. Focus on what you're supposed to be doing. You've got clients expecting services for you, and you need to hold up your end of it. I've got to go. I have a guy scaling a building in half an hour, and I need to make sure all of the landing cushions are in place."

  "Thanks for the ideas about the prom," I say.

  "Of course. Let me know if you need any other help. I'll see you in a few weeks."

  "See you, brother."

  I hang up and toss my phone onto the table in front of me, letting out a long breath. The pages I copied from the book in the library are spread out across the table, and I try to focus on them, hoping an idea will burst into my mind. Instead, all I can think of is Emma.

  * * *

  Emma

  Two weeks later…

  "You're going to be late for your first day of school!"

  My mother rushes into the kitchen wearing a pink bathrobe, and an expression of horror on her face. I'm still sitting at the kitchen table scooping spoonfuls of oatmeal into my mouth with one hand, and holding the local newspaper in the other.

  "I'm not going to be late," I say. "I know how to get to the high school in time. This isn't my first day of freshman year."

  Mom scurries around the room in the same way I remember her doing on the rare mornings she was still home when it was time for me to get ready for school. Usually, the mornings played out pretty much like this morning. Except I wasn't wearing what I hoped was a dress appropriate enough for teaching, and reading the Magnolia Magpie. Usually, I was wearing whatever I threw on that morning before the sun came up, and studying for the next test, or putting finishing touches on extra credit projects until the very last minute, when I would shove everything into my bag and rush off to school. At least this time I'm actually eating something that resembles a healthy breakfast. Back then, she was lucky if she could toss a piece of toast into my hand as I was running out the front door. On the days when she needed to be gone for work early, she'd leave me a plate of toaster pastries, or biscuits from the night before with a jar of jam.

  I know she's worried about me. Today is the first day of the school year. I've gone to the school a few times for orientation, and to get myself used to the hallways and placements of the classrooms again, it's completely different when there are actually students roaming around with you. I had a nightmare last night that I walked into the classroom and was expected to teach a class in trigonometry. I don't even think I accurately remember what trigonometry is, and my dream self wasn't any more helpful. I woke up in a cold sweat, still hearing the mocking voices of my students in my head. I wonder if this is the teacher equivalent of students dreaming they've walked into a class naked, or have to do a presentation on a topic they've never heard of before. I never had any of those nightmares when I was actually in school. Maybe my brain was just too busy and full then to think about anything like that. Now it's getting back at me.

  Despite the nightmare, I am actually excited to get started with the school year. To be completely honest, teaching wasn't ever something I actually thought I was going to do. I tacked it on to my first stint through college as a second major because I always wanted to give myself that extra safety net. I figured being able to get certification as a teacher gave me a marketable back-up plan in the event everything else completely fell apart. It was one of those things teenagers heading into their freshman year of college do to make themselves feel mature and responsible. I never actually thought it was going to be necessary in my life. In between quitting my job at Wyatt's behest, and my divorce becoming finalized, all career opportunities in my chosen field seem to have dried up. I couldn't find anything that made me feel financially stable, much less was fulfilling. That's when I decided to refresh my education, and get my teaching credentials. The only experience with teaching I've had is as an assistant during my last year of classes, and I actually found myself looking forward to having my own class. The first class I teach will be of freshmen, so it will almost feel like we are starting out on this whole new experience together.

  No way in hell I'm telling them that, though. I remember high school. They will eat me alive.

  "What's in the newspaper this morning?" Mom asks, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

  "I don't really know," I say, checking the time and shoveling my oatmeal a little faster.

  "You're reading it right now," she points out.

  "I'm reading the real estate listing," I say.

  "Real estate listings?" she asks.

  I look up at her, and see her struggling not to look disappointed.

  "I told you I was only staying here at the house temporarily," I say. "I don't know how long I'm going to be in Magnolia Falls, but it's going to be at least through the school year, and I need my own space. You don't want me around here, anyway. I'll just leave crumbs on things, and miss the hamper with my socks."

  She nods, forcing a small smile.

  "I know you need your own space," she says. "You're an adult. It's just nice having you around."

  "I know," I say.

  "So, is there anything?"

  I let out a sigh, and look back down at the newspaper as if I think something else is going to spontaneously appear on the page.

  "Not really," I say. "A couple of places are for sale, but they're the big, old houses. Not only do I not need that much space, but there's no way I could afford to buy something right now. I really need to find somebody renting."

  "You know that's not going to be easy," she says. "I haven't seen anything for rent around here in probably two or three years. People just don't come and go. Your best bet is usually to have someone die, and even then, the house either gets inherited by the next married couple in the family, or if there's no one left, it gets put up for sale."

  "Well, that was cheerful."

  "I'm sorry. You'll find something."

  I check the time again, and realize I've pushed it too close. I had wanted to walk to school the way I always did, but I won't make it now.

  "Can I borrow your car?" I ask.

  "Take Daddy's," she says. "I know he'd like to be there with you today."

  There's still sadness in her voice even all these years after his death. That's something I think will always be with her. I never really understood that before. I knew of people whose spouses who died, and years later they were still alone. I always wondered why they hadn't tried to find love again. Then my father died, and instantly I understood. My mother doesn't need to find love again, because she still has it. It never went away. There may come a day when she finds someone to be her companion, and to keep her company as she continues to live her life, but it will never be a love that will replace my father.

  "Thanks. I'll see you when I get home."

  "I work this afternoon, so I might not be home until around six."

  "I'll start something for dinner."r />
  "Oh, no, don't do that. It's your first day."

  "Then I'll pick up something for dinner. I have to go." I kiss her on the top of the head. "Bye."

  Grabbing my bag from the floor, and scooping the keys out of a bowl made out of a large shell sitting on the side table, I run out of the house, and around the corner toward where my father's car is parked. I've used it a few times since being back, since my car is still hunkering sad and broken in the back corner of the driveway.

  Or should be.

  Where the fuck is my car?

  I don't have time to go back inside, so I jump into my father's car and fish my phone out of my bag as I'm driving down the street.

  "Is something wrong?" Mom answers.

  Nothing like an optimist.

  "What kind of way is that answer the phone?" I ask.

  "Sorry," she says. "It's just that you just walked out of the house. Everything's fine?"

  "No, something's wrong."

  "Which is exactly why I answer the phone like that. What happened?"

  "Do you know what happened to my car?"

  "Your car? It broke down. Two weeks ago."