Right?
I took another deep breath and opened my eyes, steeling myself to walk out the door. I had to be calm and rational. I had to be the one to keep a level head right now, since Matt seemed to be temporarily incapable of that. Sure, he was putting up a great front and giving the appearance of complete control, but it had to be just that a front. Underneath it all, he was probably just feeling the pressure of the countdown.
If we could just talk about this
I reached for the door handle and pulled it open, the weight suddenly seeming far greater than I remembered. As I made my way back to the table, I tried my best to gather my thoughts into some semblance of order, and to find any measure of composure possible.
And then, I lost it.
When I reached the table, I found it empty. Aside from the detritus of our shared meal, the only thing waiting for me in the dining room was a napkin, its white paper layers interrupted by a hastily scrawled message.
Im sorry.
Chapter Two
There seemed no explanation no reasonable, traceable steps showing how we got from two people so in love to this place.
To the napkin I held in my hand as I sat on the couch, three hours later.
Three very long, very tear-filled hours later.
There was a headache pressing now at the base of my skull, my penance to pay for allowing myself to finally fall apart once Id come home.
Id held a very tenuous grip on it all until then, managing to very carefully, very quietly ask the waiter for the bill, unsure of whether Matt might have had the decency to at least pay for our final meal together. To my relief, he had taken care of it, one last gesture of kindness tossed in my direction like another balled up napkin.
Id continued to hold on, feeling my grip losing strength, as I walked home, four miles that Matt had undoubtedly assumed would be travelled in a cab.
I had walked slowly, barely registering my surroundings as I took each step, trying to make some sort of reasonable sense of what had just taken place.
Not that any of this made any reasonable sense.
My fiancé had ended our relationship without a real explanation, leaving me nothing but a hastily scrawled apology on a napkin. It sounded almost like the headliner on one of those ridiculous, sensationalist afternoon talk shows. I wasnt sure whether to start laughing hysterically at the absurdity and outrageousness of the entire thing or to start crying.
My instincts suggested the latter action, but the tears burning my throat seemed to be warring with both shock and anger.
Had this been my fault? Had I pushed him too hard, put too much pressure on him to get married? Wed been together so long, and it had seemed like the next logical move. Logic aside, even it was something Id been dreaming of since the early stages of our relationship. I loved Matt so much, and there was nothing I wanted more than to share a life with him. To build a family and a home with him.
And now the whole thing was being torn apart, finalized by words on a napkin.
When had he stopped wanting a life with me?
When had my dream become a nightmare?
I couldnt stop staring at the napkin.
Im sorry.
I shifted on the couch, wondering if throwing the napkin in the fire with the nearly destroyed stack of magazines would reverse the words and set everything back to the way it was supposed to be. I looked at the sparkling engagement ring on my left hand and contemplated hurling it into the fireplace along with everything else. It would simply end up charred by the flames, sticky blackness masking the radiant beauty that it had once been.
The flicker of the fire gave the room a warm glow, but I still felt chilled. I pulled my legs up under me and reached for the throw I kept folded in a basket next to the couch. I was so tired and so cold, but I couldnt bring myself to go to bed.
Not yet. I knew I wasnt anywhere near sleep, not with everything that was going on in my head right now, despite my extreme fatigue. It wasnt physical exhaustion it was emotional. I felt as though someone had died, that same nebulous sense of loss and hopeless helplessness, and it was draining.
I put the square white napkin on the floor beside the couch and looked up at the ceiling as shadows danced over its surface, set in motion by the flicker of the firelight. I felt so alone, but there wasnt really anything I could do about that. Sure, I could call someone my mother or my sister, but the idea of having to pick up the phone and explain everything when I didnt even understand it myself seemed almost too much to handle. I couldnt string two coherent thoughts together at this point, much less an entire conversation.
I closed my eyes and tried to turn everything off, to feel nothing, to numb every part of my brain and my body and just float.
Float up to the ceiling and dance through the shadows.
Matt wasnt answering his phone. Id called twice, already, and I knew calling any more than that would do more harm than good. I couldnt let myself become that girl the needy, desperate girl who called every two minutes in tears. As much as I wanted and needed answers, I couldnt allow myself to do that.
I had to be stronger than that.
Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow everything would make more sense. To me, and to Matt. And I would be glad that Id kept silent and not alerted anyone to what was going on right now, at this moment. Because tomorrow, it would all be straightened out, and Matt would realize that we were meant to be together. Wed been so happy maybe he had just lost sight of that. Maybe it had been eclipsed by a momentary case of nerves.
All very normal. All very fixable.
Yes, that had to be it, I thought determinedly as I closed my eyes. We would talk and work it out, and everything would be back the way it was supposed to be. We would get married, and I would be Mrs Matthew Noble, and we would have our two-point-five children and a dog and a house with a white picket fence in the suburbs.
It would all be okay. It would all be just fine in the morning, in the cleansing light of day.
Matt just needed to remember how we got here, why we got here. Maybe he just needed to be reminded. Sometimes, in the happy glow of ease, pain is too easily forgotten. All the steps and the struggles that have shaped us become softened by time, and complacency blurs reality to make us believe that any new bump in the road is justification for surrender. As though we have been stripped of our fighting spirit. He needed to be reminded that we were too important to throw away on a whim.
On a napkin.
I shook off the fingers of doubt that were creeping back in, threatening to strangle the faith I was so desperately clinging to.
He would remember. Matt would remember.
Remember how we met, how we fell in love. How much we both wanted this life together.
Tomorrow, he would remember.
Chapter Three
February 2002
My mother always warned me to watch out for redheads, a voice behind me said. Theyre dangerous.
The words were hardly audible above the din of the darkened bar. Music rumbled in the background, competing for everyones attention against raucous laughter and a thousand different conversations all shifting shape under the neon glow of lighted beer signs.
The words were hardly audible above the din of the darkened bar. Music rumbled in the background, competing for everyones attention against raucous laughter and a thousand different conversations all shifting shape under the neon glow of lighted beer signs.
I turned from my table companion to see who was speaking and came face to face with the man I wanted to marry. It was that simple and that complicated.
Of course, it wasnt something I knew right then, in those first moments. Nothing I could have known, and, I think, nothing I would have believed if someone had told me. In those moments, it was simply a meeting between two strangers, a smile exchanged, witty banter volleyed like a tennis ball.
Are we now, I said, taking the bait and feeling a stupid smile slip beyond my control to light up my face. Light it up and set it on fire.
All under my flame-colored hair.
Luckily, the handsome face returned my smile, revealing perfect, white teeth. He had a slightly crooked nose, long and narrow, set between eyes the color of melted dark chocolate.
Very. Hot tempers and all that, he drawled.
Ah. And here I thought we were just horribly blush-prone. No matter that the red hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of my neck was compliments of LOréal rather than genetics. Most people assumed that it was natural, given my coloring and the authenticity of the shade, and I felt no need to give a perfect stranger such insight into my beauty habits. A lady has to have some secrets, after all.
Well, I wasnt going to mention it, but your face does sort of match your hair. The more he spoke, the more I wanted him to say. He seemed magical.
You sure do know how to charm a lady, dont you? I said, still blushing profusely and smiling so hard my face hurt. It seemed impossible to stop either one, even though I would have given my right arm at that moment to be able to return my face to a normal shade.
Its a God-given gift, what can I say? he laughed, running long fingers over a small patch of the stubble that shadowed his jaw.
One of many, Im sure. Id finally managed to lower the wattage of my smile, but I was betting I was still pretty red.
Definitely. And I can build a Lego castle like nobodys business.
I leaned closer, crooking my finger at him so that he would bend down. I wouldnt advertise that, I whispered.
Noted, he whispered back, smiling broadly. His eyes were warm and seemed to dance under the overhead lights. Does that mean youre not impressed by Lego? he asked, straightening and pulling a chair up next to mine. His gaze flickered over to my table mates, and he flashed a small smile at them. Sorry Im late, guys, traffic was a nightmare.
Surprise must have registered on my face, because the smile broadened when he looked back at me.
I guess Im going to have to do the honors, since this bunch seem to be inept at introductions. He leaned forward in the chair he was now occupying and extended his hand. Im Matt.
I grasped his proffered hand, realizing that I hadnt yet recovered from my initial shock at his joining us.
Eira, I stammered back.
His grip was cool and strong, the size of his hand making my own seem small and delicate by comparison. A look of confused interest flashed through his eyes and tugged at the corners of his mouth before the question passed from his brain to his lips.
Sorry?
This was definitely not a new response to my name.
Eira, I repeated. I smiled patiently, realizing that he was probably embarrassed at his reaction. Eira, I said one more time, just to make sure he caught it above the ambient noise of the bar. E-I-R-A. It rhymes with Tyra.
Is that short for something?
No, actually. Full name. I reclaimed my hand reluctantly, feeling a little silly to notice that neither of us had let go. Its Norse for help or mercy. And, yes, its a real name, I said, absently smoothing a wrinkle from the lap of my jeans.
Well, Eira, it sounds to me like youve gotten more than your fair share of crap over your name, Matt said sheepishly.
I cocked my head and smiled with the slightest trace of acidity.
It shows, then, does it?
He held up his hand, thumb and index fingertips spaced millimeters apart. Tiny bit. He grinned and dropped his hand into his lap.
So tell me. How do you know this lot? he asked, indicating the group around us, all of whom now seemed completely unconcerned with our presence.
I was just about to ask the same of you, I replied, arching an eyebrow. But since you asked first, I guess Ill have to wait. I reached for the seltzer water in front of me, rolling the skinny red stirring straw between my fingertips as I formulated my reply.
You want the short story or the long one?
Ill take the Readers Digest condensed version for now, he answered, his eyes leaving my face long enough to catch the attention of our waitress. She gathered her round plastic tray from the corner of the bar where shed been holding post and began to weave her way through the packed tables dotting the room.
I held my answer until shed left us to retrieve Matts requested bottle of beer.
Lets just say we all met through a mutual acquaintance, and I got custody of the friends in the divorce. I lifted a shoulder and pressed my lips together in a rueful smile.
Matt widened his eyes. Ah.
I realized my cryptic answer was a little too cryptic and left too much to speculation. Not that there was an actual divorce, I said hurriedly. Or even a marriage, I continued, growing more and more flustered by the second.
And redder.
Lets not forget redder.
I think we should keep all the paper in the place away from you, or youre liable to start a fire. Matt chuckled, enjoying my embarrassment entirely too much.
Oh, shut up, I muttered, glaring at him good-naturedly.
Wow. Five minutes Ive known her, and already shes telling me to shut up, he said in mock injury. Feisty spirits to match the hair. He was smiling crookedly at me, so I knew he wasnt serious.