14. Travis
Idon’t deserve your forgiveness, I thought to myself as Barbara hugged me.
I really didn’t. I tried to explain that to her, but the damned woman never listened to me. Even after all these years, she had not learned how to listen. I chuckled with her head on my shoulder as I remembered the first time I saw her.
It was back in college. I was a junior, while she was a freshman. Some football star on a scholarship had jumped the line at the admissions office and she was the only person to say anything about it. At 5’8”, she wasn’t a short woman. The guy, however, was at least 6’6” and looked like he weighed 250 pounds.
He was the star linebacker on the football team, and a projected top twenty pick in the NFL draft. This guy was built like a tank, fierce, with his blockhead football friends in their letterman jackets behind him. Barbara had clutched her books to her chest and pointed to the back of the line for them to return there.
Things had heated up. The athletes felt insulted, but Barbara nipped it in the bud by calling none other than the Dean of Admissions. I remember how amusing it was that she casually had the Dean of Admissions on speed dial. I later learned that all three boys had to make a public apology to her to retain their scholarships.
The first thing I said when I spoke to her that day was, “I’m sorry I didn”t step up behind you.” She laughed and shrugged it off, and we became close and stayed so until we graduated. We dated and got engaged, then I ran away, giving no reason for bailing out on her. And yet, she forgave me.
It was her air of quiet competence and inner strength that had drawn me to her in the first place. Even now she seemed to know far more than she let on, her intelligence dancing behind her bright eyes.
“Well,” Barbara said, breaking off the hug. “I should return before my husband realizes I’m missing.” She grinned broadly and winked at me.
“Burn,” I hissed jokingly. “Do you have to rub it in my face?”
“Yep,” she said, getting up. “See you inside?”
“Sure,” I replied. “I just need a minute alone.”
She nodded and glided away, as graceful as ever. I rolled the diamond ring in my fingers. I really hadn’t expected Barbara to keep the ring. She kept doing things that amazed me, just for the sake of it. It was a beautiful ring. I really wished she’d kept it or at least pawned it. I did not feel comfortable taking it back from her.
The ring, not the wedding invitation, was the final piece that told me I had lost her for good. I had no idea how I felt about that. I reflected one last time on how great things were with her. She was the only woman I ever allowed myself to get close to. The only woman I could ever say that I loved. That was gone now and looking back at the relationship held nothing for me but pain.
Although I was lying to myself. She was not the only woman. Painful as it was for me to admit, there was another.
Emily.
There was no denying how insane I was about her. It was different than it had been with Barbara—to be frank, I’d never been so uncontrollably sensually crazy for her. I tried to push away the thought as quickly as it entered my head but decided that there was no gain in self-deceit.
It was no use denying how she made me feel. I rarely formed deep connections with women, but somehow with Emily there was much more than a physical relationship between us. It was as though she had seen into my soul that first night we had dinner, and I had seen into hers. And I liked what I saw.
While I had mixed emotions over Barbara getting married, that reaction wouldn’t have been as intense if I hadn’t met Emily. It was my conflicted feelings for Emily that compelled me to attend Barbara’s wedding. She had been living rent-free in my head for days, and I needed to confront the ghosts of girlfriend’s past if I was to have anything with Emily.
You can’t.After our first one-night stand, that had seemed a certainty. But our second rendezvous—and her willingness to be with me again, however briefly—gave me a spark of hope.
I was relieved to know that Barbara forgave me. Leaving her the way I did was shitty, and I had come to terms with that. While I needed to leave her when I did to deal with my own demons, it still felt like a lackluster excuse to give to a wonderful woman who had tried to love me the best way she knew how.
I took a few moments to compose myself before stepping out of the hedge in Barbara’s wake. I approached the reception party and saw that it was time for group pictures. Barbara waved me over to join up, and I smiled in return. I stood at the side of the group and flashed my best magazine smile for the photographer.
I looked at him closer and frowned. Standing beside him was none other than Emily.
Huh? What the hell is she doing here and what does she know about photography?
I held on to the smile as the camera flashed, a smile that spread over my lips but did not touch my eyes. A few poses later, the group broke off and I stood in a corner to watch Emily.
She and the photographer seemed tight, accustomed to each other, as they conversed and moved through the garden together. She also appeared down, like there was something heavy bothering her. The photographer touched her on the cheek, tilting his head towards her to seemingly ask her if she was alright.
From where I stood, the gesture seemed entirely too personal. Hot anger flared inside me as I watched the pair. What in heaven’s name is going on there? My anger burned from red hot to bright white as I followed them around the garden with my eyes.
I had no reason to feel anger concerning Emily or what she chose to do in her private time. We barely knew each other, and I hadn’t even thought to ask if she had a boyfriend. But as illogical as my rage was, it coursed through my veins like boiling liquid.
Who the hell was that guy, and why did he feel so comfortable touching Emily?
Having seen enough, I walked over to the two of them without hesitation. It seemed best to find out once and for all what was going on here, saving myself the pain of discovering later.
I bobbed through the crowd towards the pair, making sure to approach from behind so Emily would not see me.
“Hello,” I said in a harsh tone from behind her. She turned and jumped a little. “Fancy seeing you here.”
The photographer shot me a glance, frowning, then stepped away to take pictures of a dancing couple. I grabbed Emily’s arm and tried to pull her away from the gathering.
“Travis… let go of me,” she said in a warning tone, hesitating. I glanced around first, then looked down at her.
“Do you really want to create a scene right now? At someone’s wedding?” I asked quietly. “Is that what you want?”
It was Emily’s turn to look around, and then she shook her head. Her eyes looked cold and angry, and I wondered what had gotten her upset.
Well, she wasn’t the only one who was angry, and she had some explaining to do. I led her away from the wedding towards a foot bridge that crossed a small brook.
There was a stone bench across the bridge, and we sat there, the air around us feeling combustible.
“I have one question,” I said without any preamble. “Is that your boyfriend?”
Emily turned on me with a face so hard, it could boil rock and curdle blood. Her anger was so intense, it took every bit of my strength to resist the urge to back away. “What do you care?” she asked finally. “It’s not like we owe each other explanations.”
“Well since we’ve been in between each other’s thighs, I think we do.” I held her angry gaze as I spoke. “I will have you know that I do not like people who practice infidelity in relationships.”
“Ah,” she said, leaning back. “Choosing the moral high ground, are you? Apparently, I’m not the only one with questionable relationships.”
Touching the base of my neck I looked at her confused, “What are you talking about?”
She smirked. “I am not the one exchanging rings with other people.”
She wasn’t making any sense. “Huh? Exchanging rings? “What are you going on ab—” And then it hit me. Somehow, and I had no idea how, she’d seen Barbara returning her ring to me. The proof of her accusation was in the breast pocket of my tuxedo.
“Look, I don’t know what you thought you saw, but I wasn’t exchanging anything,” I said defensively. “She was returning the ring to me.”
Her gaze faltered for a moment as she ponders whether or not I could actually be telling the truth.
“Don’t change the topic Emily. Who is he to you?” My voice rang a little too strongly in my ears and I realized how loudly we’d been arguing when she nearly flinched, taking another look around.
I sighed deeply and held her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. Please tell me. Who is he to you?
“He’s just a friend,” Emily said in a low grating voice, breaking her gaze. “He’s not my boyfriend. I only came here to help him with a last-minute gig. There. Are you happy now?”
Despite how salty she sounded, I felt extremely relieved to hear that. The realization that I felt that relief struck me like a lightning bolt.
I really like Emily. I’d known it before in theory, but this conversation made it real somehow.
“Your turn,” Emily said, nodding toward the music and lights. “Who is she?” Her voice still sounded angry, but it was softer than it had been moments before.
I turned towards the reception, gathering my thoughts. “Barbara…” I muttered. “We were engaged to be married several years ago, but things didn’t work out, and I never got to take the ring from her. She was only returning the ring to me after all these years. There’s nothing there. It was more of a parting gift than anything, really.”
Emily sat silently, her gaze drifting off to a distant point as if lost in thought. I appreciated the quiet, a respite from our earlier tension. Then, almost hesitantly, she asked, “Do you still love her?”
I looked at her and saw how upset she was. Did I still love Barbara? I thought about her question and found myself feeling terrified by what I found.
“No,” And I meant it.
A new woman had taken over my heart.