25. Sylvan
25
SYLVAN
I stayed up for hours mulling over everything I could have said to make Irving stay. The truth was, he was going to leave me no matter what words I used, magic as they might have seemed now that he was gone.
I gave up on sleep after tossing and turning for the better part of the night, my brain refusing to give in to the sweet relief of unconsciousness. After a while, the frogs ceased their croaking and the birds came out, chirping merrily outside the open window.
“Must you rub it in?” I asked them, turning onto my side and pressing my pillow over my exposed ear. “Not everyone can be as cheerful as you are all the time.”
I had to get up or else I would spend the entire day stuck in bed, so I spent the morning reading my book, which was due to be returned today. I couldn’t bear to work on my most recent painting just yet, and I needed a visit with my cousin sooner rather than later anyway.
I flipped the pages in a trance, devouring each word like it was the most important thing I would read today. The beautiful thing about romance books was that they always ended with a happily ever after for the lovestruck couple, unlike in real life.
“Irving and I could have done with a romance written out for us,” I mumbled, glancing up from the page to look outside.
I wanted to see Irving on the porch. I dreamed of seeing him standing there, adjusting his tie, smoothing out his gray suit jacket, or wiping fresh raindrops from his glasses. Irving was gone, though, and he wouldn’t come back. He told me as much, and that man didn’t lie.
I expected to feel some sense of satisfaction when I finished my book, but as I closed it and set it on the coffee table, all I felt was a sort of longing for something more.
“They got together in the end,” I mumbled. “They persevered through it all and made it to the other side stronger. If only that would have worked for Irving and me.”
I sighed and, with book in hand, I stepped out onto the porch and began the long walk to the library, not stopping to think until I stepped inside the warm, inviting building and met my cousin’s gaze.
“What’s wrong?” they asked, stepping out from behind the front desk. They rushed over to me, wrapping their arms around me in a hug that I very much needed right now.
“We broke up,” I mumbled.
They pulled away, narrowing their eyes. “Is it real this time? You didn’t have one of your little arguments, did you?”
I shook my head. “This time is real. Something happened that made him change his mind about me – he seems to think he knows the true me now, whatever that means.”
My cousin led me back behind the desk and made me sit down in their chair. They knelt beside it, their elbows on one of the arms. “Tell me what he found out. He already knows about your college…experience, so it can’t be that.”
“No, it’s worse.”
“What, did you murder someone? Because if that’s the case, I wasn’t aware of it either.” They chuckled, but when I didn’t respond, their smile faded and they slumped back onto the floor. “I’m sorry, Sylvie. I’m not trying to make you feel worse.”
“You’re not,” I said quietly, slumping back in the chair. “I just don’t know how I can move on from this. I loved him, you know. I really thought he was the one.”
My cousin sighed. “Well, so did I, to be fair. Now, tell me, what exactly happened between the two of you? I might still be able to help.”
I shook my head and sniffled. “It’s too late for that. Anyway, this all happened over a couple of photos.”
“Of you?”
“And someone else.”
“From recently?” My cousin’s eyes widened.
“No, of course not.” I sat up straighter, my spine stiffening. “Don’t be ridiculous, cousin. I would never cheat on someone. No, these photos are from years ago, back when my friend was putting together that erotic art book. I offered to let them take some photos of me and my, at the time, boyfriend. It was nothing more than a little youthful fun, but Irving doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as me being something – or someone – that’s incompatible with him.”
My cousin nodded slowly, taking it all in. “I see,” they said simply. “Well, that does complicate things, doesn’t it?”
“It’s done more than complicate things. Oh, cousin, if I ever thought there was any chance that those photos would break up one of my relationships later on, I swear I wouldn’t have taken them. They’re not worth it.”
“You should tell Irving that – explain exactly how you’re feeling yourself.”
“I already did. Trust me, he’s made up his mind. He’s good at that, as it turns out.” I let out a long, shaky exhale, turning my book over in my hands. “I even had another present for him, but I can’t give it to him now. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Another painting?”
“Yes, it was another painting – of us, not just him this time.”
My cousin shrugged. “Perhaps someday, when the sting from breaking up is gone, you can bring it to his home as a gift from a friend. And if not, you can keep it yourself as a reminder of the wonderful man you once met.”
I looked up, the distant corner of the library suddenly beckoning to my eyes. Visions of Irving and me danced around in my head, almost taunting me. I looked back at my cousin, who watched me worriedly.
“The sting will never go away,” I told them, “but thank you for the uplifting words, cousin. I think that at some point, it’s best to move on.”
“Well, when you’re ready to look for a new match, come back and I shall help you. But do take your time, Sylvie. I don’t want you rushing into another relationship simply to get away from Irving.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
My cousin was right: sometime in the future, I would be ready to face Irving again. It wouldn’t be today, or next week, or maybe even next month. But the day would come, and maybe then I could finally get some closure.