3. June
By the time I find a parking spot at the arena, my nerves are fried. Thanks to my detour to the dry cleaner, I didn’t have time to go home and change. But luckily, I always carry a bag with essentials in my purse. In the parking lot, I do my makeup, spray dry shampoo in my hair, and reapply deodorant and perfume. Then I pop a mint in my mouth and head out. Bill already texted me asking where I am. I have the tickets on my phone.
I find him pacing in front of the entrance with his phone glued to his ear. He’s in his work clothes as well, but he ditched his jacket and tie, and his dark hair is messier than usual as if he ran his fingers through it. He still looks better than me, a fact that’s obvious when he gives me an overall glance, tightens his lips, and narrows his brown eyes.
“I have to call you back,” he tells whoever is on the other end of the line.
What I’m wearing isn’t terrible. It’s a cute A-line dress with a constellation print, but it has several marker stains on the front. I didn’t think they were noticeable, but judging from the way Bill is glowering, maybe they are. He hates messy stuff.
“What the hell do you have on?”
Pulling my best Cher from Clueless impression, I reply, “A dress.”
“You’re wearing the Boston Zodiacs’ colors.”
I look down, noticing the purple, blue, and black colors. Ah hell. I actually am. “It wasn’t intentional. I planned to stop by the apartment to change.”
His scowl doesn’t go away. “Why didn’t you, then?”
Is he seriously asking me that?“You asked me to pick up your dry cleaning, remember?”
“So it’s my fault now?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can we not fight over this? So what if I’m wearing the Zodiacs’ colors? It isn’t like I’m wearing their jersey.”
“Might as well be,” he retorts. “Let’s go in. I’ll buy you a Titans shirt to cover that atrocity.”
He walks ahead, expecting me to follow. I’m so angry that I could cry. So much for not aggravating Bill tonight. Maybe I should call the whole thing off, but that would mean losing the money I paid for the Jumbotron time. It’s nonrefundable.
Maybe Bill will calm down once I cover my offensive dress and he gets food in his belly. He’s always cranky when he’s hungry.
The place is buzzing with euphoric energy. I don’t come to hockey games often, but I always feel invigorated when I do. There’s so much positivity around us, I wish it would affect Bill. He doesn’t say much on the way to the gift shop, but his mood is much better after he eats two hotdogs and has a beer in hand. He even cracks a smile at a random text.
I narrow my eyes. “Who’s that?”
“The office group chat. Someone made a joke.” He tosses his arm over my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s find our seats. The game is about to start.”
My Jumbotron slot is during the break after the first period. Suffice it to say, I haven’t paid any attention to the game. There’s less than a minute left on the clock, and neither team has scored. Our seats are in the middle of the last row of section one, giving us a perfect view of the ice. Bill has yelled so much that his voice is almost gone.
The buzzer sounds, and the players head to the locker room. My pulse skyrockets, and my hands are clammy. I might throw up.
Bill begins to stand, but I stop him. “Where are you going?”
“I need to pee and get another beer.”
Shit. I didn’t anticipate that. I’m such an idiot.
“Wait a second. They’re doing a giveaway on the Jumbotron, and I don’t want to miss it.”
His brows furrow. “Stay then.”
“It’s for couples only.”
“June, come on... don’t tell me it’s a kiss-cam thing.”
“It isn’t. Just wait a few minutes. Please?”
He sits down again. “Fine.”
Another minute ticks by, but it seems like an eternity. I’m on pins and needles when the camera finally points at us.
“Holy shit! It’s us!” Bill exclaims, then waves at the camera.
I take a deep breath, then grab his hands, making him look at me. “Bill, we’ve been together for a long time and survived so many obstacles that I can’t even count them anymore. But through all the curveballs life has thrown us, we persevered, and our love has grown stronger. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
He narrows his eyes. “June, what are you doing?”
I take a small box from my purse and open it, revealing the engagement ring I got for him. It’s a simple white gold band.
My heart is beating so fast, I can almost hear it. “William Patrick Richardson, will you marry me?”
The entire arena seems to grow quiet as they wait for Bill’s answer. I expect him to curl his lips into a slow smile and say a resounding yes right away, but as his silence stretches and his face becomes paler, a horrible feeling makes my heart shrivel in my chest.
“June... I can’t marry you.”
My pulse is thundering in my ears, and my face is hot as lava. “What?”
“I can’t marry you. I’m in love with someone else.”
I turn as still as a statue while my brain spirals, trying to process his words.
“Oh shit,” the guy sitting next to me blurts out, reminding me that thousands of people are watching my humiliation live.
Then, the background music in the arena returns and the crowd shifts, but it seems it’s all happening from a distance.
“Who is she?” I manage to ask, but it comes out weak, almost vapor.
“It doesn’t ma?—”
“Tell me who she is, Bill. I deserve to know.” I force the words out through my choked throat.
“It’s Danika.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and the growing weight in my chest makes it hard to breathe. Just when I thought the blow couldn’t hit any harder, Bill drops this bomb on me. Danika… one of my closest friends.
Nausea hits me, and I jump out of my seat as if electrocuted. I won’t add puking in public to the list of my humiliations. I don’t know how I manage to exit my row as fast as I do, but once I hit the steps, I don’t look back. I wish a black hole would open underneath my feet and swallow me. But since that isn’t happening, I skip the line and settle for disappearing into a bathroom stall. People complain, but when they hear me emptying my guts, I don’t hear another peep aimed at me.
As I hurl and cry simultaneously, I think back on my life with Bill and my friendship with Danika. Were there signs that he was cheating on me with my friend, or was I that fucking oblivious? She was my roommate in college, and like most of my friends, she didn’t like to hang out with me when Bill was around. Maybe she was already screwing him back then. God, I feel so stupid.
With shaking hands, I grab my phone and send her a text.
How could you?
She reads the message, but leaves me on read. Bitch.
Katrina calls me, and I just stare at the phone. Oh God. She must have seen my epic fail on TV, and now she’s checking on me. But I can’t deal with her. I just want to curl into a ball and never leave this bathroom.