23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carrington
8 Years Ago
(23 Years Old)
“ A re you sure you want to do this?” Seth asks me. “I thought you guys haven’t been in a good place.”
“She just had a rough night. She finally heard from that job she had her heart set on, but they went with someone else,” I say, my eyes fixed on the display cabinet.
“I don’t mean just yesterday. Though, that was hard to watch. I didn’t know a girl her size could put back so much liquor.”
“Yeah.” I run my fingers through my short hair and over the back of my neck. “She took it a lot harder than I thought she would. And she’s definitely paying for it this morning.” I had left Thea in bed with the curtains drawn and some ibuprofen and water on our bedside table. I have a feeling she’s going to nurse that hangover at least until late afternoon.
“But what about what you told me about the fights you’ve been having? Are you sure this is the best time for,” he motions down with an open palm, “this?”
I look down at the rings behind the glass, sparkling like the sun off the water at the lake. Like Thea’s eyes when she turned her unabashed smile at me when we first moved into our shitty apartment. Like the way her hair shines that lemony color when the sun hits it just right.
“Yes, this was always the plan,” I say with a small smile. My mind is still flooded with memories spinning on an ongoing reel—running around and exploring the lake as kids, finding the first ring on the bank of the lake that I knew I had to give to Thea, our first kiss, laying on the hood of the car somewhere in the middle of the desert on our road trip to Seattle, cooking dinner together on a random weeknight.
Unfortunately, those happy memories are soon replaced by the last few months of silent evenings spent on opposite sides of the couch, watching Thea leave the bathroom and pretending I didn’t hear her crying, then me shutting down because I don’t know how to help her.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts. It’s just a bump in the road. Every couple has them. As soon as she lands a job at one of the big marketing firms, things will get back to normal. We’re happy. We have big plans. I got my dream job as head chef in one of Seattle’s most popular upscale restaurants starting in a few weeks, and I know it’s just a stepping stone to me owning my own restaurant. I have a five-year plan, and Thea’s at the center of it. I can’t do this life without her. And buying the perfect ring is the first step in showing her that.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” An older man steps to face us on the other side of the glass display, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are we shopping for anything in particular today?”
“Yes,” I say and produce a print out of the ring I found on the store’s website. I’ve been browsing online for the perfect ring for a while now. I’ve been saving for it for even longer. When I came across Romero Jewelers’ website, I knew I’d find what I’m searching for here. They specialize in antique and estate jewelry, which means most of the pieces are one-of-a-kind and not necessarily “mainstream.” Just like Thea. After scouring dozens of pages of rings on the site, one jumped out at me, and I knew it was the one. “I was hoping to see this one.” I hand over the paper.
“Oh, that’s a lovely piece. Let me grab it for you.” The man steps away, walks behind the counter, and makes his way to the other side of the store. He zeroes in on the right display cabinet and busies himself with unlocking it and getting the ring out.
I turn back to Seth with a smile. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so excited about something. Even getting my new position doesn’t match the anticipation I feel about my future with Thea. He doesn’t appear to match my enthusiasm. His lips are pulled into a tight line, and his eyes look… sad?
“Just say whatever it is you’re thinking,” I say.
“Look, it’s nothing. You seem like you’ve already made up your mind,” he says.
“Fuck, Seth, just spit it out.”
Seth sighs, squares his shoulders, and, looking me directly in the eye, says, “I think you’re making a mistake.” His words instantly douse the flames of my excitement. “I just… I don’t think this is the right time.” He looks down at our feet for a beat and then back up at me. “I’m not sure she’s the right person for you.”
My heart sinks at his words. I knew he didn’t like Thea. I’m not sure of the exact reason why, but they never clicked. She thinks he’s too bristly with his always-serious demeanor, and he sees her as aimless and unmotivated because she hasn’t been able to secure a position in her field. I’ve been the buffer between the two of them, and it’s worked until now. His words are a step too far. My temper flares.
“Not the right person for me?” I hiss through my teeth so we’re not overheard by the other customers in the shop. “She’s the only person for me. Has been pretty much since the day I met her. She’s forever, Seth. This,” I tap a finger on the display case, “is just a fucking formality.”
I have never spoken to him like this in the five years we’ve known each other. His posture deflates, and his face transforms to one of hurt and resignation. He gives me a small nod.
We’re spared any more awkward silence when the jeweler comes back and places a black velvet display tray in front of me. He then places the ring from the paper I handed him in the center. I pick it up to inspect it closer. It’s perfect. It looks like a small sun with a bright yellow diamond in the center. The color reminds me of Thea’s hair at the end of the summer when it catches the midday light.
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I look at it. I glance up from the ring in my hand to the man behind the counter, “I’ll take it.”
I’ve spent most of the day preparing for tonight. After taking Thea to get a dress under the guise that it’s my first night at the new job, I rushed over to the restaurant to prep for the dinner service and set up the proposal. In reality, I’m starting tomorrow, and my boss, Michael, has been helping me plan and execute this proposal for weeks. Now, I’m waiting anxiously for her to finish getting ready so we can head out. The blue velvet box is burning a hole in my suit jacket pocket. I feel restless and jittery and excited. I shake out my hands trying to expel the excess energy.
My phone rings with Michael’s name on the display.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” he says. “Just wanted to let you know everything’s set. We have the front room closed up for you until seven-thirty. I’ll have your guests in the back room waiting to congratulate you. You ready for this?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say with a smile. “Thank you again for doing all of this.”
“Oh, no sweat. I’m excited for you, man. Just remember, I have to open up the front at seven-thirty, we have reservations,” says Michael.
“Got it. See you soon,” I reply and hang up.
Just as I’m slipping the phone into my pocket, Thea walks out, and all breath leaves me. She looks stunning. The dress she picked out accentuates all of her lines and curves, and the burnt orange color gives her skin a warm summery glow. It has long flowy sleeves, a plunging neckline, and a side slit that comes all the way up to her hip, all of which combine and leave my mouth dry. She’s wearing her hair down, and my fingers itch to run through the strands.
Fuck. If I didn’t have twenty-five of our closest friends waiting, I’d propose right here and now, then take her to bed until the early hours of the morning.
Somehow I manage to pick my chin and tongue off the floor and clear my voice before saying, “Wow.” That’s it. That’s the best I’ve got.
She gives me a coy smile, kisses my cheek as she steps around me and throws over her shoulder, “Chop, chop, Chef. We’re going to be late for your big night.”
Once we’re in the car, Thea turns to me and says, “I’m worried about my mom. She didn’t call me today, and I haven’t been able to reach her. I asked Barbara to pop over to her house to check on her.”
“Oh, Lem, I’m sure she’s fine. She knows how big tonight is, she’s probably just giving you space to enjoy yourself, especially since you’ve been so nervous going into this,” I say.
I had invited Lydia to join us tonight when I called to ask for her blessing. She was excited for us but said she wouldn’t be able to make it due to work.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She nods, but I can tell she’s in her head as she bites at her thumbnail, staring out the car’s window.
The car ride is short, and as soon as we’re pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot Thea’s phone rings. Her hands shake as she answers. I listen to Thea’s side of the conversation, hearing only snippets of what Barbara is telling her: come home, broken ankle .
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll get a flight out as soon as possible. Thank you, Barbara. Thank you so much,” Thea says and then hangs up. We sit in silence for a few moments. I know what she’s going to say next, and my stomach is in knots.
Thea turns to me. “I’ve got to go home. I’m so sorry.” I try to talk her out of it, trying to salvage the night, citing that her mom’s injury isn’t serious, and it can wait til morning, she’s in good hands.
She’s leaving. I’m about to propose, and she’s leaving.
For some reason this moment feels big. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, it’s not like she’s turning me down, rejecting me. But it feels like the tectonic plates of our relationship are shifting, and I’m at their mercy, just along for the ride.
We exchange a few more passive aggressive snipes at each other, not outwardly fighting. She’s already almost crossed a line by bringing my own mother into it, and I know if we both stay in this car much longer, it will devolve into another blow-up. She’s not even looking at me, instead her eyes are trained on her phone, looking up last minute flights. She’s not seeing my eyes well. I usually have a better grip on my emotions.
“You’re really doing this?” I rasp out. She checks the time and then meets my eyes.
“You should get inside. I’ll call an Uber.” I open my mouth to say… something. Maybe it was going to be “I’ll come with you” or “just give me twenty minutes” or “why does it feel like I won’t see you again?”
But before anything can get past the boulder in my throat, she’s gone.
Walking into the restaurant—lit candles, peonies strewn on every flat surface, and our song playing over the speakers—I should have been filled with joy and anticipation. Instead, I stood in the middle of the room with my hands in my pants’ pockets, feeling like I just walked into my own funeral. My dread was flowing off me in waves. The box in my pocket now felt like a leaden weight.
Was I being selfish? Her mom was hurt. I knew she needed to be there.
Should I have gone with her? My head may have been mixed up, but one thought rang out clearly: she didn’t ask me to go with her. She knew I would have. I would have dropped everything. She knows she always comes first for me. She knows her mom is important to me as well. Why didn’t she ask me?
Having to then face our friends, all dressed up and ready to celebrate with us, felt like my own personal hell.
“She’s… not coming,” I said, looking around the room, from one pitying set of eyes to another. The room was silent, and I felt about two inches tall.
A week, three clipped phone calls, and very little sleep later, and I’m not feeling any better than I was that night. I feel abandoned, but I also feel like I’m being unfair. She’s dealing with a lot with her mom’s new diagnosis. She’s busy looking at treatment options and nursing care, but if I could just get more than a few sentences out of Thea on the phone, I’d feel better. There’s a deep, dark chasm between us, and I can’t find a way to scale it.
It’s Monday afternoon when I hear from her next. The restaurant is closed, and I’m attempting to use my day off to catch up on sleep, not that it’s working. I’m lying on the couch when my phone rings, and as soon as I see it’s Thea calling, I’m scrambling to pick it up.
“C–Cary?” Her voice is soft.
“Hi, Lemon. I’ve missed you,” I say. She is a balm to the nerves that have been wreaking havoc inside me since she left. “How’s your mom doing?”
“Listen, I umm… I don’t really know how to say this.” She lets out a long breath. “I—I think I have to stay.”
“Okay, I get it,” I say, nodding my head even though she can’t see me.
“It’s worse than I thought. My mom needs more help than I realized. She needs me here.”
“Of course. Do you think you’ll be another week? Do you want me to fly out there and help too? I’m sure I could get Mike to—”
“No, Cary,” she cuts me off, an edge to her tone. “I… I have to stay. Indefinitely.”
It takes some time for my mind to catch up to what she’s saying. I look around our apartment, at the furniture we’ve acquired from friends and yard sales. The pictures Thea’s put up on the walls of us smiling, happy.
“Say something, please,” she says.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Thea,” I reply. I’m fighting the emotions bubbling up inside me, trying to keep my voice even. “It kind of sounds like you’re moving back to South Carolina.”
There’s another long silence, and I think I hear a quiet sob, but she seems to have covered the phone to muffle the sound.
“What are you saying right now? What does this mean?” I ask.
“I think it’ll be easier this way. You have your hands full with your new job. You won’t have to worry about me anymore. We both know I wasn’t going anywhere in Seattle,” she rambles. I try to cut in, but her words don’t stop. “I’ve been stuck in the same serving job for almost a year now, and the marketing jobs I’ve interviewed for haven’t gone my way.” I call her name a few times, but she doesn’t take a breath and doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Thea,” I say louder. She stops talking, and there’s a beat of silence. Two. Three. Then I whisper, “Are we over?”
“I think we both know we’ve been over for a while.”
My eyes catch on the blue velvet box I placed on the bookshelf holding all of our favorite paperbacks. The ones with the broken spines that we’ve read over and over again.
I wish I could say I remember the rest of the conversation, but for all I know I stopped talking and she hung up on me after calling my name a few times or maybe I begged for her to explain.
We’ve been over for a while. I think that statement broke something in me. Why do I feel so blindsided by this? If we both knew we were over, shouldn’t this be less of a shock?