Seven #3
Something in the air shifted. Her tough exterior wasn’t enough to hide what was festering inside of her, but I couldn’t figure out what made her act like a character from her own novel. We went from playful banter to ominous silence in a matter of seconds.
“Excuse me,” she said without warning. She stood abruptly, as though the restaurant was on fire. “Where’s the restroom?”
“Behind you. Through that archway,” I said, standing with her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yes. I’ll be right back.”
I wanted to kick myself. On my third-month anniversary date with Anjela, I took her to a nice seafood place, and then to the drive-in.
I thought she was enjoying herself, but halfway through the second feature, she offered to get us popcorn, but she never came back and walked the mile home.
Later, when I finally managed to get her to speak to me, she told me that she felt I was trying too hard, and that the date felt rehearsed.
I had apologized and professed my undying love, but not long after that, she chewed up and spat out my heart.
I’m praying that Alex doesn’t feel like she’s my pet project, that I barely know her and I’m pressuring her, but before I could panic, she returned from the restroom.
“Hi,” I said, pulling her chair out for her.
“Sorry about that.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Our waiter pulled up beside us with a cart full of food.
Alex’s eyes grew wide as he placed each dish on the table.
The group of businessmen packed their briefcases and left, while the silver-haired couple were leisurely sipping their cocktails, unaware of the time, and unconcerned with their surroundings.
Life owed them, and not the other way around.
“I think I’m going to need a doggie-bag.” I had filled her wine glass while she was gone. She finished it in four long gulps. “Have you ever been in love, Phillip?”
My full name sounded strange on her lips. “I believed I was. Once. A long time ago. She betrayed me.”
Alex nodded. I thought she would tell me about her own love life, but instead, she slipped into a fictional world.
“Two kids who were deeply in love were married straight out of college. They had nothing. No house, no money. Only a modest apartment, and a lot of shared dreams. They daydreamed about having children... and a puppy. He always said a puppy would make their family complete.”
“More wine?”
She smiled meekly. “Yes, please. One night, the woman felt sick. Her husband offered to go to the drugstore, but since it was pouring outside, she told him no, and that she’d survive.
The husband insisted, and because he was so stubborn, so wonderful, and so fucking stubborn, she told him to go, and to hurry. ” She paused for a moment.
“Is this a horror story?”
“Yes.”
“I asked for a love story, Alex.”
“Sometimes,” she said, her eyes hard, “they are the same thing.”
I was teasing her, but I wanted to take back the words and erase them from existence. This time, the words didn’t evaporate in the air. They lingered, filthy, and dirty.
“Can I finish?”
“I’m sorry. Yes.”
“When she heard his motorcycle rev in the parking lot, she felt a chill run up her spine. She jumped from the couch and ran outside, but her husband... he had already left.”
The woman with the silver hair stared in our direction as if hearing an echo from her past.
“I think I know where this is going.”
“No. You don’t. Not unless you can imagine sitting at someone’s hospital bedside.
You hold their hand, whisper sweet nothings...
sometimes, you even scream at them, and curse at them, because you know they’re never going to wake up.
You know that no matter how much you love each other, you can’t make them open their big, beautiful, fucking eyes. ”
“It... sounds like a nightmare.”
Without taking her eyes off me, she spoke the words that defined her, words that I wish I could unhear, “Yes. It was. It really was”, she said, laughing inappropriately.
“Everyone lied. The doctors, my so-called friends. My parents. If you want to know who really loves you, Pip, try suffering through the hardest thing you can imagine. See who sticks around. No one does. No one. But do you know what made it so much worse? I never told him I loved him. My own husband, and I never said those three words. I only ever said, ‘I heart you’ because of some insane notion that if I said the words, they’d feel small compared to what I really felt.
” She reached for her clutch to rifle through it and knocked over her wine glass.
The liquid resembled blood as it spread across the white linen. “I want to cut my tongue out.”
“Sweetie... I...”
She shook her head violently before placing a ring on her finger. “Don’t. Don’t try to make it better.” Her hair fell loose. I felt myself falling into a dark, endless pit. “I don’t think I can write you a love story. I don’t think I can write another single fucking word for as long as I live.”
I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t dare breathe. As she stood to leave, the gold of her wedding band glinted beneath the romantic glow of the wall sconce.