EPILOGUE Paul #2
Four years ago, I tried dating again, something my therapist had encouraged me to do.
She said it would be good for me to get out there, at least meet new people, even if it ended up being disastrous.
I couldn’t shut myself out forever. I was doing well at my job at City Hall, had just gotten a raise, and bought a condo to put down roots in Maybrook.
Dating was difficult. It felt odd to put myself out there, in a way it hadn’t been before. I was always confident in myself, in my looks, but things have changed.
Funny enough, or sad enough, depending on how you look at it, I had almost felt like I was cheating on Sophie by going out on a simple coffee date with someone more than I ever did when I fucked Elise behind her back.
How fucked up is that?
When I brought that up to my therapist, we worked together to unpack that and realized that it was because the affair was a conscious choice by me, guided by my avoidance issues. My brain could warp itself into justifications from that.
The dating thing was something an outside influence was pushing me to do. It was opening up to something real and vulnerable. My natural reaction was to resist and flee.
But I didn’t. I forced myself to go, and it was awful.
She was also a beautiful, successful woman.
A nurse at the local hospital who looked nothing like my ex-fiancée.
And I spent every moment of the date wishing that it was Sophie sitting across from me.
I unfairly compared everything she did to Sophie.
Sophie would snicker after I ordered my drink—Kentucky Mule—the same drink I always order because I don’t believe in fixing what’s not broken.
She would go feral if tiramisu were on the menu and order two slices, one for here and one for home.
She would reach across the table to lay her soft hand over mine, whispering about how much she loved me.
That pattern continued for a while, but like a muscle you have to work out, it got a little better. I haven’t found a genuine connection with anyone, so I usually just seek out women who are looking for casual hookups to scratch the itch that’s never fully gone.
I hope one day I can find someone to measure up to what I purposefully threw away. Maybe. Maybe not.
But as I look at Sophie, gorgeous and radiant and married and pregnant, the longing grows in my chest.
I don’t think anyone will ever compare.
And that’s just something I’ll have to deal with.
Sophie must sense me openly staring at her because she makes eye contact with me, and the smile drops a fraction when she recognizes me.
Feeling awkward, I lift my hand in a wave, and she gives me a tight smile, raising her hand to wave back before she walks—waddles—over to me. I jog to meet her halfway, not wanting to exert myself when she’s so far along—Jesus, she really does look ready to pop.
When we’re close enough, she offers a soft smile. “Hi, Paul.”
Her voice kicks my chest like one of Mr. Wilkin’s horses, and I have to swallow a couple of times to clear the emotion from my throat.
My voice is still thick when I answer. “Hi, Sophie.”
My eyes sweep over her dress again, down to her boots and black tights, then back up to her glowing face. I guess it is true about that pregnancy glow. “You look beautiful.”
She smiles softly at that, her left hand rubbing at her belly, offering me a closer look at the engagement ring and wedding band on her finger. I gesture to the rings, to the belly, to the life she built without me. “Congratulations, Sophie.”
The tight expression on her face melts at that, at the reminder of all of the good things in her life, and she grins broadly. “Thank you. I’m ready to evict this little girl, though. We’ve got another month before that happens.”
“A Christmas baby,” I say, and Sophie nods, her eyes glittering in joy. “That’s great. She’s a lucky little girl.”
“Thanks, Paul,” Sophie says, shifting a little uncomfortably, not with my presence, but it looks like it’s more related to the baby. I open my mouth to ask if she needs anything before she cuts me off, “How have you been?”
“I’m... I’m good,” I shrug, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m still in Connecticut. I really enjoy it.”
“That’s good,” Sophie says, left hand still on her bump while the other hand goes to her back. “I’m glad.”
“Are you okay?” I ask without thinking, concerned for the tension that crosses her face.
Sophie chuckles, “Yes, this little girl is not-so-little. I think she’s going to be tall like her daddy.”
There is absolutely no question in my mind as to who the father of Sophie’s baby is, especially after she says the word tall.
And then I hear his voice, confirming everything I already know.
“Paul.”
Before I glance over, I can see Sophie’s entire face light up like a Christmas tree as she turns to Callum.
He doesn’t look much different than the last time I saw him, a little more grey dusting the dark hair at his temples, but he’s still tall, still solid, and from the stony look in his eyes, still does not like me very much.
I can’t blame him. If I were him, I probably wouldn’t like me either.
I didn’t do anything noble when Sophie was in the hospital.
I wasn’t some grand hero. I told them to remove me as her emergency contact because that’s what Sophie would have wanted.
I chose to do the right thing. That’s all I can keep doing to try to mitigate the harm I caused and move forward.
To love someone the way they deserve to be loved.
It doesn’t make seeing the life I could have had hurt any less, though.
I absentmindedly rub at my chest as I watch Callum wrap his right arm around Sophie, who curls into his chest. The smile on his face when he looks at her is so soft and tender, it almost feels like I’m intruding on something private.
There’s pure, selfless love in his eyes as he looks at her. His left hand goes to the swell of her stomach, gold wedding band glinting on his finger. Sophie lays her hand over his, both of them cradling their daughter growing safely inside of her.
In another life, where I wasn’t a coward, where I made better choices. It could be Sophie and me here at this Festival, matching wedding bands on our fingers, and pregnant with my baby.
In another life, where I made better choices.
“Callum,” I say in greeting, putting my hands into my front pockets so he doesn’t see them shaking. I nod toward Sophie. “Congratulations.”
“She’s the one doing all the work,” Callum smiles at Sophie like she’s a miracle.
Sophie winces, and Callum immediately notices, “Here, baby,” Callum says before sliding his hand down her belly and lifting the weight of it. Sophie immediately sighs in relief. “Better?”
“Much,” she grins at him. “She’s heavy, keeps putting pressure on my hips.”
Callum frowns like he’s annoyed at any discomfort Sophie’s feeling.
“Let’s get your donuts and get you home,” Callum says, kissing her temple and turning to me. “Paul. Happy Thanksgiving.”
I nod, feeling like someone has their hand wrapped around my throat.
“You too,” I force the words out.
Callum wraps an arm around Sophie, whose eyes linger on me for a long moment.
Not in appreciation, not in longing or even warmth, but just in acknowledgment.
We once were something, and now we’re not.
It stings, because I couldn’t seem to let go of the love I have for her, but it feels as though I was just a footnote.
A stepping stone on her way to Callum.
Maybe I was.
“It was nice seeing you, Paul,” Sophie says, giving me a small, friendly smile. She tucks herself back into Callum’s embrace and lets him guide her over to Maria’s donut stand. He says something to Sophie that makes her throw her head back and laugh.
Callum bends down to kiss her, both of them smiling into it, the clear picture of two people in love.
I turn away before I can see anymore, disappearing into the crowd. My mother stands near a Christmas ornament stall, animatedly speaking with a couple of her friends. I hang back on the edges, glancing around the festival.
I wonder how many people here made the same mistakes I did, ones that cannot be undone. I wonder how many made choices they regret, and how many feel grateful for the ones that shaped their lives into something beautiful.
There are choices I made that I am genuinely proud of. Choosing Northeastern and meeting Sophie for the good times we had together. Pursuing the career I have now, the one that fulfills me. Choosing to keep going to therapy even when it forces me to face the ugly parts of myself.
Life is just a long series of choices.
All we can do is hope the ones we make will put us on the path we want.
Good choices or bad choices, heartbreaking or healing, life always goes on.