Attending his Wedding

What is Owed

I lifted up the lid to the laptop and activated it.

Violetta lay with her head against the wall of the plane, with her earphones in, blocking out the world. So now was a perfect opportunity for me to begin flicking through the journals.

I had taken the small suitcase onto the main part of the plane with me so I could look at them. For the sooner I found German, the sooner he faced his problems.

I lifted a random one from the bag and flicked to a random page. I'd no idea where to start, so I was just going to try anything.

'Aug 25th - I couldn't go on that date.'

'Aug 26th- Vale hates me.'

I instantly put that journal back without looking anymore. I just knew it was not the one.

Something was drawing me to last years, so I lifted it up and began to flick through.

'Feb 9- It's her smile.'

'Feb 14- She hates me'

'Mar 3- She left the house.'

'Mar 7- She is happy.'

Always 'she'. Not ever a name. Yet despite knowing it could be me, I refused to accept it.

I typed in the dates I'd seen that said of good memories, yet none were working, so I flicked towards a date I knew. A date that could reveal all.

'May 13- She was right. Why do I doubt her?'

The day Esmeralda was revealed to be an actress. The day everything changed for him. Yet not one mention of him or Esmeralda. Only of 'she'.

Seeing it confirmed what I didn't want to believe, I was the 'she' almost every entry was about. I knew that I was, for I was the only one who doubted Esmeralda.

I closed the journal and leaned to put it back. I didn't need to read anymore. I was his main thought almost every day and that made me confused.

I closed the laptop and reached for my bag.  I needed a drink badly as my throat was tightening with my heart.

As I lifted the bottle from the bag a letter fell at the side. One I did not recall placing in there.

I gently grasped the edges of the paper and unfolded it between my thumb and finger. A scribbly, spider handwriting greeted my view.

I gently rubbed my finger over the writing, slightly smudging it, as I read.

'You owe me another dance, that doesn't get interrupted.

You owe me a thank you, because I called you down.

You owe me a drink, because you never got the one I brought you.

You owe me some help, because I helped you with packing.

You owe me a kiss, because I haven't had enough.

I'll collect your debt in time. I've been thinking about it, and how does this time next year sound? I'll be by your side on August 17th, so put it on your calendar.

All my love, David.'

I smiled and folded the paper along the ridge again. What is owed should be paid.