The last day I ever saw or spoke to Jamie, his wife decided to surprise him. "The kids are with your parents," she explained. "I arrived early."
I heard this as I crouched behind the door of their bedroom. I was naked. The dress I'd worn to his cottage in his living room, kicked beneath the couch. With nowhere to go I listened. She called him James. They made each other laugh- a nasal laugh I'd never heard. I'd never been to the cottage either. I sat down on their grey sheets. I had expected to find blue and yellow quilts, seashells lining the dresser. A television across from the bed.
But their nightstands were lined with books. Their closet full of silk and chiffon.
He would never leave- they were cool.
I took a pair of his boxers from a drawer, an oversized shirt. I covered my body and tied back the drapes, lifted the window and popped out the screen. As I tumbled to the ground I saw a shadow in the room. I dove flat against the house. A moment later my shoes dropped into the dirt beside me. The window slammed.
I was angry- I chose the response of smallest effort. I unsheathed my arrow, took aim with the wind. I chose a rock from the ground and carved "old hag" across the side of her car. If everything else I'd been told was a lie- at least that was true. At least I was young.
Jamie had started as adventure. He quickly morphed to love. My actions were wrong but colored by desire and connection. Scratching those words was nothing but cruel. After the affair itself, it remains my largest regret.
My largest regret over you.
I don't know if it was the dress, if she undid the puzzle of the car. But after two days of silence the door to the diner opened. I had my back turned but I could hear the chime. And I could feel her seething- even before the heads at my table started to shift, before a murmur rose. I twisted my neck as she picked a glass from a different table. She threw the drink to my face. She shattered the glass to the ground.
"Whore," she said. "You selfish whore."
The room went quiet. My mother stared- a hand glued to her apron, to the heart beneath.
"I thought it was a crush," Trista told me later. The other waitress. "I didn't know you were unkind enough to do it."
I was.
I'm sorry you learned that too.
YOU ARE READING
Bend Fly Run
RomanceAt nineteen, Beanie made a choice that brought her adventure and agony, and she's been treading through the debris of its destruction ever since. Eight years later, she travels to Australia in a moment of bravery and shares a surfing lesson with El...
