Silence. Ashley comforts me. “Emily, you guys have history. He’s just pissed.”
Pissed?
A month ago, same room, same spot. I was going to propose. We’re playing a game. He
loses, has to tell the truth. I ask, “Ever thought
about marriage?”
He looks at me, face shadowed. “No. Never.
Marriage freaks me out.”
Stunned. He’s pissed I asked in front of
everyone. Leaves early. My proposal dies.
Now I know. Not marriage. Me.
A relationship that starts blurry ends blurry.
Jake and me. Over.
Chris drives home. Quiet guy, and I’m not
talking. Just music.
84
<
“Emily, if you…” Ben calls.
“Emily! Jake’s in a fight!”
We get there. It’s over. Jake, flushed, probably
adrenaline and alcohol, is all over his girlfriend.
She’s nestled in his lap. He kisses her, just like
he used to kiss me. The crowd cheers.
Someone asks, “Dude, weren’t you gonna marry
Emily? Who’s this?”
Jake’s face hardens. “Never gonna marry her.”
The guy looks shocked. “But this girl…she looks
like Emily…”
Jake slams his glass. “Don’t say that name
again. Get out. This is your new sister–in–law.
Got it?”
They exchange looks. No one calls her that.
<
3:38
I leave. See Ben at the door.
84
“What happened? Is he hurt?” He looks in, sees
Jake nuzzling the girl, just like with me.
He backs out, cursing.
I walk to the river. Memories.
Eighteen. Jake sweet–talks me into bed.
Promises forever. Reckless Jake gives up his
risky hobbies because I worry. Same college.
Perfect boyfriend. Everyone envies me. His love,
so public, so devoted.
Twenty–one. His parents find out. His dad
whips him with a belt, calls him irresponsible.
Jake, dry–eyed, says he’s serious about me.
He’ll make me happy. Back bleeding, me
sobbing, he smiles, says it doesn’t hurt. Gets
the ring from his mom. “You’re a Walker now.”
Ben asks him, “Feelings change. What if you
change your mind?” Jake kicks him. “Never. Unless I die.”
Last year, seven years in. He holds me. “My
love for you? Forever.”
He’s a wildfire. Me, I’m slow–burning, but my love is deep. So deep, he’s moved on, I’m still
here.
84
Taking him to my parents‘ graves after he gave me the ring. Holding my hand. Promising them,
“Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I’ll take care of Emily
forever.”
His forever. Eight years. My love. A secret.
I wipe away tears. My phone pings. Email.
Doctors Without Borders. Accepted. Leaving in
a week.
