SWNOVELS You’re Still The One: Chapter 4
Ashley had never expected to be married at twenty-three. The way she’d planned her life, she would get a good job first, rise up a few ranks, save up some money, buy a house and start dating seriously after thirty, marry by thirty-three and have kids by the end of her thirties.
But after Andrew’s proposal, she had fed that order to the sharks.
She was getting married at twenty-three. She was still without work. A house was nowhere in sight. And if she and Andrew kept having the steamy sex they were having, she would have five kids before she could blink.
That thought was scary. She wasn’t ready to be a mother at twenty-three. Kids… she wanted to have them eventually, but not now.
Andrew’s business was still not steady and she was now going to be financially dependent on him. He hadn’t betrayed any hint that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, but she wondered if they really could manage.
The lace and tulle of the white mermaid gown prickled against her moist skin. It was hot in here. She felt the dampness of the cloth where it rubbed her armpits. She tugged at it and scanned the crowd.
Her silence when she was supposed to be saying her vows sent a wave of whispers through the sea of faces inside the chapel. In the nervousness, she had forgotten the lines she had rehearsed so many times they should have become a part of her.
Her parents looked at her expectantly. She couldn’t quit now. Pull yourself together, she scolded herself.
Every bride was plagued by doubts on her wedding day. It was normal to be anxious. But she had the most important thing—love—so she was going to be okay.
Her hands shuddered. Andrew squeezed them lightly. She refocused. She could get through this if she kept looking at him. He stood before her in his black tuxedo and brilliant smile, looking like he had materialized from the movie screen. Holding her hand gently, calming her nerves. All that needed to be said to bind them in matrimony was a few words.
Ungluing her lips which had been stuck together for a while now, Ashley looked into the most serene, steadying pair of gray eyes. The air returned to her lungs again and despite how tight the bodice of the dress was, she managed to draw a deep inhale.
“I, Ashley Brown, take you, Andrew Smith, to be my wedded husband.”
Despite the doubts and fears plaguing her, the words came with surprising ease. They sounded so right. His name sounded so perfect from her lips. Like she had been meant to say it all along.
“To have and to hold for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer…”
She didn’t even register the strings of syllables that flowed from her mouth after that.
Then it was over. A splash of relief, followed by their solemn first kiss as husband and wife. She wanted to hold onto the moment for a little longer, savor the friction of his mouth sliding over hers, but it passed like a spell of rain, leaving her thirsting for that all-consuming passion she was used to.
Applause and congratulatory messages trailed behind her along with the long white train as she walked out of the chapel with Andrew holding her hand.
Her knees wanted to fold. The emotion was overwhelming. The atmosphere was rife with something magical, and tense at the same time. She was at the cusp of a new experience, a major new chapter.
Andrew’s arm came around her protectively. The thirty-seven-degree heat and humidity outside closed in on them and an errant tear fell.
She was married now. Officially.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. “I promise the rest of our married life will be better than that lukewarm kiss.” The huge mound of hair on her head absorbed him without letting his kiss touch her nerves.
She snorted, trying to laugh, and entwined her arm around his waist. “It had better be.” Then, stepping down the stairs, she remembered about his father. “Your dad wasn’t here today.”
The outline of a vein become apparent on Andrew’s forehead. “I’m glad he decided to not show up.”
He was still upset over the lost Johns Hopkins contract. He should be. Honestly, she couldn’t understand how Mr. Smith could have been so cruel to his own son. The father-son dynamic in Andrew’s family was really screwed up.
“I cannot believe we are married. It feels like a dream.”
A dream that had come true. Despite the uncertainty of the future that lay ahead, of one thing she was certain—it was Andrew and no one else she wanted by her side in that future.
“If it was a dream, we wouldn’t be drenched in sweat. And I’d not be wearing this stuffy jacket and necktie.” His white shirt was soaked at the front from blotting sweat and his temples glistened with sweat too.
The humidity was through the roof today. She was lucky the dress hadn’t slid right off her slippery body.
A July wedding had its own issues, but holding out until winter had never been an option for them. From the moment he’d proposed, every minute of waiting had been excruciating.
She’d jumped right into wedding planning with her mom the next day. It had filled her empty days, while she waited for an interview to come her way—and at some point, she’d forgotten about interviews and jobs altogether. She’d moved back to Greenport from New York, since they were having the wedding in her hometown.
From arranging the catering to the flowers to the accommodation for guests, Ashley had taken everything upon herself. She had leafed through countless bridal magazines, articles and advice on the internet to make everything as perfect as she could for her wedding day.
She had been to the stores of numerous wedding dress designers and called up every florist, bakery and caterer in town for a quote. Even their honeymoon was planned, down to what they were going to have for breakfast each day at the resort in Florida. One week of sunshine, sea and sex.
“Better get used to the heat. It’s going to be even hotter in Florida,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but at least we’ll be wearing bathing suits and swimming in cool water, rather than in our own sweat.”
“We’re in our wedding outfits now. Don’t you think this is more precious?” she argued.
“It is. You look splendid in that dress, by the way. I couldn’t tell you how beautiful you were at the altar because I couldn’t tear my eyes off you long enough to think.” The tip of his nose contacted her neck. There was something romantic about the way he whispered the words in her ear.
“I was shaking, so your words would have flown right past my ears, anyway. There were so many people watching us like zoo animals on display. I was unnerved throughout the ceremony, but you were so unperturbed.”
“My calmness might have had something to do with standing opposite an angel.” He traced her jawline with a light press of his middle finger. She swooned. He was so perfect sometimes. In the right way.
“At least I recited the vows correctly.” Ashley said.
Better look on the bright side.
“The only vow we need is love. And I got that one from you before we married.”
He had. After his proposal. His proposal—his proper proposal—had been both funny and romantic, like him. He had dressed up as an out-of-season Santa Claus and handed her the ring out of his gift bag.
She had laughed her head off at his antics and so had the staff at Dracosys.
Her ‘yes’ had come in a heartbeat, because honestly, where was she going to find a guy who could make her laugh like that again?
“I can’t believe we’re married. I used to snigger at girls who married young, pitying them for shackling themselves so soon. And now I am one of those girls. Talk about ironic.”
“It’s fun to laugh at yourself sometimes,” he said. “I never predicted I’d marry at twenty-three, either, but then again, I didn’t know I’d meet you.”
She had to admire how well he was taking to being married. Some people did. Hopefully, she would be in that category.
“We can tell our grandkids how we married after a five-month courtship.” Andrew said.
Grandchildren. Children. Growing old together. There would be those things too, right?
“They will laugh at their impulsive grandparents. Although I wonder how you will look as an old man.” She was having a hard time imagining that his magnificent face would ever grow old, but it would. Time would dissolve everything, except the eternal—love.
“Still as handsome as hell, I can guarantee you that.” He lifted his pointed chin up in the air, making his slicked-back cocoa hair glisten. “And still as madly in love with you.”
That did a number on her heartstrings.
“Ashley, congratulations, dear!” Her mum, eyes overflowing with tears, hugged her. The satin flower sewed on her dress poked Ashley’s eye. “I hope you have a great life.”
Her father, hovering on the line between emotional and restrained, put his palm on her head affectionately. She wished her marriage would be as solid and stable as her parents’. They had been together for twenty-eight years and counting.
Andrew received a pat on the shoulder from her father, along with a few classics like, ‘Make my daughter happy.’
When it was time to throw the bouquet to the next lucky bride, her parents moved out of the way. Ashley turned back and tossed the bunch of soft pink roses surrounded by frilly hydrangeas. Its velocity carried it over the damp pressure of the breeze.
A symphony of screams… followed by the crowd clearing away to crown the winner.
Bella.
In a lavender ensemble that draped over her dangerous curves, Bella was too shocked to say anything. Bella had been one of her bridesmaids today, along with Kat. Her two best friends had also helped her organize her wedding, chipping in any way they could despite their busy schedules.
“Congratulations.” Ashley glided down the stairs to her.
“I don’t want to be the next one to get married. I still have to do a PhD and get a tenured professorship.” Bella fiddled with her glasses. At Kat’s insistence, she had changed from her old, narrow frameless ones to thick black-framed ones, which accentuated the almond-shape of her eyes instead of hiding them.
“Oh, right.”
Bella had her heart set on being a professor and come hell or high water, Bella was the type of woman who would reach her goal. She had a one-track mind when it came to her career.
“We’re still going to have our girls’ nights out, so when I do get married, you will find out.” Bella continued.
“That’s right.”
Ashley wouldn’t give up her girls’ nights out for anything. They were the most fun moments of her week.
Kat, dragging along the skirt of her dress, which was a tad long for her petite frame, joined in on the conversation. Kat’s exquisite features had received a major boost of glamour from the subtle but noticeable makeup. A week ago, she had dyed her perennially brunette hair blonde for an investigative assignment, which lent her face a breath of light despite the dark eyes.
Strands of her hair, which had been too short to arrange into any kind of hairstyle, skimmed her forehead and she tried to blow them away. “So what’s the plan now? Kids?”
Ashley blushed. “I don’t know. We haven’t thought that far. But we are going on honeymoon to Florida next week.”
“That sounds fun. Do you think you can pack Kat and me into your luggage so we can come along? I need a break from graduate school and sunshine sounds tempting.” Bella twisted her face into a funny position. “Just kidding.”
“We’ll be looking forward to all the juicy details of your honeymoon,” Kat added. “And if you ever get tired of being around Andrew, my apartment is always open. I’m going to be lonely without you.”
“That reminds me that I still have to move my shoes out.”
“Maybe I’ll keep them there forever, so you have an excuse to visit me.”
“Someone is being clingy.” Bella whistled.
“We’ve been roommates for four years. I have the right to be clingy,” Kat snapped and then, with a sniffle, embraced Ashley once more.
A spout of emotion sprang up in Ashley’s heart. Saying goodbye to her best friends, even for a week, was making her feel like she was going somewhere far away.
“It’s time for the portrait,” her mom said.
The photographer waved at Ashley to summon her to the front of the church where he was lecturing Andrew on posture. Ashley unwillingly let Kat’s arms go.
“Okay, put your hand right there. On her hip. Turn slightly to the right… no, that’s too much.”
They found the perfect pose a minute later and the shutters went off, sealing their special day on celluloid.
The photographer gave a thumbs up. “It’s a fabulous one.”
It had to be—after all, she was going to frame this picture and display it in the living room of their house, where it would remain for years to come, reminding them of this magical day.
“I’m itching for champagne and cake now.” Andrew stretched his back. “Tell me you didn’t order a boring white one.”
“The color doesn’t matter. They’re all made of flour, butter and sugar, anyway.”
“That’s true.”
Their faces were shadowed by a six-foot-tall bearded man who came over to them and shook Andrew’s hand. Ashley couldn’t place him. He was about Andrew’s age, maybe one of his classmates?
“You’re a married man now,” the navy-suited guy said, grinning.
“This is Drew, the co-founder of Dracosys and my business partner. We were roommates at Columbia. Didn’t expect to see you here, Drew. I thought you’d be hard at work.”
“I can’t miss your wedding. I’m the only family you have. Look around. The crowd only consists of Ashley’s relatives and friends. Somebody has to represent you.”
Ashley had to admit that statement had more than a few grains of truth in it. All her friends and family were here, but she could spot none of Andrew’s. She couldn’t even spot an unknown face that she could write off as one of his friends.
“This is my wife, Ashley.”
“Nice to meet you, Ashley. You look stunning.” Drew’s eyes darted to and fro between them. “How did this soulless workaholic dupe a beautiful lady like you into marrying him?”
“Love is the biggest scam,” Andrew said, laughing.
“Anyway, I wish you both a wonderful life together. The staff at Dracosys send their best wishes for your married life, too.”
“Thank you.”
Another tall dark silhouette walked towards them, in a tailored navy pinstripe suit and Ashley had no trouble in placing this one.
Carl Smith.
Andrew’s smile dissipated, leaving a clenched jaw and bared teeth in its place.
“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath.
“I’m late, because someone didn’t care to invite me.” Carl’s voice boomed as imposingly as his stature. Years of smoking had added an unnatural rasp to his voice.
It wasn’t possible to miss the aura of class he projected—everything from his Patek Philippe watch to his designer suit corroborated that story. With wispy white hair that defied gravity lending him a height advantage, he was two heads taller than Ashley.
Ashley took a step back.
Carl Smith had a face that looked as rough and unyielding as the man who owned it. His presence was intimidating. He appraised her with furrowed brows, then turned to Andrew. Caught between the two men, Ashley detected powerful waves of belligerence. Andrew balled his fists. She put her hand over his to calm him down.
“The wedding was planned very suddenly so we didn’t—” Ashley started, only to be cut off by Carl.
“Yes, I can see that. And I have to wonder what the reason for this hurry is. Are you pregnant already?”
Ashley tried to push down the gigantic lump in her throat. “No, I’m not,” she squeaked.
His cold eyes mocked her. “Let’s hope your marriage lasts longer than your courtship did and is better planned than this last-minute ceremony.”
“What does someone who had been divorced thrice know about a lasting marriage?” Andrew’s anger spilled, making his face a patchwork of red and gold.
Ashley could see the similarities between the men. Though physically, they appeared dissimilar to the point of questioning Carl’s parenthood, they both had an incredibly dangerous aura when they were cross.
“More than you can imagine.” His demeanor continued to remain aloof, though his voice wavered.
“We love each other,” Ashley butted in, trying to keep this conflict from escalating into an argument. “We are both committed to this relationship.”
“Every woman says that before she decides that in the long run, it’s better to accept a enormous alimony and bolt rather than stay with a man who is married to his job. I hope you were wise enough to make her sign a pre-nup, Andrew.”
“I’m not marrying him for money or assets.” she asserted.
Andrew hooked an arm around her waist to draw her to him, reassuring her that he was with her on this.
“Before you go suggesting that my wife is a gold-digger, you should recollect that I don’t have any money, thanks to you.” he said.
“You company doesn’t have the resources to handle a contract as big as the one Johns Hopkins offered you,” Carl threw out in a biting tone. “You should be grateful that I saved you from embarrassment and bad press. Reputation is everything in business.”
“You are in no position to make such sweeping assumptions when you know nothing about Dracosys.” Andrew retorted, volume rising.
“I know that it doesn’t have the technical capability or capital to scale up quickly enough to handle the amount of work Johns Hopkins would throw at you. I suggest you look at your ability before going for clients that big.”
Carl ignored the buzzing of his phone for the moment.
“Stop making excuses for your actions. What you did crossed the line.”
“I told you you could count on me making your life hell when you decided to quit Finn and pursue that worthless degree at Columbia. And you told me to bring it on.”
That statement made Andrew tongue-tied. Carl took that opportunity to turn his attention to Ashley.
“And you?” His cynical eyes swooped in on her. “What do you do for a living?”
“I graduated from NYU with a degree in business and I’m looking for a job.” She mentioned the degree because that was pretty much all she had going for her.
“Do you really have the time and finances to support a jobless wife, Andrew?” he asked. He searched his wallet and flung a business card at him. “Antonio Ricci. He’s the best divorce lawyer in Manhattan. He’s handled all of my previous divorces. This is the wedding gift I am giving you. A free consultation with him.”
Ashley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She felt bile rise in her throat. This man was the most arrogant human being she’d ever met. He was the living example of how money made people think they could get away with anything.
“Only you could do something as insensitive as referring me to a divorce lawyer in front of my wife.” Andrew didn’t even spare a perfunctory glance at the card before tearing it and tossing it to the wind. “We are not going to divorce.”
“You say that now. Trust me, no woman sticks with men like us. We aren’t marriage material.”
“Don’t lump me with you. There is no similarity between us.”
“You will realize that it is my blood that runs through you a year down the line when you’re filling out papers for separation.”
The imagery those phrases conjured up clouded her with worry. She was optimistic it wouldn’t come to pass, but it was a disturbing thought nevertheless. Noticing the distress on her features, her father came over to check on what was going on.
“Who is this gentleman?” he asked, facing Carl with a frown.
“I’m Carl, Andrew’s father.” The introduction was frigid, like the man.
“Oh, I thought you were away on a foreign trip. It’s great to meet you, Carl. I’m David, Ashley’s dad. We should get to know each other better. We’re in-laws now.” In contrast to Carl, her dad beamed with cheer and affection as he glanced down at her. The two men could be from different planets, really.
“He was just leaving. He has a flight to catch to LA.” Andrew stared down at his father, his message clear.
She expected Carl to brush it off, but he nodded and left quietly, his parting words a non-venomous, “It was nice to meet you, David. I’m sorry I have to leave.”
“I’m glad he made it despite his busy schedule,” her father commented after Carl left. He was the only one in the trio with that opinion.
When her dad was distracted by a guest and moved away, Andrew cupped her face and kissed her. This time, it wasn’t a pressed-for-time, obligatory kiss, but a deep, full, rich one. The pressure of his fingers on her temples made a few sandy curls break free and fall to the sides, framing her cheeks.
When the tips of their tongues touched, the temperature shot up another ten degrees.
He bit down on her bottom lip, making her want to do things that would be inappropriate in public on her wedding day. This is how a kiss should be, she thought as the minute mark rolled by.
Andrew was flushed when he retracted. She saw uncertainty loom in his features.
“Forget what my father said. His divorces have made him cynical. We won’t go down the path he did. I love you, Ashley. I always will.”
“I love you too.”
Then she reached up and lost herself in the depths of his mouth.
***
A year later
Ashley took a step back, attempting to get away from the physical manifestation of her insanity. The wreckage from her inner battle was spilled out onto the floor of her apartment. Andrew would be back from work any minute now. She needed to clean this up. He couldn’t see this. Couldn’t see how mad she’d become.
In her backward momentum, Ashley stepped on a shard of glass that sliced her foot. She didn’t even have the energy to wince when a scarlet stream emerged from the linear wound.
She’d not eaten dinner yet, and she probably wouldn’t be able to now that she had smashed all the plates into smithereens along with the glasses and anything else that had dared to intrude into her line of vision.
A surge of panic strangled her. She trembled and then started sobbing loudly. How could she spare money to buy more crockery on her minimum wage? How was she going to eat and cook starting tomorrow?
The death march of the clock’s hand grew louder in the silence.
Her life was as much of a sorry mess as her living room. She didn’t know who she was or what she was doing anymore. She didn’t even have time to think of such things. She worked two part-time jobs just so that she could run the household and support herself and Andrew. And when she was at home, a large pile of laundry and a sink full of filthy plates and spoons were all that greeted her.
No hugs. No smiles. No Andrew.
Dracosys had hit a rough patch three months into their marriage, so Andrew was perpetually at work, only coming home when she had left for her night shift at Walgreens.
This wasn’t how her life was supposed to turn out. She should have found a respectable white-collar job a year ago and gotten her first promotion. She should have married a man who talked to her face-to-face rather than over the phone all the time. She should have had a sex life that was more than a graveyard. Her life should have been happy—she should have never been diagnosed with depression.
Depression, something that had been alien to her for the first twenty-three years of her life, was now her constant companion. She was underemployed and her current work experience as a cash clerk would not help her get any better jobs in the future.
And the man she was doing all this for was absent from her life every single day. What a wonderful life.
Divorcing Andrew had crossed her mind a thousand times during the last year. But every time, she’d decide to give him another chance… then another… then another until she lost count.
The click of the doorknob served as the precursor to Andrew’s arrival.
He gasped at the sight. She expected him to shout, scream, pick a fight, anything after looking at the mess, but he immediately searched for her.
“Ashley, what’s wrong? Did we get robbed?”
A cynical cackle broke from her vocal cords. “Who would rob us? We have nothing. We are poor as dirt.”
“You’re hurt.” His eyes darted to her toes. “That gash on your leg is going to get infected if we don’t do something about it soon. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
No questions were asked about what had happened.
He only cared about her, not the vases, plates and furniture she had destroyed… which was why she loved him so much. And also why she hated him so much. He had trapped her in this horrible life and she couldn’t leave because she was addicted to his love.
Every time she thought of leaving, she slipped into thoughts of her hopeless future… unemployment, homelessness, emptiness. He was the only thing she had in the world now. The only identity she had. The only thing she could hold onto.
She tried to ignore the dark shadows under his eyes and his fading syllables—the result of overwork and exhaustion. No more chances. She wasn’t going to sympathize with him anymore.
“I am sick of this life.” Her voice was lifeless as she said it. “I can’t take it.”
“What’s the matter? Are you okay? What’s bothering you?” Ever sensible, ever solid, ever stable, he pierced her heart with his patience. “And sit down. We need to clean all that blood.”
She slumped on the sofa and he soaked up the running blood at her foot with a wet washcloth.
“I work fourteen hours a day and smell of laundry detergent all the time!” she yelled. The neighbors were going to complain about the noise. Not that she cared. “This is not the life I imagined for myself.”
“I’m sorry. Things are hard at Dracosys right now, but I promise it will get better.” He pressed cloth harder and Ashley flinched.
She was sick of the apologies, so sick of them. He wasn’t lying. But he wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear—that her poverty-stricken life was going to end tomorrow by some stroke of magic.
“That was what you said last month. And the month before that. Why is it still like this?” Her eyebrow slanted up.
“It’ll take time for things to improve, as much as I wish it could be done overnight.”
Realism. Ashley had no appetite for that now. She wanted improvement and she wanted it this very instant.
“I can’t go on. I hate my job at Walgreens, standing around like a dummy. I didn’t get a college degree so I could do this.”
“Then get a better job. I didn’t force you to work at Walgreens.”
“I can’t get a better job! If I could, I wouldn’t be sticking with you, being your full-time maid, doing the dishes and laundry and working two shifts. You only come home when it’s time to toss your clothes into the washing machine or eat.”
“Speaking of which, what’s for dinner?” It was an untimely attempt at humor, which riled her up.
“Is my life a joke to you? There is no dinner today. I got fed up of cooking, so I smashed all the dishes. You can cook you own dinner starting tomorrow and also do your own dishes and laundry.”
“You broke them?” He exhaled exasperatedly. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, give me a break! My clients are trying to kill me at work and you’re trying to kill me at home.”
“I am surprised you are still alive. You must have a strong constitution.” The pain in her legs kicked up again.
Andrew buried his head between his palms. “I can’t believe you said that. You aren’t the woman I married. What happened to her?”
“You turned her into a bitter, career-less, sleepless housekeeper,” she hissed out. “Do you have any idea how depressed I’ve been for the past months? You don’t have a clue, right? You’d have to actually talk to me to know that.”
“You’re depressed? Why didn’t you say anything before? I call you three times a day.” Her irritation was rubbing off on him, making this argument a who-can-shout-the-loudest contest.
“At your convenience! I can’t discuss my depression when I’m at work.” A drop of blood from her wound seeped into the beige upholstery of the couch. Great! Now she had to clean this on top of everything else.
“What do you want me to do? I have to run the company. I told you that this year would be rough. I know you’re pissed, but just hold it in a bit longer. Things will look up soon.”
He swung back to his equilibrium, and some of the edge came off him. His arm hair generated static when it whisked past her cheek during his attempt to pull her to his chest.
“How soon?” Having been starved for intimate human contact, her animosity decreased a pinch. She liked being in his arms.
“In another year or two.”
“That’s not soon. That’s an eternity.” The claws of uncertainty scratched at her throat. “Every day is a battle for me right now. I don’t have the stamina to fight for that long.”
The push at the back of her head when he wove his fingers through her hair made her neck swell with a lump of tears.
“I’m depressed, Andrew. Clinically depressed. And this life is making it impossible for me to recover. You’re making it impossible for me to recover.”
One more year of poverty, of hopelessness, of living a life that wore her out… how could she do it? She’d have nothing left by the end of that time. No beauty, no figure, no intelligence. Nothing.
“Did you see the doctor about your depression?” Andrew asked.
“Yes, and I’ve been seeing a therapist for three months now. In our last session, we figured out that the cause of my depression is loneliness and low self-worth, but that is hardly revealing. I’m all alone all the time and I have no steady job, so what else could be the cause?”
The fine lines around his eyes intensified. He withdrew his fingers, which had been caressing the top of her head, and dug into the first-aid box for bandage and disinfectant. She winced as her cut was disinfected and the sting sent needles of pain into her nerves.
“Why are you not saying anything?”
“What can I say? If I tell you I’m going to spend more time with you, that would be a lie. Did the counselor tell you how to work through these… issues?”
“Yeah, and I split my sides when she told me to spend more time with my husband.” A sarcastic cackle emerged from her.
He didn’t react. It irked her that the whole thing was his doing, yet he was the one least affected by it.
“I think you should take it easy for a while and hang out with your friends. That way you’d have some social interaction,” Andrew suggested.
“Unlike me, Kat and Bella are busy because they have real careers.”
That wasn’t the entire truth. She’d been ignoring her friends for the last year because she was jealous of them—they had the glittering careers she didn’t. She was a crumpled-up rag and they were luxury silks. She had no accomplishments, no achievements. She didn’t want them to see her like this.
“Make some new friends. Don’t you have friends at work?”
“With my rotating shifts, I don’t see anyone long enough to befriend them. And most of them are still in college. I feel so old compared to them.”
“You’re only twenty-four.”
“And yet I feel like I’m fifty-five.”
“Take a vacation. You’re stressed because you haven’t had a change of scenery in a year. Go somewhere. Go to Hawaii. Someone I know has a vacation home there. I’ll talk to him about letting you stay there for a week or two.”
“What about you?” she questioned.
“What about me?”
“Can you leave your company long enough to come with me on a two-week vacation?”
“No, I can’t. Take a solo vacation. It’ll be good for you to spend some time on your own.” Again, he had smoothly maneuvered himself out of this.
“Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying? My problem is that I spend too much time by myself. That’s why I’m lonely and dejected. That’s why I am seeing the therapist. Or do you think I am idiotic enough to mistake the warmth of Hawaiian sun for the warmth of a person?”
She exhaled. It was a hopeless situation. He was never going to change. He was never going to make her his priority. It hurt to see that she meant so little to him. All this time, she had slaved for a man who couldn’t even spare a week for her sake.
But Andrew, ever resourceful, had a solution ready—a solution not involving him that is. “Invite your parents over to Hawaii with you. They’ll love spending some time with you.”
“I have an even better idea.” She craned her neck backwards to stop the tears from spilling. “I’ll go to Greenport. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
He nodded, approvingly. “That’s a good idea. David and Violet would love to see you.”
“Yes. At least I have two people who care about me in the world.” She stretched her arms wide. She should pack.
“How long will you be there for?”
“As long as it takes for me to forget about you.”
She had made up her mind. This conversation was over. There had never been a point to all this anyway.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done with you. I’ve had enough of your evasive, sweet words. I hope I don’t have to see you again. I gave you so many chances, so many opportunities, but you just threw away all of them. I can’t be patient any longer. I want a divorce.”
His armor shattered. Bewilderment reshaped his features. “You want a divorce?” The words stuttered out slowly, like a dot-matrix printer.
She took a deep breath and showed no sign of weakness when she delivered the final syllable that would separate them. “Yes.”
Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, she repeated to herself. It would weaken her resolve. And then she’d give him another chance.
“I didn’t know… you were considering separation.” he said. It echoed through the empty chambers of her chest, but meant nothing.
“You don’t know anything because you are never here. We are virtually strangers.”
He inhaled swiftly, filling his hollowed-out lungs. His spine drooped. “I still believe we can make it work.”
The clock bellowed, ushering in midnight. “No, we can’t. We are getting a divorce. That’s it. This is the last time I’m asking you for a favor, so grant me this.”
“Ashley, think about it carefully. Don’t be hasty. You’re emotional right now, but when you’re feeling better, you’ll see that things are not as bad as you’re making them out to be. I mean, we rent a house. I’m making some money. You’re making some money. Between us, we have enough. And things are picking up at Dracosys. In a few years, we’ll be able to buy a house. I’ll be able to take you out to nice restaurants. And your career will work out, too.”
“Why is everything you’re promising in the future, Andrew? Why can’t we buy a house now? Why can’t I have a luxurious life now? I can understand you wanting to hold onto me. Actually, I’m worried what you’ll do without me. But I’ve thought about this enough to know it’s going nowhere. It’s hopeless. All we have is dreams for the future that might never materialize. I want certainty. I don’t think you can give me that.” Limping on her bandaged leg, Ashley put some distance between them. “Ouch. It’s twelve. I have to leave for my shift. I have the night shift today.”
“Take the day off. Your foot is bleeding.”
“I can’t. I took too many days off this month already.”
She had been becoming irregular with her attendance at work—she felt so low all the time, she couldn’t muster up enough energy to do anything.
“One more day doesn’t matter.” he said. “Don’t push yourself so much.”
“I don’t want to stay at home and clean up this mess. I’d rather scan barcodes.”
Clamping her mouth to stop her sobs from breaking out when she imprisoned her feet into her shoes, Ashley walked out hurriedly.
For three minutes, she reveled in the quietness of the corridor.
Then, through a gap in the door, as wide as a strand of hair, she watched Andrew. He started to clean up the broken remains she had left. When he kneeled to pick up a large piece of ceramic, she slumped to the floor and a river of tears ran down her nose and eyes.
Goodbye. Goodbye, Andrew.