I
watched as she raised her delicate hand and lit the cigarette resting between
her slightly parted lips. Her body expanded as she took a deep breath, and then with a slow,
gentle exhale, a light smoke clouded her face. The corners of her mouth turned
up just slightly as she met my gaze. For someone who was knowingly killing herself
faster, she did it with such grace. God,
she’s beautiful. I smiled back at her. Anna’s
beautiful.
“Rick, honey,” she said. “I have
something to tell you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, well… I got the job…” she looked
up at me with hesitation.
“Wait.” I shook my head. “Sorry.. what?”
“Yeah, Rick! They want to hire me.”
Suddenly the room was a thousand
degrees. I could feel my face turn red.
“…All the way in Chicago, though? That’s
just… I don’t know… so far away.” We were currently residing in a very modest
(okay it was kind of shitty) apartment in Queens, New York. So moving to a
better apartment would be nice, but in
Chicago? Fuck no. Completely out of the question.
“But Rick, you can come with me. I want you to come with me.” She forced
out a meek smile.
My face twisted, contorted, and I
shifted in my seat; perhaps my sudden involuntary restlessness would somehow
push out the words that were stuck in a lump at the back of my throat. Look at her, I thought with disgust. Her
absolute stillness was annoying. “What about everything we have here? You just
expect me to get up and leave everything I’ve worked for?” The rage built up
and exploded so quickly that even I was a bit surprised. But she was being so
inconsiderate. “I genuinely thought we were happy here.”
“No, Rick, YOU are happy here.” Her
eyebrows furrowed and she lifted her hand up and shook her head, as if to tell
herself not to say anything more.
Anna sat across from me at the tiny
round table for two, the thickening, uncomfortable silence lingering in the air
like a stale, cold winter’s breath.
Everything was happening so fast. I was
so irate to the point where the words in my head no longer made any sense. I
remembered the day that she applied for Sidley Austin LLP, one of the world’s
premier law firms. It’s mainly just to
apply, she said so surely. I wouldn’t
actually get the job, Rick. It’s really just a far-fetched dream of mine. I
stood with a jolt, the backs of my knees quickly pushing against the chair I
sat in, making the wood squeak along the tile.
She sighed. “Rick. Sit down.” I continued to
pace the room, my footsteps heavy.
“Rick, I wasn’t trying to say that I’m
unhappy here. Believe me; it makes me happy to see you happy. But I’ve been
working the same mediocre job for over 6 years now; I hate my boss, I hate my
coworkers and they probably hate me too, the break room has a shitty vending
machine and it always smells like eggs because of Janice… but I’ve put up with
it because I know you love it here. This opportunity can open up new doors for
the both of us.” She was trying.
I threw words right back at her face.
“Then find a new job HERE so we don’t have to move.”
“I landed my dream job. Does that not
mean anything to you?” Anna started to lose her composure, the calm melting
away from her face. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to steady
herself.
“Well then you can leave and I can stay
here.”
Her eyes suddenly flew open and grew
wide, making more room for the tears welling up. And after the initial shock,
she made no further effort to hold them back as her head toppled over into her
hands with defeat. Quiet sobs disturbed the silence, her shaking shoulders collapsed
forward. I couldn’t watch. In all the years of us being together, I had never
seen her this broken.
We sat there at that cramped kitchen
table for what seemed like hours. I didn’t know what I should say, so we
continued to sit there, the silence smothering us.
We
began to fall out of love after that. Or something. She was slowly vanishing
from my life, like the back end of a pencil steadily erasing a beautifully
detailed masterpiece, until there was nothing left except for the little pink remains
of the eraser itself, scattered about an empty canvas like confetti. I started
working overtime to earn more money for us, and she continued working her same job.
I knew she hated having to turn down the Sidley Austin offer, and we never once
talked about it after she did. But I didn’t feel bad, because we were both
doing what was best for our relationship. Right? Over time we both settled in
our daily routine of getting up, going to work, coming home, going to bed,
showering and eating thrown in there somewhere. But that was exactly it; we
settled. We never fought, but I could see it. I could see her growing tired: tired
of being here, tired of us. She was reeling her
love back in, like a struggling fish caught at the end of a hook. Or maybe we
both were. I think I was half expecting the day to happen, for things to end.
“Just go.”
“Don’t you want to talk about this?”
She was hysterical, the most emotion I had seen from her in months.
“No, I don’t want to talk about
this,” I mocked. “You are the one who wants to leave.” I looked up from the
table, my eyes fixed on hers. “So leave.”
There.
It happened.
Days,
weeks, a month and then two months went by, and I could still remember every
instant of that last conversation we had (or fight, whatever you want to call
it). I remembered she wore that horrible creamy floral blouse, probably on
purpose, because she knows I’ve actually always loved that shirt on her. It
brings out her eyes. I remembered that according to the kitchen clock, it was
exactly 3:52 in the afternoon when she left my apartment for the last time,
lethargic feet and dragging all of her shit behind her. She forgot on my
nightstand that little silver knot ring that adorned her right hand, probably
on purpose. I remembered looking down at my shaking hands, wondering if this
was real or not. I remembered that when she left, she didn’t even look back.
I collapsed down onto that solid
wooden seat at the small kitchen table for two, staring at the apartment door,
seated in the exact spot I sat in when Anna left me. Each recall of that moment was more torturous than the last, but I seemed to craved the pain; it was better than feeling
nothing at all.
I shoved a menthol cigarette between
my chapped lips, lit the other end, and threw the lighter down on the table,
like it was the table I was annoyed with. Really, at that point, it was safe
to say that most things annoyed me. Counting up the things
that didn't annoy me was easier: one being the new cat I adopted from a shelter after
Anna left, and two being my toothbrush, because the sound of the hard bristles
scraping away at my coffee-stained teeth had a bit of a calming, hypnotizing
effect on me.
Taking a deep, sharp inhale, I
watched the end of my cigarette burn bright orange and then gradually die away
to a dark grey ash. It was a disgusting habit I had picked up after Anna left.
I was completely, 100% aware of nicotine’s cancerous consequences, and I swear
I could almost feel my lungs
blackening with each accumulating cigarette butt, but I didn’t even give a shit
anymore. The apartment just didn't feel like home without the slightest lingering scent of burning
tobacco.
I think more than anything, though,
I annoy myself. Was I really that blind?
How long was she unhappy with living here? ... And Jesus, when was the last
time I showered?… I thought back to the little signs she flashed here and
there, the signs that I acknowledged but blatantly disregarded. After she
turned down the offer, there was this strange absence of sound while we got
ready in the mornings before work. Conscious effort or not, she had quit
singing in the shower.
There was also the night when I took
her out to a nice dinner downtown because I had just earned a job promotion at
work, and I thought it would only be appropriate to celebrate with some aged
wine and a 10 oz ribeye with a side of mashed potatoes. Anna barely spoke a
word the whole time, and so naturally I became upset. Is it so hard just to be happy for me? Is what I had said to her.
She cried, and at the time I couldn't understand why.
My dirty fingers combed through my
greasy, matted hair. So, what now? I
let all this time slip by without directly contacting her, with a flicker of
hope that maybe she would attempt to get ahold of me first. Am I too proud?
Because I’m definitely too stupid for letting her walk out of my apartment that
day. There was no easy way we could have dealt with the situation, but either
way, someone was going to have to make a sacrifice.
I got up and made my way toward the
door, eyes burning bright with fire and determination. I stopped as I brought
my hand up to turn the handle. No, I
thought. Shower first.
I
knew exactly where I was headed. I had only daydreamed about getting Anna
back, planning out every single moment in my head, but never once thinking that
I’d actually go through with it. Once she left, she became this untouchable entity
who would only haunt me in my sleep. She moved back in with her younger sister
Anita over on the far east side of town; I knew this because I would
occasionally call Anita to check up on things, in which she would respond that
Anna was fine and appreciates me calling but would appreciate it more if I’d stop calling. I marched across town in
my favorite striped shirt and corduroys, puffed up with a confident façade, my
mind cluttered with all the possible things that I might say to her. As I grew
closer and closer, I became more and more unsure of what I was doing, why I was
doing this. I took a sudden halt in my tracks, my face completely blank. Was
this the right thing to do? What if she says no? What if she doesn’t even talk
to me? What if she hates me? What if—
STOP,
I said to myself. You really have
nothing to lose here. I can’t lose Anna after I’ve already lost her. And
plus, I’ve already walked all the way across town.
Throwing
my momentum forward, I plodded along, one foot in front of the other, clammy
hands and sweaty forehead. I found myself turning the final corner, Anita’s
apartment just down the street. And then, I froze.
There she was. Even from far away I
could tell it was her, angelic as always. Anna was on her way out of
the apartment building dressed in a cute, form-fitting, polka-dotted dress that
accentuated her petite figure. And she was smiling.
…She
was smiling.
I
stood there, staring, gazing at her from afar, trying to memorize every part of
her, capturing that entire moment in a bottle so I could take it home with me.
And then, that’s when I turned around
and left. It took every ounce, every atom of my being to just go. But I wasn’t
upset, I wasn’t depressed. Maybe a part of me was hoping that she was as
miserable as I was, because misery needs company… but she looked so genuinely,
so completely happy. She didn’t need
me, and suddenly, I was fine with that. It shouldn’t have taken me seeing her
real smile to understand that she was better off without me. Anna had always
been beautiful, but she was beaming. She was alive.
Half grinning, I reached down into my
pocket and pulled out a box of Camel menthols and Bic
lighter, half full. I think that’s all I needed, you know: closure. Even though
it wasn’t face to face, I knew that walking away was the right thing to do.
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