I walked up to the edge of the small balcony and leaned over, the wind frigid on my face. “Because life gets in the way sometimes. You should know that better than anyone.”
“You’re happy though. You have a good job. You have a house and a car and friends. Right?” He sounded strange. More than curious. Not quite frantic.
“I have a good job. A house. A car. A friend or two, I guess.” I didn’t sound convincing.
Yoss picked up on it immediately.
“You were supposed to find your happy life, Imi.” He sounded accusatory. As though I had done something wrong. As if by not going to the beach, I had let him down in some way. It irritated me.
But it also made me feel ashamed. Because even though I loved my job, I had very little else to show for myself.
My marriage had failed. I didn’t have any children. Sure, my mother and I were on better terms, but that really depended on the day.
I had little depth to my life and while I had thought myself content with the existence I led, I realized now that wasn’t true.
The realization made me defensive.
“What about you? Is this what you consider a happy life? Still living in abandoned houses, scrounging for food, barely getting by? Is it a happy life to contract hepatitis B and not realize it? To have so little regard for your health and safety that you would be in a position to contract it in the first place?” I stared out over the park. “You lied, Yoss. You were going to do something better. You told me over and over again that that part of your life was over. Your promises are all broken. Why should I have bothered to keep mine?”
Yoss was silent.
Our breath puffed out in front of us. Small, white clouds drifting off into nothing.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
On and on. Constant and continuous. Infinite.
“Tell me a story, Imi.”
I sighed. “I’m not in the mood for fairytales, Yoss. I haven’t been for a long time.”
He looked at me, his eyes full of remorse and something else. Something stronger. Something that made my heart constrict and my throat tighten. “Then tell me a true story. Something that really happened. Something happy. Something about you.”
“I don’t think I have one of those kinds of stories.”
Yoss put his hand on top of mine. Cold fingers wrapped around frozen skin. “That’s not true, Imogen.”
We stood there, staring at each other, and I wanted to give him what he asked for. My anger was gone. I had never been able to hold onto the useless emotion, much less when it was directed towards Yoss.
“Let’s go inside.” I inclined my head towards the door.
Yoss nodded and followed me back into the warmth of the hospital café. We stood just inside, neither of us moving.
Tell me a story, Imi.
Could I give him a story? Could I open myself up to him the way I once had?
An angry, obstinate part of me didn’t want to.He left me. Discarded. Thrown away. He let me wonder where he went. What I had done wrong. I was alone in my love for him. All alone…
Yoss pushed his hands into the pockets of his robe. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into a cup of coffee?” He tried to laugh. It didn’t quite work.
“You want a true story from me? Why should I give you anything that’s true, Yoss?” I asked him, forgetting for a moment that we weren’t alone.
Yoss’s shoulders slumped a little. He rubbed his newly grown beard. “You don’t have to give me anything, Imogen. I have no right.”
