“You flew all the way to Spain for some sherry we can buy five blocks from our house?”
He shrugs. “It was on sale.”
“But we were going to have dinner together! Youtoldme to meet you here!”
“Sorry, Abigail, but you’re not the center of the universe, you know.”
I wake myself up punching the air above my bed. Sitting up, I rub my eyes while my heart pounds out the tune of my rage. It’s a little after four in the morning and there is no way I can fall back asleep at this point. I don’t even want to, in case I go back to that fight.
Getting up, I wander through the empty house, which has taken on an inky gray tone. I’m both furious and restless. Without thinking, I slide on a pair of flip-flops, then walk out the back door. There is only the full moon and a distant streetlamp to light my way. The cool air runs over my skin, waking my body. By the time I’ve crossed through the wet grass of my yard, my feet are soaked and cold, but it doesn’t put out the fire that burns inside me.
The wind whips my hair across my cheek as I walk through the maples and make my way along the path to the shore. Other than the waves lapping against the rocks, the world is still. The sun hasn’t woken the birds yet, and I am glad for that. It means I can be alone with my anger.
I walk all the way to the ocean, then stand on a large, flat rock and stare out. My bathrobe flutters around my shins, but I do not tighten the sash to shield me from the chill.
Why am I so furious?
My dream comes flashing back into my mind. I see Isaac’s face. I suddenly hate him. I hate him for leaving me. I hate him for loving me. I hate him for showing me a life I can no longer have. I hate the young woman sitting at that staffroom table thinking it would be deliciously fun to turn his head. I hate her for letting him make decisions that were mine to make. I hate the pitiful woman wallowing away in that apartment, wasting so many days. I hate her weakness, her self-pity.
I reach up and take hold of his ring. Some wild part of my mind believes the delicate gold chain around my neck is going to choke me. I have to get it off now or I will die. I give it a sharp tug and the chain snaps with the force of my rage. I pull my arm back and hurl it into the water, letting out a scream of pure hatred.
The moonlight reveals to me the exact spot in which the ring drops. I’m shocked. I’m relieved. I’m done.
I walk back to the house, strip off my wet clothes, climb under the covers, then drop into a deep sleep.
* * *
I wake with a start and reach for my necklace. It’s gone. I actually threw Isaac’s ring into the ocean.
I throw off the blankets, startling poor Walt, then dress quickly in my swimsuit, not bothering to brush my teeth. I run out the back door and down to the water where I scour the shore. I know I won’t find it, but I wade into the ocean anyway, diving under, trying to feel my way along the rocky bottom below me. Rays of light shine through the water, but I can’t keep my eyes open without the salt stinging them. I surface, take a deep breath, then close my eyes and grope around some more before giving up and returning to the shore, my teeth chattering with cold.
The sun is too weak to warm me as I sit on a rock, breathing hard and staring out to the water. It’s too late. I can’t undo it. I have thrown away the dearest thing of Isaac’s that I had. The symbol of my undying love and fidelity. What kind of a horrible wife am I? I slump down and sob into my hands.
“Abby, is that you?”
I know that voice without looking up. “Hi, Eunice.”
“What’s wrong, dear?” I glance up in time to see her as she hurries over, dressed in a neon green tracksuit with matching sneakers. Her hair is up in a high ponytail that is probably meant to take a decade off her face.
“Nothing. I lost something.”
“What was it? I can help you look.”
“A ring. But it’s gone. I can’t find it.”
“It must have been very special for you to be so upset.” She sits next to me and pats my hand.
I nod and feel the sting of fresh tears. “It was.”
“Hmph, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s not about the ring, though, is it?”
“You’d be right.” I look over at her and finally see past all the hair and makeup and matchy-matchy clothes. I see a woman who wants to make the world a bit brighter. “Did you ever feel like maybe the life you built for yourself isn’t necessarily the one you should be living?”
She looks up at the sky for a second before answering. “Do you mean because I married the wrong Beckham?”
I chuckle and watch her as her gaze follows a sailboat.
“I hope you know I’m only joking. Dennis is a good man, and I love him to death. But, yes, sometimes I feel like I should be living a different life.”
