“Who does?”
Two simple words.But they trigger my defensiveness.
First Helen, now Matthew.
It’s startling, the ease with which they seem to dismiss James.Dismissus.As if ending an engagement, dismantling a future I poured years into, is as simple as deciding you don’t like an outfit anymore.
It was an engagement.
The ring I wore.The vows we almost took.
A shared life mapped out, right down to the loan agreement tied to our relationship status.
They just see the monster he became and the relief of the ending.They don’t see the ghost of the man I thought I was marrying.The weight of the life I thought we were building.
My throat tightens.
I turn my head, my gaze landing on his profile.“Well, me, apparently,” I say, the words quiet but heavy.“But I didn’t just like him.I loved him enough to say yes to marrying him.”
A muscle jumps in Matthew’s jaw, and his grip tightens on the steering wheel.“None of this is your fault, Amy.”
“No?Then why do I feel like I should’ve seen through James’s act the way Helen did from the start?”
“Because Helen wasn’t the one in love with him,” he states simply, cutting through my self-blame.“Love… it doesn’t let you see clearly.”His eyes remain fixed on the road, voice remote.“It makes you see what you need to see.What youthinkyou need to see.”He lets out a short breath.“But then, you get to a point where you can’t ignore the truth anymore.If you’re lucky.”
“Are you suggesting I’m lucky?”
“I’m saying people accept things they shouldn’t when feelings are involved.Make excuses.Overlook flaws.That’s love for you.”He shrugs.
“That’s a very tragic way of looking at love.”
“Loveistragic.”
My heart slams against my chest.
One man believes love is nothing more than a transaction.
The other believes love is nothing more than an unnecessary tragedy.
Matthew signals and slides the car into a tight parallel spot.Through the window, I see a cheerful bakery with a bright blue awning.Frost & Frothis painted in friendly yellow script on the glass.
“I’ll only be a minute.”He kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt.
I watch his reflection in the side mirror as he strides toward the bakery, tall, confident, before disappearing inside.
Alone in the quiet car, I lean my head back against the headrest.
I hate to break it to you, Mimi, but you’re in for a very rude awakening if you believe that love is a one-definition-fits-all.
The weight of James’s words presses down on me.Heavy and suffocating.
A transaction or a tragedy.
Is that really all love boils down to?
Is their bleakness the reality?
What about partnership?Shared laughter?Quiet care?The things I always associated with love…
