I fix my attention back on the house. Each level features three sets of windows facing the street, all equipped with black shutters. When I was a kid, I would always ask Mom why we never closed the shutters.“Do they even work?”I would ask.“Yes, pretty girl, but I like feeling the sunshine that comes through those windows.”
As I exit my car, my mind drifts to when I last visited. It was only two weeks ago. I like to visit every other month. The drive is far enough that I can’t visit as frequently as my parents would like, but close enough that I can make a quick weekend trip when I’m feeling homesick.
That was the reason for my trip two weeks ago. I just needed to feel the comfort of being home.
I broke up with my boyfriend, Philip. We had dated for over a year, and I couldn’t picture him in my life anymore. I drove over after work on Friday and spent the entire weekend playing cards with my parents and Ethan, walking on the beach, and drinking lots of wine.
I grab my bag out of the trunk of the car and begin my walk up to the house. On the southern side of the house sit three white piazzas—one for each level. These outdoor covered porches stretch the full length of the house and offer some much-needed respite from the summer heat.
Growing up, that third-level piazza was my sanctuary. While Ethan and Sam played video games, I could often be found in one of the lounge chairs, reading a book, sipping sweet tea, or playing Barbies with my friends.
I walk up the few short steps to the black door that faces the street, tucked under a small alcove. My parents always keep this door unlocked since it isn’t the real front door. This street door leads directly onto the first-level piazza.
Even though it’s October, it's still warm in Charleston. Making my way to the front door, the decor on the piazza hasn’t changed much. There are two wooden Adirondack chairs on the far end. White pots with red flowers sit on each side of the front door.
Walking to the midway point, I stop and stare at the black front door. I know I should walk in, but my legs won’t move yet.
I take a deep breath before testing the handle and find it locked. Pulling my keys out of my bag and inserting the correct one, I open the door and step inside. The house feels different; the air has been sucked out of it. Or maybe it’s just me?
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s 9:00 p.m. My parents are still at the hospital, wrapping things up there. This never-ending day is finally catching up to me, and suddenly I feel exhausted. I carefully step over the fifth step—avoiding the creak it makes—as I make my way up to the third floor, where Ethan and my childhood rooms are. My steps are slow, like I’m trudging through mud.
Twenty Years Old
“Come on, Kitty Kat.” Sam and I are quickly making our way through the mall. He’s basically tugging me behind him.
“Why are you walking so fast, Sammy? I thought we were just window shopping?” Sam just smirks down at me, his brown eyes twinkle, his light brown hair is slightly wet from the drizzle outside, but doesn’t answer my question. He tugs on my hand slightly, urging me forward.
By the time he slows his pace, I see we are heading straight to a jewelry store. I look up at him, trying to figure out what he’s doing, but he ignores my gaze.
He drops my hand as he walks straight to an area of the store like he knows exactly where he’s going. Slowly, I follow him but stop in my tracks when I see the section he’s standing in front of is full of engagement rings and wedding bands.
“Sam,” I say his name slowly, “what are we doing here?”
Finally, he looks at me, and I can’t place his expression. “I need you to help me pick out a ring for Claire.”
A ring.
For Claire.
The noise of the busy mall goes quiet, and I know Sam is saying something to me because his mouth is moving, but the words don’t register. I knew he was dating Claire, but I didn’t realize it was serious.
I mean, Sam was just holding my hand less than a minute ago.
He brushedmy hair out of my face as I was getting ready to leave my dorm. He has dinner with me almost every night. It felt like Sam spent nearly every waking hour with me when we weren’t in our respective classes.
When has he even had the time to spend with Claire?
My mind is reeling, and I feel my body go rigid when Sam places his hand on my arm. I try to focus on him again when I hear him, “Kat, are you ok?” Sam’s confident smirk from before is nowhere in sight. Instead, his expression is tight.
“Sam, I don’t—” understand? I don’t want you to marry her. What am I trying to say here? I can’t live without you.
Fuck.
“Please don’t marry her.” The words are out before I can think them over, and now that I’m speaking, I can’t stop, even when Sam drops his hand from my shoulder and shoves both into his pockets. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so long. Please, don’t marry Claire. Be with me. I… I want you to choose me.”
I drop my gaze from him when I see him look around us. I forgot we were standing in the middle of this stupid jewelry store, and now? All I want to do is leave, curl up in my bed, and forget this ever happened.
I take a step back, ready to bolt. I can’t believe what’s happening. I can’t believe Sam brought me here to help him choose a ring for someone else. I can’t believe I just confessed my feelings for him. But I had been so sure he felt the same way.
