ansley: forever and always
Itry not to consciously think about that night. So maybe that’s why I dreamed of it so often, why I woke up in a cold sweat that I did the wrong thing, made the wrong decision, picked the life behind door number two instead of door number one.
Carter and I married in late December, after Christmas and before New Year’s, giving everyone something to look forward to during that dark and gloomy time when it feels like there’s really nothing to celebrate. It would have made sense for us to marry in Peachtree Bluff, the place we had met. It would have made sense for us to get married in Athens, in my home church, and have the reception in my own backyard. But Carter and I decided to get married in Manhattan, at a chapel we had stumbled upon while we were spending a lazy afternoon meandering through the city.
Our wedding was an affair to remember, to be sure. But in a lot of ways, that day was tainted for me. I spent years lamenting how unfair that was. I spent years lamenting it, that is, until I went to Jack to ask him for the most unthinkable thing I could imagine. Then I realized that life happens as it should, always, even the less desirable parts. Once I asked Jack to father not one but two of my children, the fact that he had almost broken up my wedding was put very much into perspective. And I knew for sure that had he not come to me that night, had we not made the promises we made, I never would have gone to him when it seemed like I was running out of options.
I was staying at the Plaza that night, a wedding gift from Carter. We had lied to our parents that my apartment had been sublet quickly, so it wouldn’t appear that Carter and I had been living together for months. They would have had a stroke.
The night before the wedding, everyone was already asleep, and I felt anxious. I was thrilled to marry Carter. I knew we loved each other. I knew the life we would have together would be as perfect as a life could be. But I had so much nervous energy all the same. It was a cold night in New York, and I watched the snow falling from my window, congregating in slow circles around the streetlights and melting as it hit the sidewalk. Suddenly, I had the strongest urge to be outside in it. So I bundled myself up in my grandmother’s fur, the one she had loaned me for my wedding day, and made my way down to the now-quiet lobby. The street outside, which was normally bustling, was calm. No well-heeled women rushing in and out of Bergdorf Goodman. No tired parents corralling screaming children out of FAO Schwarz. No cabs honking and screeching their way down the street.
It was an enchanted night, one from a fairy tale, so much so that when I looked down the street and saw him, I wasn’t even surprised. Head down, hands in his pockets, Jack looked at me. When my eyes met his, he lit up like the tree in Rockefeller Center. I didn’t bother to move, just stood there in front of the steps, the revolving doors with thePon them quiet for the moment, taking time off from the relentlessswish-swish-swishthey made all day long.
I should have put my hands up to stop him, because I knew what was coming. I could tell by the look in his eyes, by the way he walked toward me steadily, with such intention. Maybe it was that I wasn’t prepared. Maybe it was that I didn’t want to stop him. Maybe it was that I wanted to pretend, at least to myself, that what was happening wasn’t something of my doing.
He looked so handsome that night, the way the streetlights cast a glow on his face, the snowflakes collecting in his eyelashes. When he scooped me up in his arms and kissed me, I didn’t pull away from him. I relished the way his hands felt on top of the fur of my coat, the way his mouth was so warm in contrast to the freezing air. I memorized how the snow fell around us, how, to the few passersby, we must have looked like reunited lovers in a romantic film.
And in some ways, we were. Only, this was a tale bound to end tragically, star-crossed lovers, missed fates, bad timing. Yes, when it came to timing, this was quite possibly the worst. It was hard for me not to take it as a sign when I asked, “How did you know I would be here?” and he replied, “I didn’t.”
I laughed then. “You didn’t know I was here?”
He brushed the snow off my hair. “No, I had no idea. I’m here for work.”
“You’re not serious?”
I remember then how he leaned forward, how he kissed the space under my eyes, first on the right side and then on the left. “How I have missed you, Ansley. I think of you every single day.”
I smiled sadly. I’d never worked up the courage to pick up the phone to call Jack and tell him I was getting married. I knew I needed to tell him now, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Walk with me?” he asked.
I nodded. I remember how warm I felt inside that mink, how I knew I shouldn’t let Jack hold my hand inside his coat pocket, but I did anyway. The entire night was alive. I was swept away by its magic. It felt like a wonderful dream.
We walked for blocks and blocks before stepping inside a bar. We talked that night about politics and love, about work and family, about where life had taken us and where life would lead. And it wasn’t until Jack said, “Come home with me, Ansley. Come back to Georgia,” that I said, “I can’t, Jack.”
Then he had winked at me, setting his frosty mug on the table, and said, “Then at least come home with me tonight.”
I hate to say that I thought about it, that I had a moment where I wondered what harm it would do. No one would know. We could have one last night together. But then I thought of Carter and how I loved him so. I thought of how he had asked me to be his wife and I had said yes, how he had given me this whole life that I never would have dared to dream of, helped me to blossom into a woman who was fearless and forward-thinking. I wouldn’t give that up. I wouldn’t give him up. Not even for Jack.
That was when I took both of his hands in mine and said, “Jack, I don’t know how to tell you this.” I remember how his face fell even before I said, “I’m getting married tomorrow.”
I braced myself, prepared for him to ask why I had let him hold my hand, why I hadn’t mentioned a thing until that moment. But I think I had forgotten then how well this man knew me, how close he was to the very core of me. Because, for better or worse, it is those who love us when we’re young who will always understand us best. The ones who remember how carefree we were, how we sang with abandon when we sipped PBR on the beach all day and danced by the light of the moon all night, our feet splashing in the ocean. The ones who knew us before the world got its hands on us and told us who we should be.
Jack knew the real me. He knew that girl I had been, that girl I had loved being. So he didn’t ask me any of that. Instead, he asked simply, “Do you have to?”
We both laughed then, because how was I to answer that question? Did I have to? No. Would I? Yes.
“I’ll be honest,” I said. “I can’t help but ask myself if this means something, if your showing up here isn’t some sort of sign.”
“It is most definitely a sign,” he had said, taking a sip of his beer. “If you want to know my opinion, it’s a sign that you should call off your wedding, come home with me, and never look back.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Or at least a sign that you should have one last night of single, mind-blowing sex before your life is over tomorrow.”
I laughed so hard that my stomach began to hurt.
“Hey!” he said, feigning offense. Then he smiled. “Is there anything I could say to make you change your mind?”
I thought about that for a minute. Sitting across from me was a boy I had loved, one who had taught me what it was to feel happy, to feel that jolt of electricity when his hand touched mine, who was the very first person to ever put his lips on mine. Could I ever replace that? No. Was I sure we could have had a happy life together if I hadn’t found Carter? Yes. But Ihadfound Carter. And loving him had changed everything.
So I shook my head.
