We had agreed to separate, knowing it was what's for the best for the both of us right now. Boston wasn't going to meet up with my family, especially not after our exchange. He was initially going to leave town. Our break was supposed to commence because it would hurt too much to spend time together, to delay the inevitable, that's what we'd said. Though we had agreed to that, promised each other a clean break, we did the exact opposite.
Boston stayed in town and I visited him every single day, cherished every last moment with him. I reveled in everything that was him. His scent. His touch. The sound of his voice. It was like I couldn't get enough of him, almost like he was a drug—I wanted to consume all of him before he was gone.
We had sex, made love, and even fucked, several times, getting every emotion out there. All the anger. All the sadness. All the love, but there was never enough of that. Even after we'd go at it, in an almost violent fashion, I could still sense his love for me. I could still feel it even when he looked like he hated me in the throes of passion.
We hadn't exchanged Christmas gifts like we said we would. Nothing turned out like we'd said it would, like we thought it would. Everything was the beginning of the end for us, at least that's what it felt like.
Instead of all the things we said we were going to do together in Boston, we'd stayed holed up in that hotel room. Endless hours were spent enjoying each other physically then I'd shower and go home. I never stayed the night with him, even though I so wanted to, because we both knew if I did we'd cling onto each other again. Our lovemaking was a life raft as it were, keeping our heads just above the surface until we separated.
When I'd come home late in the evening I could tell my parents knew something was wrong. They asked me what the matter was but I hadn't confided in both of them, just my mother. I'd told her that Boston and I were splitting up while I went overseas and she'd said how sorry she was. I didn't say much of anything after that, just that it's what's for the best.
Us separating is for the best. I repeated the words in my head like a mantra, as if trying to convince myself, every single time I'd come home. I'd lay in my bed and remind myself that the tears would fade. The impending doom residing inside the pit of my stomach would surely die out. It had to, right?
Maybe a divorce would be coming later. Maybe not. At this point I have no idea where anything is going. All I know is that by the end of January I will be living in another country. The second Boston and I part tonight I will be single for the first time in four years, regardless of my marital status. That's what we had agreed on.
I still don't quite know how to feel about it, because I feel so many different things. First, and foremost, I feel scared because my future has always revolved around someone else. Whether it was Carter or even Boston, I felt like my future had to meld with theirs. After the things that transpired between Boston and I, I'm beginning to realize that I should go for the future that I want, not what someone else wants. I think it's a good thing I'm going to learn how to be just me and figure out what I truly want, find out who I am and who I want to be.
I'm supposed to meet up with Boston tonight for the last time. I've been dreading the inevitable goodbye between us all day. I could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom much less do anything else. I blow out a deep breath as I grab ahold of my bedroom doorknob but before I can open it, there's a knock.
"Monica?" I open the door, revealing my mother on the other side. "This just came in for you. It's from Boston." She hands me a box and I feel tears prick my eyes. If he sent something to me like this that means he doesn't plan on seeing me tonight.
"Thanks mom." She starts talking but I close the door in her face, not wanting to hear it. I can't hold a proper conversation right now.
I head over to my bed and quickly begin opening the black box tied with a bow in the same color. Inside there's a card on top, my name is scrawled on the top in his familiar hand writing. I begin reading the words and feel myself immediately choke up.
"I know we said we'd get together tonight and say our goodbyes, but as a rule, I've never been one to say goodbyes. I don't want to say it because I know this isn't going to be the last time for you and I. I want to leave it where it was, in the hotel room, just you and I in each other's arms. That's what I want to remember when I think about you over the next few months. I don't want to say goodbye to you yet, I'm not ready to say it, Monica. So I'm not going to.
Here's to our next hello. I hope you enjoy the gift that should've accompanied your birthday gift. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, baby.
Love,
Your husband"
I hold the letter to my chest, hugging it to me. That's when I see a small box inside of the larger box. I tentatively reach forward and grab it. The box is so small I know it could have only one of two things inside. My heart races as I begin to lift the lid. Once it's open, revealing the expensive piece of jewelry inside, I feel my breath hitch.
It's an engagement ring sitting on the smallest of plush pillows. There's a large diamond, surrounded by a group of smaller ones, sitting atop a gold band, one that matches the band he had gotten me for my birthday. It's a full set now, one made for weddings. The ring and the band.
The tears start to flow down my face as I hold the precious piece of jewelry in my hand. With shaky fingers I slide it down to the proper place it belongs. When I hold out my hand, to inspect it's appearance, I let out a harsh sob.
He was going to give this to me as a Christmas present to make it seem more official, to make it more real. It wasn't just his impulse that made him marry me. No, this was Boston making sure I knew that he actually wanted to marry me, truly wanted me to be his wife.
I sit on the edge of my bed to process the new information because now we're separated. He's free to do what he wants and I'm free to do what I want. That was what we'd agreed on. No strings. No strings except the for the ones attached to my finger, wrapped around my wrist, and the one strung from my neck. So many little tethers, holding me to one place, one person, and I didn't care. They could stay on me forever.
✩✩✩
Many things have happened and yet nothing at all has. My heart still feels the same way, tattered with no tatted Elvis to help mend it in the way I so desperately wanted him to. I'd blamed my current state on jet lag when Mr. Haddix asked me if I was coming down with something.
No. I had all my vaccinations and my physical, everything was normal with me. The outside was perfectly fine but my insides were not. Boston had singed himself on my skin the last time we were together, he'd made sure of it. There was no scrubbing him off no matter how far away we are from one another. He made sure I'd be carrying him with me.
I check my phone thinking there will be a text from him, maybe a call, but as usual, there's nothing. Ever since he left me the present, I haven't heard a single thing from him, nothing. I grab ahold of the chain at my neck, the one that now holds both rings.
"Miss McCaslin?" Mrs. Rearick, actually. That's what it should be but I'd never legally changed my name. Everything is the same as before except it was irrevocably different. I am irrevocably different. "Miss McCaslin?" That's when I realize I'm just staring at him, unresponsive.
I clear my throat, "yes, Mr. Haddix?"
"I was asking what you wanted for dinner. There's a variety of—"
"Oh yeah, whatever." I hadn't even really heard the end of what he said but I watch him ask the handful of others whatever he asked me. I didn't really care. Once everyone begins to disperse so do I.
"Monica?" I blink back to the here and now, especially now that Mr. Haddix had planted himself right in front of me. "You've been off these past few days. I know you said it was jet lag but I'm realizing that it's not that." I suck in my bottom lip and gnaw on it, not knowing what to say to that exactly. "I don't mean to pry but I just recognize the symptoms of a broken heart."
Am I that obvious?
I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I, uhm, no. No, I'm fine."
His brow furrows and he gives me a sad smile, "is it because you decided to come abroad?" I wipe the stray tear that had came down my eye away. "You'll learn a lot from this experience. You should be proud of yourself for being academically sponsored. You're an extremely smart girl, Monica."
"Thank you, Mr. Haddix. It's just tough, you know?" He nods at me.
"It will get easier." He tries at reassurance but I don't think anything could be reassuring right now.
I let out a dry laugh, "yeah, I really hope so because it hasn't been so great." I don't know why I'm opening up to him but it feels good to open up to someone, even if that someone is my professor. "I'm just glad I have the opportunity to better myself with this. I'm really looking forward to it."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that." He looks me over as if deliberating something, "I know I'm a professor, and probably not your first choice of personal confidants, but if you ever need to get something off of your chest, I'm here for you."
"Thanks, Mr. Haddix."
"You're welcome. Dinner is in a half hour."
I nod my head at him and head to my room.
A/N:
Happy Tuesday!
What do you think is going to happen next/ in the future? Theories?