Fiona
LOVING MARTY WAS THE EASY part. Fighting my fears and insecurities was the hard part.
Marty was patient with me. He didn’t get annoyed with my warped view on relationships. Opening up to him about my parents had helped him understand why I didn’t understand falling in love. When he thought I was unsure about something he went out of his way to reassure me.
Which made the fact I was currently going through his private things wrong. It wasn’t like I intentionally walked in here to snoop. Marty had gone to work this morning and he didn’t wake me when he left. The apartment was empty and quiet. Marty had left a mess last night after cooking dinner because we were distracted for hours afterward. I wanted to throw on one of Marty’s tee shirts to clean the kitchen.
Smiling at the memories of last night, I stepped into his closet naked and relaxed. Marty hung all of his clothes. Even his tee shirts. I’d teased him about his organized closet. It was color coordinated as well as separated between casual and dress clothing. I envied his ability to keep everything so neat.
Walking over to the tee shirts, my toe kicked something under the pants that hung on the bottom rack. I bent down to fix whatever I had messed up in his orderly space. It was a shoebox. The photo of his ex-girlfriend was lying on the floor by the lid I had kicked off. Putting it back and closing the shoebox was what I should do. What a nice person would do. But I didn’t do what I should have done.
Instead, I sat down on the floor of his closet and pulled the shoebox toward me. Staring down at it I saw movie ticket stubs A napkin that appeared to have lipstick on it. Some photos. A few letters. And a small gold ring with a tiny diamond in it. Or what looked like a diamond. I reached into the box and picked up the photos. There were several of them in photo booths kissing, making silly faces, and smiling with their arms wrapped around each other.
She had worn a pink dress to their prom. She looked like an angel with her pale blonde hair floating in waves down her shoulders while she smiled adoringly up at Marty who wore a tux. My chest clenched with each memory he had saved. I wanted to open the first letter but couldn’t. Not because it was an invasion of his privacy which should have been why I didn’t read them, but because I was afraid. Knowing he had loved before me was difficult. I had only loved Marty. There were guys before him, but none of them were important enough that I saved memory boxes from my time with them hidden in my closet.
If Marty no longer cared for Mary Grace then why did he keep these things? Was he honest with me about being over her? Why would he need to have these hidden? Why would he keep these things at all? Did he take the box out and look at the items? Were these memories he cherished?
Was I enough? Could I ever compete with her in his heart? I sat there staring at the box longer than I should have. When I finally put the lid back on the box and tucked it away like he had stored it, I stood. Walked out of the closet, I found the clothing I had taken off last night and dressed myself.
Walking past the kitchen, I found Marty had already cleaned up our mess from last night. I’d told him I would do it this morning, but he had done it anyway. I kept walking until I was out the door, locking it behind me. I went to my apartment where I didn’t have boxes of memories hidden.
Being angry with him seemed silly, but then it also felt like he had lied to me. If he was truly over Mary Grace, then why did he keep the box? Furthermore, why didn’t he hide it from me?
I could hear music coming from the living room. Chantel was doing her morning workout. I normally slept through this. Today, I decided I’d go for a run. Hoping she hadn’t heard me come in I made my way to my bedroom to get changed into my running shorts and tank. Pounding the pavement and getting outside would help. Pushing until I thought I couldn’t go another step had always helped me exhaust my errant thoughts. And I needed that more than anything now.
Going through someone else’s things never led to anything good. I knew better, but if I hadn’t snooped I wouldn’t have known how Marty felt. And what was with the ring? Had he proposed to her? They had been so young. We still were. Was he keeping the ring in case one day they got back together? Was I only the girl to make her jealous? To make her wish she’d never left him? Had I been so needy for love that I’d missed the signs that I was the rebound? Oh God. I was a rebound.
I pressed my hand on my chest and inhaled deeply. The sharp pain was unlike anything I’d felt. Why hadn’t I seen it? I sank down onto my bed staring at the wall. I gasped for the breaths I was having a hard time taking. He hadn’t been with anyone since Mary Grace. There was no time to get over her. The way he had sent her away when she’d shown up at his apartment and told me he loved me, it had been perfect. He had said beautiful things. Made me feel like the only thing in his world.
But that shoebox said more than any words could.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” Chantel stood in my bedroom doorway, slightly out of breath.
I couldn’t look at her. I was too busy trying to keep from falling apart.
“You okay?” she asked.
Was I? I didn’t think so. I couldn’t answer her.
“Fiona?” She moved toward me. “What’s wrong?”
How did I explain this? Saying it made it more real. It wasn’t my imagination after that. If I didn’t say it then it wasn’t out there. Right?
“Either you speak now or I’m calling Marty,” she threatened. “You look like you’re going to be sick or burst into tears.”
I didn’t want her calling Marty. I wasn’t sure I could face him. Did I shut him out? Act like we never happened? Should I tell him I’d dug through his memories of Mary Grace, demanding he explain them if he no longer loved her?
Dropping my head into my hands I managed to said, “Don’t call Marty.” Because I was sure talking to him was not something I wanted to do. Not yet. I needed time. I should run. I just couldn’t stand up.
“Then talk. Tell me what’s wrong.” Chantel sat down beside me. The mattress sank slightly from her weight. I could feel her there but I couldn’t look at her. “Did y’all break up? Because I find it hard to believe he’d be at work right now and not banging on that door if you’d broken up.”
We weren’t broken up, but is that where we’re headed? Was this the end? Did I want that?
“No.” My voice cracked.
“Ohmygod! Are you pregnant?” Chantel sounded horrified as she said it.
Lifting my head, I stared at her now. The ridiculous question was the beginning of more questions. I had to shut her up. “No,” I snapped. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you pale and appear to be on the verge of tears or some kind of break down?”
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and closed my eyes tightly before forcing out the words. “Marty has a memory box with things he saved as keepsakes from his time with Mary Grace.” The words were rushed as I blurted them out. I hated how it sounded.
“Did he show it to you?” Chantel asked sounding confused.
I shook my head. He definitely hadn’t shown it to me.
“Okay, then how do you know he has this box? Oh, jeez, Fiona, did you go snooping through his shit? That is a terrible idea.”
“I didn’t go snooping!” I replied defensively. “I found it accidentally.
Chantel cocked one eyebrow. “Really? Where was he keeping it? On his dresser?”
Frowning I shook my head. “No, in his closet.”
“That’s called snooping.”
I didn’t need a lesson on relationships from Chantel. She had no experience with anything real. Her last serious relationship, Kel, was a married man. “I was getting a shirt from his closet and kicked it over not seeing it.”
Chantel didn’t look convinced. “It’s memories from his high school years. You’re worked up about something stupid.”
Was it? I didn’t think so. “He was hiding it. That means something.”
Chantel stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Or he put it there months ago when he moved in and forgot about it. Because it’s not important. He’s been too busy with working, cooking for you, fucking you, and all that romantic shit and he forgot about the stupid box in his closet.”
When she said it like that, it made sense. Maybe he had forgotten it was there. If that was the case, the box wasn’t important. Although there was a ring in there. I couldn’t ask him about it because he’d known I went through it. But did I believe Chantel was right?
“I’m going for a run,” I stood and walked back to my closet to change. There were no hidden boxes in my closet. I wasn’t hiding anything from him or anyone.
“You’re screwed up about relationships. In your head, it can’t work. Stop looking for something to end it. You’re happy, Fiona. Accept that. Embrace it. That box is something he forgot exists. When he remembers, he’ll get rid of it.”
She was right about me being screwed up. Was I trying to find reasons to sabotage us? Was I that broken?