Meredith

I drop Gabe at his truck in the empty church lot. I’m so confused, I pull away without catching whatever he’s saying as he waves goodbye. I need time. I need space. I need…to think. I have no place else to be, but can’t bear the thought of going back home to the bed we just shared, so I opt to drive. The morning is bright, and my sunglasses are no match against the strong sun, still low on the horizon. Not with this headache, anyway. My mind races, rolling through old memories of Gabe and of my life with Jeff.

The quiet beat of a song playing on the radio catches my attention. I thought I had shut it off when we left the house, but apparently, I only twisted the knob enough to turn the volume down. It’s a familiar tune and the melody has me tapping my thumb on the steering wheel.

Who is this? I turn the volume up to listen. Cindy Lauper? Jeez, I haven’t heard this in forever. At first, I’m happy to hum along, filled with nostalgia by the melody, but the more I actually listen to the words, the more relevance they seem to have. Time After Time. The lyrics hit me with a power I can’t describe. Is this a sign from the universe? It has to be, after everything Gabe shared last night while we stared up at the stars. His words echo as I drive.

For a long time, I didn’t see it myself, Mer. But when I finally began to understand what happiness is, I knew I wasn’t happy. I hadn’t been, not really…not since you.

Could he have meant it? Do people really change?

I’m not making excuses for the girls I’ve been with, but please try and understand. There was a reason I never got serious with anyone else. It’s not that they weren’t interested. I wasn’t. I was looking for something and…well, when I looked back I realized, it wasn’t about sleeping with every girl I met until I found the right one. I had already found her…and lost her.

You, Doll.

It’s always been you.

After hearing him say all the things I wished he realized before we broke up, coupled with the weight of a failed marriage and starting my life over at thirty-five, that last line did me in. Damn you, Gabe.

I don’t know, maybe it was the knowledge that we had the house to ourselves. I mean when is that ever going to happen again? Or maybe I was looking for a little comfort. Any port in a storm, kind of thing. Images flash of me on top of him. Of him behind me. Taking me.

And, oh my God, the things he said. He wrapped my hair in his fist, pulled my face to his and told me I belonged to him. Nibbled along my jaw, kissing the delicate skin beneath my ear. You’ve been mine from the first time we met. The words sent me over.

He claimed me as his. Thinking about it now spreads goosebumps across my chest.

The uninspiring wood sign for Prewitt Reservoir catches my attention. I have no idea what brought me down these roads, but the water’s up, so I decide to park and watch the birds on the lake for a while. I kill the engine and climb out of my car, slamming the door shut and startling a flock of geese. They take off, their little butts wiggling as they waddle away in terror, spreading their wings as they run, honking madly. I laugh and turn my face to the sun, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. The warmth feels good. Even if I am standing out here in my fuzzy slippers.

I sit and stare at the glimmers of light glancing off the lake. Draw my knees up to my chest and let my thoughts wander, hoping they’ll just go right ahead and wander themselves into an order that makes sense. Alas, they do not. I wait patiently, as long as I can stand, before my stomach demands attention. I need hangover food. And soon.

I quietly say my goodbyes to the scenery as I pull away. No magical epiphanies today—at least none yet. I head north towards Sterling, hopeful to make it to Burger King before they stop serving breakfast. Diet be damned, right now I need a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit and some hash browns. Oh, please let them be fresh. And hot. And crispy. My mouth is watering, and my foot is as heavy on the gas as I dare.

* * *

I sit alone at a table regretting my slipper decision as I scarf my breakfast down and watch the people bustling in and out. A man struggling to control a young boy and girl at his side catches my attention. The children can’t be more than four or five years old. I don’t pick up everything he’s saying, but I clearly overhear him bargaining with them, reiterating that they have to promise to behave for the rest of the trip if they want to get meals with the toys. I wonder about the family. Where are they off to? Is it a family vacation? Will I ever have that? Once upon a time, it seemed inevitable. Now, it feels like a dream. The details continue to fade with each passing hour.

I always thought I would have that by now. For a moment, I let myself daydream about having that with Gabe, but then shake my head. What’s the matter with you? Gabe is a child himself, how could he be a dad? I know the thought of a family with Gabe doesn’t make sense, but I don’t have the energy to fight it, so I let it linger for a while, regardless.