I was sitting in a two-of-a-kind candlelit table by myself- once again on my birthday. Three years,–three no-party, one late husband who had always jutified. Yet that night I was done. I said to him: it turned out… and I really believed it–until I was sh0cked to find out the truth which had been concealed in him.
The booth in the corner was isolated, right as I wanted it. Not too far-off noise, yet near enough the window to watch the world pass along.
The walls of brick emitted a sort of a rustic silence, of as though they were keeping secrets.
Old jazz poured down out of the speaker in a soft slow way, and I wondered how I used to like that joint.
The waiter already had visited twice. Every time he asked me kindly with a smile whether I was ready to make an order. I had said always, Only a little longer.
However, the third time that he was back, his smile has changed.
ma-m-m” said he, a-ready to order, ma-m-m
I simply stared at that empty seat.
and then I was surprized, and made an awkward kind of smiling which did not reach my eyes, and I told him I was going off soon.
He nodded, and retreated with a gentle dignity, and I could sense it–the pity that lingered to fill the air where some sort of an orgy ought to have been.
I put away my place-napkin with special care, as though it depended upon the carefulness.
I went by the tables that were couples clinking glasses, laughing low, lost in each other.
“Sarah!”
I froze.
I knew. And there it was, mark. My husband. His tie all bent, his hair blown about, out of breath.
So sorry, I am, said he.
It was busy and I–”
No, said I.
It is not a chance to do it again.
“I tried—”
You have tried three years, Mark. Three birthdays. Every time when you were busy, or late, or forgot. I’m done.”
I ought not have done it–”
I couldn t care less. I broke my voice
I am your wife. I am worth more.”
He turned aside.
You will have divorce papers the first thing tomorrow morning, I said.
And there I scurried my heels clicking upon the brick sidewalk. He did not observe that. Simply stood there–standing solo in an advertisement lamp.
It had quieted down again in the new world in 2 weeks time when the divorce papers were signed and sealed.
On the same afternoon I was doing laundry, sipping aid coffee when a knock echoed through the house.
The door was opened where stood none other than Evelyn, mother of Mark.
She appeared to be different.
Her hair was wind-crimped, her face, always tight-set with pride, was drawn and soft like that of someone bringing in something heavy.
I am not your favorite person, said she.
And I guess you do not want to see me. but I must reply.”
We were sitting in front of the kitchen table like strangers in a bus stop. The clock was too noisy. I waited.
She hacked.
You were always, always, self-willed, she said. “Not easy. Strange, that I should never have believed you loved my son.”
I had, said I, monotonically.
She noticed Well, he loved you all right. Perhaps a queer sort of way of showing it, but still he did.
I gazed in my chipped mug. There were lots of opportunities given to him.
She did not make any arguments. Just took out of her purse a scrap of folded paper, and pushed it over the table.
You don t know something. I never imagined that it was my business but now… well now I think it would be worse to keep it to myself.”
I opened it out. It was a speech. Handwritten.
What short is this?
Either go and see. There is no necessity to speak to him. Would not even have to get off the car. Or, at least, you should know, but only: to anyone, at some time, you cared, just a little, about it.
The cemetery was calm excellent calm–too calm, as it were–quiet as the earth itself.
Oaks which grew along the pathway were tall, and their branches were heavy, and their leaves told secrets I did not want to know.
I paced slowly up and down the rows reading the names of unknown people, some here who perished young, some here who died old. Both of them with heartbreaks.
All the time my chest was paining me as someone was straining my ribs. then I espied it.
Lily Harper, October 12 th, 2010- October 12 th, 2020
I stopped. Chill seized me. My birthday. It had no lengthy message.
I was stuck, and I just needed to blink, then blinking could have read the inscription many times, as if 1h. However, it did not change. It never could.
and then I heard him.
What is the meaning of your being here?
I put myself slowly around. Mark.
He was dusty, too, in his jacket; and those soft brown eyes of his were drawn in, as though sleep had forgotten him.
he is saying, I did not expect to see you
I am not anticipating this, I said. Who was she?
He looked into the grave.
“My daughter. My first marriage.”
It was a Punch in the chest.
After another pause he added,–She was ten.
“Car acci:dent. Her mother and I, we just could not do it. Shortly after the funeral we were divorced.”
I was not able to talk. I did not know how to answer.
Somebody–he, I recommened, had left fresh flowers in a mason jar.
They were drooping a bit yet they were beautiful. and by their side A little, plastic crown.
The type that the little girls put on when they desire to be a princess.
Every year you came here? I asked.
He bobbed.
“Every year. It is her birthday.”
On the day of the year that I was born, I said.
I desired to have been with you. I tried. Yet I was not able to do both. I wondered how I was to glorify thee, in the midst of her. This was rather a betrayal. Of you two.”
It was humid, and the smell of wet earth and the dying sweet smell of leaves fell on it.
I stared at the ground a long time. There were too many things in my heart. After a long silence I broke through.
I thought you did not mind, I said.
Mark almost turned to me with an honest face.
He said, he never forgot you.
“Not once. Sarah, I loved you. I still do.”
I stared at his hands that lay in his pocket. I recognised those hands. They had formerly possessed my own over so many suppers.
They would turn up their speaker when we would dance in the living room.
They had pressed my back when we were taking a long trip in the car and grabbed me when we were watching a sad film.
I said you ought to have told me.
His gaze went round and then came back. He said, I was afraid.
You did not want to get away. I was scared that all would broke up, putting my foot in that door.
I did head solemn.
I think you need to have trusted me.
Yes I know, he said.
“You’re right.”
I heaved a sigh of relief, and looked up into the woods.
It is impossible to undo what happened. Nor yet can you. But maybe…” I paused.
He gazed at me, and I saw a change come in his eyes. Something soft. Hope, maybe.
I mean I am not saying we backtrack to things were, I said.
Or, perhaps, we make an effort. At the very beginning. No lies. No silence. No secrets.”
Mark went through several blinkings and smiled sufficiently carefully. I wish I could, he replied, hardly in audible terms.
I nodded. and then we make the attempt.
We stood on the grave of Lily together and frozen in coats side by side, Mark and me, with our breath coming out in little puffs.
The trees rustled in the wind all around us and the gold, red and brown leaves fluttered thru the grass.
I crouched down and laid out on the floor a little chocolate cake, only large enough to find room on it to mark something. Mark sat down before me, and laid a picture of Lily on the ground.
With the same plastic tiara that I had spotted months earlier on, she was beaming as wide as possible.
I felt my chest pinching, but not painful, in love. And of a girl I never saw, But bore about my heart.
So we would be quiet to each other a while, and then we went and ate in a quiet diner a little out of town. The location examined floors and hot coffee.
At the corner booth we made out an apple pie slice. The one where folk went to start afresh.
Mark produced a little, tidily covered box, out of his coat-pocket, and gave it to me.
it was your birthday present, he answered.
I opened it deliberately. her inside contained a gold chain and a small pendant in the form of the lily.
I began to cry. It is pretty, I remarked.
I won t miss another one, said he.
I know, I mumbled, I put my hand into his.
Owing to the fact that, we no longer hong only one life. Two we celebrated.
And the best thing is, we have done it as a team.