have to get to the airport. Our plane leaves at 11:15.”
“I really appreciate this …”
“It’s no big deal. Don’t cry.”
“I’m not … crying.”
“It’s okay. Calm down. It’ll all be all right.”
“Everything’s … so … e … motional … right … now.”
“I know. I know it is,” Lucy said, “as it always has been.”
The elevator doors opened. They followed the wheelchair tracks to the lobby. The taxi was still waiting for them.
WHEN RICHARD WEIRD WOKE UP and looked at the clock beside his bed it was 11:56. He studied the pillow beside him. It did not appear to have been slept on and he knew that she was gone.
Richard lay on his back and looked at the ceiling. It had just been painted cloud white. His wife’s absence provoked the same emotional response as the ceiling did. This made him feel shallow and flawed but also relieved. It made him feel safe.
Sitting on the edge of the bed Richard pushed his toes into the blue shag carpet. He took his cigarettes from the bedside table. He lit one. He inhaled deeply. It was halfway done when he stood up. The inch-long ash fell to the floor. Richard walked across the room and opened the top drawer of his dresser. Underneath his socks he found the purple bag with the yellow drawstring. He opened it and turned it upside down. Two wedding rings, and nothing else, fell out.
One of the rings was silver. It had been given to him by his first wife, Nancy Kensington. They were married in March of 2003, less than two years after the death of his father. Their union had lasted seventeen months. It ended primarily because he met Debra Campbell.
Debra gave Richard the other ring, which was gold, during a service conducted on August 5, 2005. This was the day his divorce from Nancy was finalized. From the moment they ran out of city hall and onto Queen Street, Richard felt himself drifting away. They stuck it out another ten months. Debra claimed that his emotional distance was a conscious decision and Richard had been unable to disagree.
He then, determinedly, stayed single for another three years. He married Sarah English, the woman who’d given him the ring that was still on his finger, on September 20, 2009. He married her believing that their love was forever. And every day Richard woke up beside his wife, he found himself a little more in love with her. This meant that every day he felt just a little more vulnerable to her. It was merely a consequence of time before, feeling increasingly unsafe, Richard began to pull away.
This had happened in all three of his marriages. It had happened with every woman he’d ever fallen in love with.
Richard switched the cigarette from his left hand to his right and put the knuckle of his ring finger in his mouth. Wetting the skin, he slid the ring off. He put it inside the purple bag. He put the two other rings back inside it as well. Then he drew the yellow drawstring and placed the bag underneath his socks. As he closed the drawer more ash fell to the carpet.
He was in the bathroom, midstream, when he noticed that something had been written in soap on the bathroom mirror. He flushed the toilet. He washed his hands. Then he read the message.
Richard:
I’m sorry but I’m leaving you.
I think you want it this way. I
think you still love me (OVER)
“Over?” Richard asked.
For several moments Richard looked at his reflection. The word sorry appeared to be written on his forehead. Then he opened the medicine cabinet. The writing, still in soap, continued on the inside of the door. The back of the medicine cabinet was white and so was the soap. Richard opened and closed the door until he found an angle that allowed him to read it.
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