They say that hindsight is 20-20. I suppose that is true, but now and days it seems like such a pointless statement. Maybe, had I looked a little closer, just maybe I could have seen the signs. Maybe I couldn’t have; w ho knows. What is done is done. The only thing that I can be certain of is that , in spite of the tumultuous journey that we took, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
The whole trip to the Caribbean had been a last-minute sort of thing. My best friend, Ari, had badgered me into tagging along after she went through a rough break-up and couldn’t cancel the vacation. I was barely able to talk my boss into giving me the time off of work, and that was the easy part.
Back at home in a little apartment that I shared with my on-again, off-again boyfriend, Chris, a storm was brewing. You see, Chris and I had been involved in our strained relationship for a grand total of almost eight years. We had our ups and w e had our downs, but things really began to go south about a week before Ari sprung the vacation on me. We had been in arguments of varying types and volumes over that week and they seemed to be growing on both ends as time wore on. I loved him, don’t get me wrong. I think that the both of us had just been left to question whether our waning love was going to be enough to overcome the fact that we just didn’t get along anymore.
When I got home and announced my intentions to bail for a week, I put into motion a series of events that would change the path of my life.
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“What the fuck, Sophie?” Chris groaned and threw his magazine onto the glass table.
I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the garage door that I had just come through, “So what’s the problem now?”
The really unfortunate thing was how good he looked when he was angry. His pale skin would get flushed and his wide jaw would tense up. He wasn’t in the best shape but it had never really mattered to me. I had always been attracted to his personality which, over time, h ad really started to lose its luster .
He rubbed the top of his head, messing up his thinning hair, “So you expect me to stay here alone?”
I chuckled without thinking, “Aw poor baby has to entertain himself.”
He was furious by that point and jumped up from the table. His chair shoved back and hit the wall behind him.
“ Why is everything always about y ou?!” He scowled with a finger pointing at me.
I crossed my arms, “What the hell are you talking about? I’m going on a trip with a girlfriend. I work my ass off every day and-“
Chris threw his hands up in the air, “Here we go again!”
“Oh god,” I muttered to myself, “what now?”
“Are we going to start this argument again because I can’t find a job?”
My arms dropped to my sides, “No, not really.”
My words didn’t seem to register with him.
“Because if we are then I can just fucking go now.”
By that point I had just about reached my limi t on the amount of bullshit that I was equipped to take after a long day on my feet. My job as a waitress had been stable over the years and the tips were good, but it wreaked hell on my body. By the end of every shift I would limp back to my ancient hatchback Corolla and sink into the worn down seats for a good fifteen minutes, trying to shut out my screaming back and feet.
I watched Chris for a moment in silence. His breaths were heavy and short. He was so angry, even more than usual. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more going on than I knew of. Was he up to something? Was he cheating? Did he just feel flat-out guilty about something? There was no way for me to know. I worked all the time and he stayed home while he searched for acceptable work. The guy had a lot of time on his hands and, when it came down to it, I was really in the dark when it came to how he spent it. You’d think that after almost nine months of searching something would have come
John Warren, Libby Warren
F. Paul Wilson, Alan M. Clark