Free Riding Curves by Christa Wick Page B

box of tissues on my
bookshelf.
    When I could finally see straight, I
plucked the yellow Post-it note stuck to the top of the
package.
    Sorry! J
    I frowned, wondering what my now
ex-roommate Josephine had to apologize for. Looking at the plain
brown wrapping paper, the first thing I noticed was the date. Two
weeks old. I looked at the return address -- my dad's
shop.
    I scratched at the tape, not wanting
to open it and find a present from one of the other worker's at my
dad's work who merely forgot to put his name on the package. I
didn't really want to open it and find something from Aiden,
either. I wanted the box to magically disappear and take the memory
of its existence with it.
    That wasn't going to happen, so I
pulled the package to my chest and just held it for a few minutes.
The box of tissues was empty. If I started crying all over again,
it would be me and my sleeve.
    "It's not Aiden," I whispered to the
empty room as I peeled the tape away, my chest hurting from his
absence at the graduation ceremony. I repeated the assurance again
as I unrolled the brown paper.
    Then I saw the metal box the plain
brown paper had covered and knew that I was wrong. I didn't need a
return address, didn't need a card with his name on it. The last
thing I had looked at before leaving that hotel room so many months
ago was the small metal box sitting atop the other gift box on the
dresser. It had hurt so bad seeing the acid-etched butterflies as I
left. It hurt a hundred times worse seeing them again in my dorm
room.
    I lifted the lid, pretending to myself
that I really was admiring the smooth edges of the box until I was
ready to look inside. Silk colored the same creamy white as the
roses that day cushioned a metal pin shaped as a
butterfly.
    A flutterby…
    I put the box with its pin untouched
on the floor and returned to crying.
    ********************
    It took a few more hours, but I
finally pulled myself off the bed and loaded my car. That fuck in
the hotel room hadn't been our good-bye. And I wouldn't let the pin
be our good-bye, either.
    I didn't reach Aiden's house until a
few minutes past 8 pm. Then I spent another fifteen minutes staring
at the purple PT Cruiser in the drive. Another girlfriend,
probably. He'd had at least two flings since the start of the year.
Only maybe this one wasn't a fling, maybe she was
permanent.
    Closing my eyes, I took a few slow
breaths, reconciling myself to the fact I was about to be
humiliated in front of a woman I didn't know. She might never
realize it, either. But I wouldn't wait for her car to leave the
drive, didn't want the confirmation of whether or not it remained
overnight.
    Grabbing the metal box, I went up to
Aiden's door and knocked. He opened without looking, then froze
when he saw me.
    "This is unexpected, Cecelia." He
looked at the box in my hand. Taking a step back, he gestured for
me to come inside.
    I entered cautiously,
expecting some negligee-wearing woman to pop out and yell Surprise! Instead, I
found an attractive woman somewhere in her late thirties sitting on
his couch with a portfolio of some kind open on his coffee
table.
    Aiden stepped around me when I didn't
move beyond the entryway. "We'll need to finish some other time,
Rachelle."
    The smile plastered on her face
faltered. She managed to pull it up, tighter and brighter. "These
lake properties will have contracts by the end of the week,
Aiden."
    My heart, already pounding like a
jackhammer inside my chest, kicked up another notch. They were
buying a piece of property together?
    The room started to spin and I took a
step toward the door.
    "Cece." Aiden barked my name before
bringing his voice under control. He flipped the portfolio closed
and handed it to the woman. "Mrs. Deschaine is leaving. You're
not."
    He saw her out then locked the door
before hooking my elbow and drawing me across the threshold into
the living room. Letting go, he moved to the fireplace and stared
at me. When I remained mute, he folded his arms