“Not everyone changes as rapidly as you,” she told him acidly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
“Won’t you at least ask how I’ve been?”
“I couldn’t care less,” she said, and gathering her belongings, walked off without looking back.
Once she was a good distance away, Sarah released the breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. Where had this man come from so suddenly and why was he here? What did he want from her after so long? What was it that Mary had told her yesterday? “That man was a fiend!” Yes, that was what she had said. And Sarah had told her that now that he was gone, there was no point in talking about him. In fact, she’d been keener on watching Michael Schumacher on television rather than listening to her childhood friend. At least that was what she had told her. What she really wanted was nothing more than an explanation from Justin. She wouldn’t even blame him; she just needed answers. He’d been gone five years without a trace.
She had been aware of Mary saying something about Samantha to her, but she wasn’t really listening. She had had enough on her mind without having to worry about her best friend’s daughter. They had been at Sarah’s house. A cosy little place, conveniently located in Manhattan, but empty. Empty because there were no family conversations in the living room, no fights between siblings at the dining table, no lovers’ disputes in the bedroom. Empty because she was alone… Now. But she hadn’t always been alone. She had known, briefly, a similar bliss, a bliss she had shared with Justin. She had been shaken out of her reverie when Mary had touched her arm and she’d looked up guiltily, realising that she hadn’t been listening to her friend at all.
But all this was yesterday, Tuesday. Today, on Wednesday, everything had changed. Once again she was facing the same dilemma as she had when Justin had left her after three years of a steady relationship — without giving any reason — but this time, for coming back. She reached her flat and took some comfort in its familiarity. The advantage of being a freelance writer was that she could work from home at her leisure. She took a bottle of soda from the refrigerator and sat to complete the short story that she had begun earlier.
However, her thoughts began to wander. There was something that had struck her as odd when she had met Justin at the cafe, but she hadn’t been able to recollect what it was. Now she knew. She hadn’t waited long, but she remembered seeing that Justin had worn a jacket over a neatly pressed shirt. And Justin hated jackets. “Makes me feel claustrophobic,” he used to say. Moreover, the jacket had been draped over his shoulders, he wasn’t actually wearing it; and that had given him a careless, untidy look. If there was one thing about Justin, it was that he was never untidy. “A lot has changed since he left, the least of that being his dressing sense,” Sarah chided herself.
She tried to focus on what she was doing, but her mind strayed again. There was something about the way he’d sat at the table… “Stop it!” she shouted aloud to herself and called herself all kinds of a fool for worrying so much, and for a guy like Justin at that. She got back to writing the story and was able, by the end, to give Jason and Susan a happy ending. “How ironic,” she thought, “Jason and Susan… Justin and Sarah.” The thought brought a mirthless smile to her face. It was already touching seven o’ clock by the time she finished writing her story, so she left her apartment to grab a quick bite to eat. She knew she should stop eating out so much, but she was in no mood to cook today. If she could swallow a bite or two, it would be an achievement.
But on her way, she ran into Mary. “Hello there. Where are you off to?” Mary asked her.
“Just going to catch a quick supper.”
“No way are you eating out again. Come on home. Alex is out, we’ll eat together. You can meet Samantha as well, she’s been asking about her Godmother.”
Sarah hesitated only for a moment. After all, she hadn’t met the little angel in quite some time. Once at Mary’s house, Sarah decided to confide in her. By the time she finished telling her, Mary was purple with rage. “How dare he! The creep!” Sarah tried to get her friend to calm down, and wouldn’t have succeeded if Samantha hadn’t walked into the kitchen at that very instant and promptly planted herself in Sarah’s lap. After supper, Sarah waited till Samantha fell asleep, and left with Mary’s words fresh in her mind. “I don’t know why he’s here, but don’t let him near you. I can’t see you get hurt again.”
On reaching home, she started another story, and due to the fatigue of the day, fell asleep at her desk. She awoke directly late next morning and went to make herself a cup of coffee. But there was none in the house, so once more she headed towards the cafe to have some coffee and a decent breakfast because she had barely picked at her food at Mary’s. As she sat in a corner of the almost full cafe, Philip, the waiter, who knew her well by now, took her order. When he returned with it, he handed her a letter.
“A gentleman asked me to give you this, miss. He told me your name and asked me if I knew you and when I said yes, gave it to me and requested that I hand it to you whenever you came next.”
Sarah felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Did he say who he was?”
“No, I’m sorry, he didn’t say, miss.”
“Thank you, Philip.” Sarah tried to open the envelope, but her fingers shook terribly. Finally she managed to open it. “Dearest Sarah,” it began. Sarah drew in a deep breath, but read on.
Dearest Sarah,
I know you hate me, as you have every right to, for what I did to you was unforgivable. The only reason I am writing to you after so long, is because I couldn’t leave again without letting you know how much I love you. Because I do. I love you with all my heart and I couldn’t bear to let you think otherwise. If you cannot forgive me, at least try not to hate me.
Forever yours,
Justin
Sarah realised she was crying. And she was puzzled. What did the letter mean? Also, the handwriting was most definitely not Justin’s. Yet, somehow, it looked familiar. Suddenly she knew. She got up, payed for her untouched breakfast hastily, and, leaving a tip for Philip, took a cab to Mary’s house. She found Mary reading a book. “It’s funny, you know,” she said without preamble. “I just received a letter from Justin, but guess what, he’s not written it!” Mary blanched, but regained her composure quickly.
“Well, he must have had someone else write it. What does he want now?”
“Yes, he got someone else to write it. But who? And can’t you guess what he had to say? After all, you did write the letter for him!”
Mary tried to speak, but Sarah went on. “What’s going on, Mary? Come on, I know he’s been talking to you.” Sarah was glad Mary was alone at home. She wouldn’t have liked to confront her with Alex and Samantha around.
“Well… you remember Justin met you yesterday?” Mary asked Sarah.
“Am I likely to forget that any time soon?”
“Sorry, no, of course not. So did you happen to notice what he was wearing?”
“A pair of jeans, a shirt, silk, if it’s of any interest to you, and a jacket. But —”
“Yes. A jacket. And I know as well as you obviously do that Justin —”
“— Hates jackets,” Sarah cut in. “So?”
“You must have thought it rather odd.”
“Well, even if I did, what of it?” she asked, getting irritated by this mindless question and answer session.
“And did he shake hands with you?”
“No, he didn’t. He just came out of nowhere, was wearing a jacket, didn’t shake hands with me, pushed back a chair with his foot, and sat down on it! I’ve told you all there was to tell, but what in heavens has that got to do with —” Sarah stopped speaking and grew so white, Mary thought she would faint.
“Sarah, are you alright? I’m sorry, but he knew I am your best friend and asked me to write to you. He didn’t know anyone else. He came by early today morning. I was very angry when I saw him, but he dropped his jacket, and then… and then I knew.”
“What… how… when,” stuttered Sarah, unable to form a complete sentence.
“Two days after you left for Chicago to meet your aunt. He was at the factory when something went wrong with the machinery. He decided to take a look for himself and suddenly the machine he was examining started, and — Sarah?”
Sarah looked dazed. “Why did he leave? Why didn’t he tell me?” But she already knew why. He hadn’t wanted to see her hurt, and hurt she would be, by the thought of those arms never carrying all her shopping bags, of never holding her again, of… So he had decided to make her hate him by deserting her instead. He’d even sold the factory, and no one had known where he went. “Where is he now? I will kill him for running off on me like that,” she said, but she knew she would do no such thing. Again Mary looked uncomfortable as if she’d dreaded this question. “He said I was not to tell you about the letter, but we should’ve known you’d guess. He… he left, but he didn’t tell me where he was going either, I swear. I tried to stop him, but he — Sarah, Sarah! Wait, where are you going?”
But Sarah left the house, and, as if in a trance, walked to the river, the place that gave her solace. But today the river would do more than just give her solace. She touched her bag. Once she reached the river, she removed the thin, round metal object which glinted in the sun. She had always carried it with her, thinking she herself would be ready whenever he asked. She still carried it with her. But she wouldn’t need it anymore.
Entering this contest will give me a chance at winning an internship with Elle magazine, which is a leader in the field of fashion and beauty writing. I'm a student of mass media and have always wanted to be a writer. After having interned with one magazine and written for some others, this internship with Elle will only help me learn more and take my growth curve ahead. The internship will be help me grow as a writer and add to not only my portfolio, but also my confidence of being a writer, and I'm therefore keen on winning it!
P.S.: “Ugly Betty” sure is great inspiration!
