A Short Story

She toyed with his left hand as she had done so a thousand times before. The feel of the cold ring on his finger against her warm skin reminded her of the promise he had made not too long ago – a memory she was far from forgetting. The realization of her decision dawned upon her as powerful and sad as it had been when it first played on her mind.

Fair, she thought. I’m just being fair.

She looked at his face and for a second thought she saw a sliver of disappointment. A wave of panic ominously threatened to engulf her as she forced herself to smile.

He can’t have known, can he? She quickly dismissed the thought as she played with the gold band on his finger. She knew he couldn’t have known what she was about to tell him. It was done ever so carefully. She loved this man, and it pained her to know how much this was going to hurt him.

“Boo, are you getting vanilla or chocolate milkshake?” she asked, knowing full well he doesn’t like milkshakes. He used to say he never even liked them when he was a kid. Too cold, too sweet.

“Iced tea na lang,” he said, completely ignoring her intentional blunder. She glanced at him just to check if she would see the disappointed look once again. It wasn’t there.

She opened her car window and spoke into the metal receiver, “One large fries, 1 iced tea and 1 vanilla milkshake please.” Almost instinctively, his hand freed itself from hers allowing her to shift gears.

As her car approached the drive-thru window, he turned to her and whispered almost apprehensively, “Is there something wrong?” His eyes filled with worry.

So he noticed.

“I can’t do this anymore, Boo…” she started. She was careful not to meet his eyes.

“Can’t do what?”

“This… Us. I just can’t anymore.”

She had kept her car window open to let the city noise drown their conversation. She reached out to the counter to pay and get their order, which they both knew will be left uneaten anyway. He obligingly took the bag she handed over to him in silence.

“Maybe you’d like to park the car.” It wasn’t a suggestion. She hated it when he uses that tone of voice. Yet she knew it was she who’s at fault and reluctantly decided to follow.

“Why?” His voice dropped to a minimum as if trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to contain the apparent anger rising inside him.

“You have a wife and kid, and you know how unfair this whole thing is to them. They deserve better than this.” She paused. Quietly, she continued, “I deserve better than this.”

He shook his head and it appeared as though he would contest her plea. “Ok.”

His look of sadness lingered for a moment before he left and closed the car door behind him. He slowly walked toward his own car, a few parking spaces away from hers. Tears trembled upon her cheeks and hesitantly caressed the corner of her lips as she watched him drive away. Her heart felt the harsh emptiness as if it were suddenly, cruelly drained of blood.

The digital clock on her dashboard glowed in the glaring darkness.

It was time to let go.

Her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“I miss you…”