He leans against the entrance to the gazebo and slowly loses his smile. “How are ya, Z?”
“I’m okay. But look at you! Another Super Bowl! Your career is already one for the history books.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the corner of his mouth twitches with the beginnings of a smile. “Yeah, but I couldn’t have done it without the wisest words spoken by a professional football coach.”
“Oh?” I ask, curious as can be.
“Throw the damn ball.”
I look down at my feet for a moment to escape the intensity of his green gaze. “I’m so happy for you.” It sounds flat, even to me.
“Thanks, football is all I have left. I might as well try to be good at at least one thing. I was a shit husband.”
“It wasn’t all bad, Bryant. Some of my best memories are with you. We were good together, until we weren’t.”
Neither of us says anything for a long moment. I’m lost in thought trying to figure out exactly when we weren’t good together anymore. Where is that moment in time when it changed?
“Thank you for remembering the good,” he says as he places a hand over his heart. “Thank you for remembering the love.”
What do I say to that? How do I respond to the perfect response?
“We should go back inside.”
“Listen, baby,” he says and points to the speaker in the gazebo.
Can’t Help Falling in Love with Youis playing over the speaker. A gasp leaves me as a chill takes over.
“Of all the places in the world, of all the moments in time, we both ended up here with our song playing. You know what I call that, baby?”
“Fate,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he whispers back. “Come dance with me, Z.”
I hesitate, consider him for a moment, and quickly decide I don’t want to let this moment pass me by. I strap the shoe back on my foot and stand from the bench. He waits patiently for me to make another move. I look down at my shoes and watch them move under me as I meet him in the middle of the gazebo.
His finger presses underneath my chin until I’m looking into his beautiful eyes. He takes my right hand in his and places them over his heart. And then he takes my left hand and drapes it around his neck before his free hand goes to my hip. We sway with each other, lost in another place of our making, and we let Elvis sing to us. The entire world disappears from my mind as we glide around the gazebo. All I can see, hear, smell, and feel is him. He’s everywhere, and for the first time in a long time, I just exist in this moment with him. I let it go. I let it ride. And I can breathe for the first time in ages.
I’m reminded of the first dance we had after we married, and the way the orchids and lilies smelled in my hand. The unshed tears in his eyes remind me of the way we were both moved to tears during our first dance. As the song, our song, comes to an end, the world comes crashing down around me. The cicadas and the other sounds of the night are louder than they once were. The music from the speakers also seems volumes higher.
And the bass of Bryant’s voice is deeper and reverberates through my core. “I love you, Coach.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat and pull away from him. “I can’t,” I croak.
“I know, baby.” He reaches for me as I step toward the entrance. “It’s okay.”
It feels like he’s telling me it’s okay to go, as if he’s giving me permission to run from him again. So I wipe my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk away. I duck through the venue and stay to the outside of the room until I escape to the front of the property. And I hold back what feels like a tsunami threatening to break loose at any moment. When I reach my rental car, I climb inside and fall apart.
— 33 —
Now
“ZHANNA, DO YOU STILL love Bryant?” Mary asks after Bryant finishes relaying the last two years of our estrangement during our session.
“Yes,” I say but offer nothing else. Admitting I still love him aloud feels both like I’ve lost the battle but also like I’ve shed twenty pounds of stress and baggage.
He reaches over and lays his hand on top of mine. “I told you at a previous session that I’ve stopped drinking. I have a one-drink limit at social events, never drive when I do, and I refuse to keep alcohol in the house. I know trusting me is hard to do, but I’m not where I was. I won’t ever make the same mistake again because I’m not going to drink and ever put myself in the same position.
“I learned through therapy I had a drinking problem that began around the time my dad died. When things got too tough, I turned to alcohol instead of dealing with it. I just thought I was having a good time, but when I got a blow job from a woman who wasn’t my wife, I knew I’d gone past just having a good time.”
