One notification hijacks my attention. A green banner marks the day in question. I don’t have to click on it to know what it says. It’s a day seared into my memory.
June thirteenth is my wedding day. Oliver and I were supposed to send out invitations this week to our closest friends and family. It’s a small victory that we didn’t, but most everyone close to us already had the date saved. I know, and I can feel my insides tightening with anxiety.
The wedding was called off two weeks ago.
Afterward, I thought I’d feel different. Maybe I’d look at myself and see a changed person. Truthfully, I don’t think about it at all, until some little reminder—a generic marking on a calendar, for example—appears, and my sorrow reignites.
Oliver.
The moment I first met him plays in my mind, like a skipping record. I was at one of my best friend’s infamous rooftop parties.
I drifted away from the others, transfixed by the endless glimmering lights in the distance. Above, the sky was speckled with a dozen dazzling stars, brushed with gray clouds, a full beaming moon peeking out from behind them. From that vantage point, the everyday stressors of the city seemed forgotten, as if I’d been transported to a new world, a different dimension.
When I turned to join my friends, I crashed into something hard, felt the piercing annoyance of wine splashing against my skin. I froze, my fingers splayed, watching as the burgundy liquid dripped down the front of my dress.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t see you.”
A man I’d never seen before stood in front of me. His smile was captivating. Charming yet layered with mystery, something worth exploring. The instant attraction was mutual—I could tell by the way his pupils dilated as he scanned my face. He took off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I said, inhaling his woodsy smell.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“It’s a white dress,” I said, assessing the damage. “It’s completely ruined.”
“Take my jacket for the rest of the night. Or longer.” He tittered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Oliver, by the way.”
“Tippi.”
“You’re Tippi. I’m tipsy,” he said, wincing in embarrassment. “That was a horrible joke.”
“It was.” And yet I was smiling, as though I’d stumbled into my very own meet-cute.
Oliver accompanied me to the bathroom to help me clean up. We spent the rest of the night talking, and the hours of the next early morning making love in this very apartment.
I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with him; now I fear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to forget what he did.
I absolutely hate this feeling. This sense of failure.
I walk across my empty living room, my gaze fixed on the windows in front of me. The glass panes run from floor to ceiling, providing an uninterrupted view of the New York City skyline. The familiar sight springs sadness. It’s not easy saying goodbye to a place, even if I’m convinced, more than ever, it’s time to start fresh.
I close my eyes, trying to imagine what the next adventure might bring, and my mind inevitably recalls what life was like when I visited Europe for the first time, the summer after graduation, bouncing around from one stylish city to the next, surrounded by pedestrians and sidewalks, cafés and cathedrals. I went with my closest friends, and we traveled beyond tourist traps too, visited towns with names most people would never recognize, where we’d cultivate the best memories.
I imagine being there again. Undisturbed coves in the early morning sunlight, lavender fields swaying in an afternoon breeze. A sense of peace falls over me. I’m on the precipice of being back to the woman I was before I made the mistake of trying to tame myself.
The woman I was before Oliver took everything from me.
3
My cell phone buzzes,grounding me back to reality. I reach into my jacket pocket and check the screen. Ava is calling, the friend whose rooftop party introduced me to Oliver.
“Don’t hate me,” she says.
Never a good way to start a conversation. I could tell her about the chaotic morning I’ve already had, that I chased a would-be burglar out of my apartment with a bat, but that would prolong my curiosity about whatever it is she’s devising. The excitement in her voice makes me want to know.
“Don’t make me hate you.”
She sighs. “I’m not handling the whole you-leaving-the-country-for-the-next-six-months thing well. So, I had an idea…”
