6
That evening, as I left work, I saw Jesse
waiting for me.
He leaned against his car, his expensive suit,
arms crossed, staring at the ground, lost in
thought. Twilight cast shadows on him, only
the slight breeze offering respite.
Lily squeezed my arm. “Don’t look back,” she
whispered.
I smiled at her. She sighed and left with her
boyfriend.
Jesse seemed to notice us, turned, and said
calmly, “Get in.”
I got into the backseat. He only glanced at
me, saying nothing.
We drove in silence. It felt strangely familiar.
As the surroundings became unfamiliar, I
asked, “Jesse, where are we going?”
He didn’t look at me, his voice cold. “Isn’t this
our weekly Monday dinner date?”
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Was it a promise from the past?
I muttered, “I don’t want to eat. Just take me
home. I’m moving out.”
He pulled over. He turned, his gaze full of
annoyance. “Sarah, how long is this going to
go on? I’ve memorized all your demands, isn’t
that enough?”
His words ignited my anger. I grabbed my bag
and threw it at his face.
“I’m not playing games, I’ve already divorced
you!”
His face darkened. He opened the window
and tossed the bag outside.
I was even angrier. “Jesse, pick it up!”
He laughed. “Do you think I’m your dog,
Sarah? Do you think you’re some spoiled
princess?”
Slap!
I slapped him across the face!
Silence fell in the car.
<
Jesse’s eyes widened, one cheek reddening.
He hadn’t expected that. But the slap brought
us both to a standstill.
“Jesse, marriage is about two people. It’s not
a chain, nor your so–called… demands. It’s a
home we share,” I said. The hole in my heart.
ached, though I was the one who slapped
him.
He turned to look at me, silent.
Unfamiliar memories flooded back,
overwhelming me.
I suddenly remembered Jesse sitting in front
of me in high school, often looking back at
me, his eyebrows raised, his smile full of
youthful arrogance.
He said, “Sarah, at the baseball game this.
afternoon, could you just call my name?”
He said, “Sarah, can I call you on the first day
of snow?”
He said, “Sarah, you look so cute when you
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frown while doing your homework!”
He said, “Sarah, run boldly! Wherever you are,
I will catch up with you!”
The eighteen–year–old Jesse always seemed
to be bathed in light, standing in the breeze,
smiling at me, lost in darkness.
He liked calling me Sarah. It made me cuter,
he said.
Eighteen–year–old me would always fall for
eighteen–year–old Jesse,
“But twenty–eight–year–old Sarah won’t fall
for twenty–eight–year–old Jesse.”
Jesse’s cheek was red and swollen, his eyes
filled with red.
I opened the door and left, unwilling to look at him again. In the car, his outstretched hand
trembled and fell.
It was the price time demanded of him.
I wouldn’t look back, and he didn’t deserve it.
That night, I moved out. He frowned. “So
<
eager?”
I ignored him, carrying my luggage.
“Every second counts,” I said.
He said nothing, silently turning on the
entryway light. As I reached the door, he
called out in a trembling voice, “Sarah.”
I stopped.
Jesse was proud, but his voice was almost
pleading. “What if… what if we go back ten
years… would you…”
The door slammed shut.
