Just to Be Loved

 

His office door was open and I quietly stepped inside. I was thankful he was alone; sitting at his desk, intently focused on the papers in front of him.

I cleared my throat, “Well you got old.” I was joking with him, trying to ease back into the connection we once shared. They were the first words I'd spoken to him in over thirty years.
He raised his gaze and took me in, “Well you didn't.” It was almost a complimentary appraisal.
“That's not exactly right... but you've always had a few years on me.” I felt uneasy.

“Seventeen wasn't it?” He was shocked to see me but would never let it show. He almost smiled, and then caught himself. “What are you doing here?” He was suddenly agitated, just like the last time I'd tried this.

“I thought that would be obvious. How have you been?”
“I've been well, all things considered.” He was still wearing his wedding ring.

He didn't reciprocate my question; I wasn't surprised. He wasn't happy to see me.
What had I expected?
“I was only kidding Vernon, you look... you look really good.” I wanted to sound casual, this wasn't going well.
“That's the first time you've ever called me that.” He looked up at me, then back down at the papers in front of him.
“Yeah, it... feels weird now huh? Should I still call you Mr. Powers?”
He didn't answer, or look up. Maybe this was a bad idea.

It felt the same, this scenario; even though the environment was different. Back then, it had been a classroom, now it was a church office.
A lot had changed. I was an adult now, newly divorced and he was widowed for almost a year.

“So, I heard about Alice. I'm very sorry. I know that you... loved her.”

He smiled that same sideways smile and touched the gold band he'd worn ever since I'd known him. His eyes were melancholy, but there was still a fire behind them, only now little rows of wrinkles framed them. His salt and pepper hair had turned solid white. Thirty years was a long time.
Why had I waited so long? Marriage, kids... a life; but always memories of him and a path not taken.

He didn't look up, and continued sorting the papers on his desk, “Thank you,” he said with a tinge of sadness mixed with an emotion I couldn't quite place.
Maybe he knew how hard that was for me to say. She was not a nice person, at least she hadn't been to me all those years ago. But then, I had been in love with her husband. So maybe she'd had a right.
I had been young, but the love had been real. And nothing ever really happened. Not for lack of trying on my part; he'd had a hell of a reserve, he'd never touched me. He was a saint.

“Well, I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry for your loss. And I wanted, no I needed to tell you...” My voice trailed off. I wasn't so sure I could say what I'd come to say now.
He looked up. Finally. “Tell me what?”
There were tears in his eyes. Was he crying for her, or for me... or maybe for himself?
I paused. Too long. He looked down again.
No, I would not let this end badly. Not again. I walked over to him, placed my hand on his shoulder, then touched his cheek.
“I wanted to tell you that I love you. I have always loved you, and if you want to talk, or anything else, please call me.”
I handed him a scrap of paper with my cell phone number scribbled on it. He reluctantly took it, and I left before he could say anything.
I ran out of the church and across the empty parking lot. A repeat of the last time I had seen him; four years after graduation. Only I hadn't had the nerve to confess my true feelings then, I had only managed to tell him that I was getting married; then I'd ran away from him, just like today.
He had seemed cold and unfeeling, then and now, but I knew somewhere in his heart, he still loved me. He'd confessed it once, and it had held a sacred place within me for more than three decades. A love that could go nowhere, only to sit unattended, not growing, not dying; protected and hidden away from the world. And it was still there.

I knew I would never hear from him. He wouldn't call, and I wouldn't bother him again. I only wanted him to know that for thirty years, he had remained in a special place in my heart.

Maybe it was enough for both of us, just to be loved. And to know.

© Garden Summerland 2025 

Happy Anniversary

 

“What?” I asked in shock as he pulled away from me and grabbed his white polo from the bed, tugging it over his head.
“Oh, nothing.” He responded casually, then a little more direct, “Put your clothes back on.” He picked up my tennis dress from the floor and held it out to me.
“You're joking right?” He'd taken me aback, the last twenty minutes had been a fast foray into an exquisite passion that had been building for weeks. Now I was annoyed. I snatched the dress from his hands, and reluctantly put it on.

He touched my cheek with the back of his hand and sighed, “No I'm not joking, love. Your kid will be home in a few minutes, right? Same time every day? You knew we didn't have time to.... finish.” He seemed amused.

“Oh crap.” I grabbed his wrist & twisted it towards me to look at his watch.
Ariel. The bus would stop at the end of the driveway in about ten minutes, and she'd kill herself racing to the house.
If her father had bought her a car for her 16^th birthday like she'd wanted, she'd be working after school. Then I would have had hours to spend with Zack, my latest... instructor.
“Quit calling her my kid. It was a package deal.” I motioned my hand around the room.
“And it is a nice house. Plus, it's the only way I can afford YOU.”

He laughed then winked at me. “I think I'd better meet you out on the court. See you in half an hour?” He grabbed his racket and was out the door before I could answer.
I fell back onto the bed just as I heard the squeal of the school-bus brakes. I wanted to replay the afternoon in my head, but that would have to wait. At least my face was appropriately flushed, it had been a grueling lesson today, in more ways than one.
The front door slammed.

“Elise? You here?” That bubble-gum voice tinged with malice carried throughout the house.

I heard her bounding up the stairs towards her bedroom. I was two doors down.
“Yes, of course I'm here. Where else would I be?” I screeched it at her in my best wicked step-mother tone.
I heard her coming down the hall.

“Who was that in the back yard? Did daddy hire someone else to get you in shape?”
She popped her head in the room just to raise her eyebrows at me.

“That was Zachary Taylor. THE Zachary Taylor. He's going to teach me tennis, if you must know. And your father has never complained about my “shape”. You should mind your own business.”
I rolled off the bed and smoothed the pleats of my tennis dress and continued giving her the explanation she was waiting for. “Well dear, for your information, I got too hot on the court and came in to cool off. I felt queasy, so thought I'd best lie down for a while. I guess Zachary came looking for me. I thought I heard someone at the back door.”
She rolled her eyes. “As if... but you do look a little flushed. Be careful, you can get overheated quickly... at your age. ” She smirked and left, humming some childish tune as she retreated to her room. I was going to have to get rid of that little brat.

I spent the rest of the afternoon chasing balls on the court. I wasn't very good at this game. Of course, I wasn't paying much attention, I was lost in thoughts of exactly what I was going to do about the current situation. I was falling in love with Zack. That had never happened with any of the others. And now I was going to have to free myself from the albatross hanging around my neck. And his kid.
But I needed to hang onto the fortune I'd become accustomed to spending. I'd come up with a plan.

A few days passed, and I had had one too many pangs of conscience about Ariel, she was after all just a child. And pulling off one murder was iffy already. So I decided if I could just do the one, take out the husband, then Ariel would be easy to pack off to boarding school. And I would inherit almost all of the estate. I would set up a trust fund for the little brat; I wasn't a complete monster. She could have her share, no need to be greedy at this point.
I began watching true crime documentaries; listening to audio books and podcasts on serial killers, anything that could provide potential blueprints. It's a sick world; I realized that committing the crime was the easy part; getting away with it was another story. I was hopeful about that, I was pretty savvy. The big question was 'could I live with myself'?

I had that question answered within the week when I found two airline tickets to Fiji in my husbands suit jacket. Along with a note with lipstick prints and red ink hearts, “You will have the time of your life,” scrawled underneath them.

He was having an affair. And Ariel knew; I knew she did. All those judgey looks across the dinner table, the snide remarks about Zack. They were both laughing at me. Well I would have the last laugh.
I chose the date carefully. It had to be before our anniversary. No way I could fake it through another catered affair of congratulatory lies. That gave me two weeks.
And I needed an ironclad alibi. Nothing to do with Zack, that was already looking suspicious.
I'd been dragging my feet for the past week, and our 13^th anniversary was the next day. I knew he had something planned, and now, so did I. Only his was for show, and mine... mine was for real. Then I would play the bereaved widow to the hilt, that would be my show.

For now, I was carrying on the facade of the spoiled wife. Cooking lessons, Spanish, and today had been my first piano lesson. Unfortunately, my teacher was female, and she wasn't even attractive. I had hoped to make Zachary jealous.

It was after 6:30 when I arrived home, John was home already. Great.

“Surprise!” Fifty people sang in unison as I opened the front door.

John came rushing to my side with a bouquet of roses and an envelope in his hand.
“My love, Happy Anniversary!”
I stood with my mouth agape, trying to assess the situation. Tonight had been the night. And now....
I took the flowers and the envelope.
“Open it baby, I know it's something we've always talked about. We're leaving in the morning. Ariel packed for you.”
My head was swimming, and I felt faint. He slid his arm around me to steady me, “I know it's a shock, but we wanted to surprise you!”

My eyes scanned the room; Ariel was standing with Zack. They smiled and raised champagne glasses. I was going to be sick.
“Honey, we're going to Fiji! Janice put together a travel package, we'll be gone for a month!”
I had poisoned all of the champagne in the house.

The room was darkening, and I felt my knees give way. I fell before he could catch me and cracked my head on the marble entry way floor.
I was in the hospital for almost a month, most of it spent in a coma.

I would never know what happened.

 © Garden Summerland 2025