Page 51 of When I Come Back
I have never spoken to him like this in the five years we’ve known each other. His posture deflates, and his face transforms to one of hurt and resignation. He gives me a small nod.
We’re spared any more awkward silence when the jeweler comes back and places a black velvet display tray in front of me. He then places the ring from the paper I handed him in the center. I pick it up to inspect it closer. It’s perfect. It looks like a small sun with a bright yellow diamond in the center. The color reminds me of Thea’s hair at the end of the summer when it catches the midday light.
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I look at it. I glance up from the ring in my hand to the man behind the counter, “I’ll take it.”
I’ve spent most of the day preparing for tonight. After taking Thea to get a dress under the guise that it’s my first night at the new job, I rushed over to the restaurant to prep for the dinner service and set up the proposal. In reality, I’m starting tomorrow, and my boss, Michael, has been helping meplan and execute this proposal for weeks. Now, I’m waiting anxiously for her to finish getting ready so we can head out. The blue velvet box is burning a hole in my suit jacket pocket. I feel restless and jittery and excited. I shake out my hands trying to expel the excess energy.
My phone rings with Michael’s name on the display.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” he says. “Just wanted to let you know everything’s set. We have the front room closed up for you until seven-thirty. I’ll have your guests in the back room waiting to congratulate you. You ready for this?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say with a smile. “Thank you again for doing all of this.”
“Oh, no sweat. I’m excited for you, man. Just remember, I have to open up the front at seven-thirty, we have reservations,” says Michael.
“Got it. See you soon,” I reply and hang up.
Just as I’m slipping the phone into my pocket, Thea walks out, and all breath leaves me. She looks stunning. The dress she picked out accentuates all of her lines and curves, and the burnt orange color gives her skin a warm summery glow. It has long flowy sleeves, a plunging neckline, and a side slit that comes all the way up to her hip, all of which combine and leave my mouth dry. She’s wearing her hair down, and my fingers itch to run through the strands.
Fuck.If I didn’t have twenty-five of our closest friends waiting, I’d propose right here and now, then take her to bed until the early hours of the morning.
Somehow I manage to pick my chin and tongue off the floor and clear my voice before saying, “Wow.” That’s it. That’s the best I’ve got.
She gives me a coy smile, kisses my cheek as she steps around me and throws over her shoulder, “Chop, chop, Chef. We’re going to be late for your big night.”
Once we’re in the car, Thea turns to me and says, “I’m worried about my mom. She didn’t call me today, and I haven’t been able to reach her. I asked Barbara to pop over to her house to check on her.”
“Oh, Lem, I’m sure she’s fine. She knows how big tonight is, she’s probably just giving you space to enjoy yourself, especially since you’ve been so nervous going into this,” I say.
I had invited Lydia to join us tonight when I called to ask for her blessing. She was excited for us but said she wouldn’t be able to make it due to work.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She nods, but I can tell she’s in her head as she bites at her thumbnail, staring out the car’s window.
The car ride is short, and as soon as we’re pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot Thea’s phone rings. Her hands shake as she answers. I listen to Thea’s side of the conversation, hearing only snippets of what Barbara is telling her:come home, broken ankle.
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll get a flight out as soon as possible. Thank you, Barbara. Thank you so much,” Thea says and then hangs up. We sit in silence for a few moments. I know what she’s going to say next, and my stomach is in knots.
Thea turns to me. “I’ve got to go home. I’m so sorry.” I try to talk her out of it, trying to salvage the night, citing that her mom’s injury isn’t serious, and it can wait til morning, she’s in good hands.
She’s leaving. I’m about to propose, and she’s leaving.
For some reason this moment feels big. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, it’s not like she’s turning me down, rejectingme. But it feels like the tectonic plates of our relationship are shifting, and I’m at their mercy, just along for the ride.
We exchange a few more passive aggressive snipes at each other, not outwardly fighting. She’s already almost crossed a line by bringing my own mother into it, and I know if we both stay in this car much longer, it will devolve into another blow-up. She’s not even looking at me, instead her eyes are trained on her phone, looking up last minute flights. She’s not seeing my eyes well. I usually have a better grip on my emotions.
“You’re really doing this?” I rasp out. She checks the time and then meets my eyes.
“You should get inside. I’ll call an Uber.” I open my mouth to say… something. Maybe it was going to be “I’ll come with you” or “just give me twenty minutes” or “why does it feel like I won’t see you again?”
But before anything can get past the boulder in my throat, she’s gone.
Walking into the restaurant—lit candles, peonies strewn on every flat surface, and our song playing over the speakers—I should have been filled with joy and anticipation. Instead, I stood in the middle of the room with my hands in my pants’ pockets, feeling like I just walked into my own funeral. My dread was flowing off me in waves. The box in my pocket now felt like a leaden weight.
Was I being selfish? Her mom was hurt. I knew she needed to be there.
Should I have gone with her? My head may have been mixed up, but one thought rang out clearly: she didn’t ask me to go with her. She knew I would have. I would have dropped everything. She knows she always comes first for me. She knows her mom is important to me as well. Why didn’t she ask me?
