Page 1 of Brighter Shades of Light
Chapter 1
Sebastian
The day my wife announced she wanted a divorce came with a bout of disappointment. But mostly, I felt nothing.
“Aren’t you going to say something, Sebastian?” Emily stared up at me with angry brown eyes. “I just told you I want a divorce and all you can do is stare at me. Christ, saysomething!”
I stood, poised and emotionless, and allowed her to beat against my chest before she slumped against me. Tears wet my shirt.
“What would you like me to say?”
When she looked back up, her mascara was smeared beneath her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered. “That you don’t want me to go. That we can work it out.” She took a handful of my shirt with both hands. More tears. “Tell me I’m making a mistake.”
My brow pulled together. “You want me to lie to you?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Sebastian.” Emily released my shirt and stepped backward, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Admittedly, itdidhurt to see her in so much pain. Our marriage had been in a rut for years, if I were being honest with myself, and she’d finally had enough. My disappointment came from knowing I had failed. I had tried to make it work with her, but life wasn’t like my experiments. Sometimes, it was too difficult to predict the outcome.
I couldn’t blame her or be angry that it was over. Just…disappointed.
“I want you to be happy.” I went to touch her arm, but she batted away my hand. I dropped it back at my side.
“We were happy once.” Glassy eyes held my gaze.
“Yes.” I nodded, then added, “Once.”
“Why are you so cold?” Emily wiped at her wet cheeks, smearing her makeup even more, and walked over to the mirror hanging above the piano in the living room. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, cleaning both tears and black smudges. “Actually, never mind. I should be used to it by now. Even when I thought we were happy, you were distant. Cold.”
I wasn’t cold. Not really. I was just detached from most relationships. I didn’t understand them.
Put me in a lab, and I could tinker around and figure out how anything worked. I could solve even the most advanced chemistry equations, create hypotheses and perform experiments testing them, and explain in vivid detail the function of each element on the Periodic Table and when it was discovered.
However, when it came to people, I was at a total loss. Couldn’t figure out what made them tick.
“I’m sorry you’re upset,” I said. “I never wanted you to get hurt, Emily, and that’s the truth.”
“I believe you.” Her voice shook. “That’s why this is so hard.”
“It’s hard right now, but it’ll get better with time.” I offered her the closest thing I could manage to a smile, though I was certain it fell short. “You’ll see.”
“Is it hard for you?” she asked, but from her expression, I suspected she already knew the answer.
So, I said nothing. Sometimes that was best, saying nothing. Kinder, even.
Emily sighed and placed a hand on the piano. She lightly ran her fingers along the keys before pressing middle C.
The note rang out in the quiet house before silence reigned once more. A house full of all the things she loved—the antique curio cabinet that held her prized glass figurines, the decorative plates we weren’t allowed to use, the Victorian-style furniture that was uncomfortable to sit on but nice to look at.
“I remember the first time you ever played for me,” she whispered, her gaze lingering on the keys. “I fell in love with you that night, you know.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “Men swooped in from all directions at that party, trying to sweet-talk me. They boasted about their achievements and how many degrees they had. And then I saw you. You commanded the room without having to say a word.”
I had met Emily at a work convention for the university. She was a classics professor, and I was one of chemistry. Two subjects that would never normally meet or have much in common. Years ago, the professors attended summer workshops pertaining to their field, and there were social functions, as well, so everyone could get to know their colleagues. I’d had no interest in attending any of those parties; however, one evening I decided to step out of my comfort zone and go.
Emily had approached me just as I’d been about to leave. We talked over drinks, and then I sat down at the piano in the corner of the room and played what I remembered of Tchaikovsky’sThe Seasons. She’d placed her hand on my shoulder as I played, and I had felt the stirrings of something in my chest.
I didn’t experience attraction like most other people did. Physical beauty was fleeting. What mattered was how someone made me feel. That night, Emily had made me feel…well, I suppose it’d been the closest I had been to content in many years. Even so, something had still been amiss.
Being content wasn’t the same as being happy, even if I had tried to make myself believe otherwise.
