Love, Left Too Late

I hurriedly looked away, afraid he would see my reddened eyes.

"Okay, I get it. Thank you for sending me home tonight, Gerald. It's late. I should head up."

I started to step away, but he grabbed my wrist.

Gerald gently wiped my tears, his face wearing that I-told-you-so look.

"You're such a crybaby. Won't you fight for the chance to stay with me? Perhaps for Elle's sake, I may play along a little longer," he said lightheartedly.

However, I could not believe him anymore.

The square outline in the right pocket of his jacket gave him away. It was the protection he kept for his trysts with other women.

I took a step back and forced my voice to sound calm. "No thanks, Gerald. Enjoy your night."

Then, I walked straight into the apartment complex without looking at him. I walked fast. My breath came out in harsh clouds against the cold night.

I thought I would not cry again. When I unlocked my door and glanced down from the balcony, Gerald was still standing where he had been, staring into space.

I knew he was waiting for my room light to go on so he could leave without worry. How could he wound me so recklessly and then go on being comfortably kind?

I shut the balcony curtains and collapsed to the floor. Finally, the dam broke. I let it all out until I felt empty, pouring out five years of hurt and humiliation.

My phone chimed. It was a message from Gerald.

[Nessa, you should go out and explore the world while you're young.

[There are plenty of men out there. Don't just tie yourself down to one person.

[Also, get some rest.]

Those three messages lined up on the screen suddenly felt extra absurd.

All of a sudden, it felt to me that none of this mattered anymore. Somehow, all the obsession I had carried for the past five years loosened its grip because of those three lines of messages.

I wiped my face and messaged back.

[Okay. I will.]

Then, I called my mother.

"Hello, Mom. About that arranged marriage with Scott Henderson in seven days… I'll do it."

After I hung up, I fell onto the bed, utterly spent. I had warned myself not to dwell on the past, but my mind and my heart were not in agreement.

I could not help but reminisce about the past. Memories of my first meeting with Gerald resurfaced in my mind. It was Elena who introduced me to him.

He had been in black athletic wear that day. When he scored a three-pointer on the basketball court, those young women screamed.

To my surprise, he came straight to me and took the half-drunk bottle from my hand. He turned toward Elena and asked, "Who's this friend of yours? Why haven't I seen her before?"

Who would not be stirred by an entrance like that? I swooned, falling hopelessly for him.

For him, I fell out with my family. For him, I was willing to be his secret lover for five years without making things official.

Later, I learned that his move during our first meeting was not unique to me. He had said the same thing to every young woman he met.

…

"What? You're getting married?"

Three days after I split up with Gerald, Elena invited me out for a meal. She had not expected to hear my news.

She sat beside me, worry written all over her face.