You're Still the One

by Sasha Clinton

“I don’t know. She was on the floor like this when I returned from work.”

  “Has she attempted suicide before?”

  So it was suicide. He had expected to hear the word, but to have it laid out before him so plainly was disturbing.

  “No, never. I had no idea that she was thinking of taking her life… although she told me that she was depressed and seeing a therapist. I didn’t think it had become so bad.”

  “I take it that she did not share much about her illness with you?”

  “She only told me about it yesterday night. She said she was leaving to go to Greenport to her parents’ house to recover. I thought she had left in the morning, but when I entered the apartment… she was…” His voice broke.

  “I understand. It must be a huge shock for you.”

  “Please save her. She’s everything to me.” As he was the only one she had in this world, she was also the only one he had.

  The medic’s pitying glance made his optimism dive even lower. “We will try our best.”

  He lost count of time after that. Events occurred in a blurry sequence. Ashley was taken into the emergency department at Bellevue Hospital Center. Then fifteen minutes later, he was greeted by a doctor.

  “You’re Ashley’s husband?” the old man asked. His white coat had some drops of red on it.

  “Yes.” Andrew said, his throat dry.

  “Her condition is very poor. She cut an artery and as a result a lot of blood has been lost. She needs blood transfusion, and depending on the results of the diagnostic tests, emergency surgery could be required. The surgery carries many risks.” The doctor relayed the words like he was describing the features of an automatic washing machine. “I’ll brief you on the risks of the procedure in my office. We need your consent to proceed.”

  “You have it.” Andrew didn’t need to know anything. If Ashley needed surgery, she was going to get surgery.

  “It is my duty as a medical doctor to give you a run-down of the procedure and its possible complications.”

  “Don’t waste time.”

  Sensing his desperation, the doctor hastily informed him of all the relevant medical details, most of which passed through Andrew’s ears like scrambled code.

  “Dr. Krishnamurthy, the emergency surgeon, is one of the best in this hospital. Your wife is in good hands. Don’t worry.”

  When the doctor left, Andrew stepped out. It was too tense inside.

  He glanced up at the overcast sky outside Bellevue Hospital Center, waiting.

  For news. Any news.

  Minutes snowballed into hours. As he recalled the sentences he had read in her diary and repeated the words to himself over and over again, something withered inside him.

  He had messed up at every step. From ignoring her, to stripping her of her confidence and importance, to taking her for granted.

  I wish I had never loved him. He is toxic…

  He didn’t deserve her. He had hurt her.

  In those lengthy, torturous hours, he made his decision.

  He would divorce her. Immediately. Free her from his grip forever.

  He couldn’t make up for the past, but he could give her a future where she could start over again.

  It was a momentous decision, but at this point it was almost as requisite as the procedure she was about to undergo. In just one year, she had become this. If she stayed with him any longer, there was no telling what would happen.

  Letting go of her would leave a hole in his heart. He still loved her deeply. But for her sake, he could sacrifice his desire to stay with her.

  Sterilizing his emotions, Andrew tapped his phone to download the forms for divorce from New York courts’ website. Running through them, reading the black print, made his decision seem like a reality.

  Once he printed out and filled the forms, it would be done. She would have her freedom and he would have a long, lonely, loveless life.

  He didn’t kid himself by thinking that he could fall in love with someone else. He couldn’t.

  Like Carl, he’d have to immerse himself in his career and business. For the first time, he understood how Carl must have felt all his life, not that it excused any of his father’s actions.

  You will realize that it is my blood that runs through your veins a year down the line when you’re filling out papers for separation.

  Carl could open up a fortune-telling business.

  After an eternity, a doctor departed from the emergency operating room through the glass doors that partitioned the interior and exterior of the hospital. Andrew scurried back in, impatient to hear the news.

  “She’s okay now.”

  The mixture of joy, relief and gratitude that washed through him was unbelievable. The emotion made every cell in his body vibrate. He hugged the doctor, causing the old man to laugh.

  Ashley was okay. She was going to be healthy again. She was going to move again. She was going to breathe, talk and laugh again.

  But he wasn’t going to be able to see all that.

  Chapter 8

  Present

  “Andrew Smith?” Bella asked, disbelieving what she’d heard.

  “I know, right? How could this be happening to me?” Ashley moaned, taking a sharp turn to avoid running into the overfull shopping cart that was racing towards her.

  On a Sunday, Wal-Mart was bursting at the seams with shoppers. With so many people breathing in the space, it was hot. Angry rants at the slow-moving line at the counter and kids running across Ashley’s path all of a sudden completed the Sunday shopping experience.

  “The monthly astro for Pisces in Cosmo said that this was going to be a bad month.” Bella informed.

  That didn’t help Ashley feel any better.

  “The astrologer wrote that there would be a blast from the past.”

  “More like an atom bomb from the past.” Ashley hurled three large packets of Doritos into her cart and eyed the fourth one covetously.

  “I haven’t seen Andrew in a while,” Bella said. “Does he still look the same? Tell me his hair’s fallen off, his teeth have yellowed and he looks like a forty-year-old alcoholic.”

  How she wished she could say that. “He looks like a GQ cover model. He didn’t have abs before but now he has biceps, triceps, quadriceps… all -ceps, really.”

  “He was on the cover of GQ last year,” Kat stated. Although she was a political reporter, she tended to be well informed of things in the media world.

  Bella punched a bag of potato chips. “I hate men with good genes.”

  “Says the girl who once dated the hottest celebrity on the planet,” Kat mused.

  “We all make stupid mistakes when we’re young.” Bella was unruffled by the mention of her ex-boyfriend. Bella had bulldozed past that heartbreak long ago. She was strong like that. Ashley wondered how long it would take for her to get to that level. “But I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m off hot-as-sin, characterless men now.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Do you want to have a party at my house on Friday?” Bella asked.

  Ashley knew the kind of party Bella meant—only the three of them, champagne, takeout, movies and dancing all night to songs on their playlist they were too embarrassed to share with anyone else. It was fun to hang out with each other and let their hair down once in a while.

  “Let’s do it.” Ashley was all fired up.

  “I’ll bring the drinks.” For all her healthy eating, Kat had a serious vice—an unabashed love for alcohol she indulged in pretty often.

  “Let’s order Chinese. Yang Sing’s potstickers have been making the rounds in my dreams lately.” Bella would make love to potstickers if she could.

  Kat didn’t approve. “Too much MSG. We should cook ourselves. I’ll make salad. Brussels sprouts and quinoa.”

  Bella chortled. “You’re kidding, right? Who eats salad at a party? And I bet Ashley is craving Chinese too.”

  Kat and Bella looked at her. Ashley squirmed under their expectant stares. She
hated having to make the tough decision of which friend to please.

  “Let’s try Indian this time.” She always did this when she had to choose. She brought out a third option.

  “I guess.” Kat didn’t sound happy, but she didn’t protest, either. She shrugged and looked at the pasta sauces in the shelf, examining each one carefully.

  “I wish you wouldn’t spend ages reading the nutritional labels,” Bella grumbled, throwing her pink flip-flops against the floor impatiently.

  “Look at this, it has twenty grams of sugar in a serving.” Kat set the jar of tomato and basil sauce back on the shelf. “It’s a pasta sauce, for goodness’ sake, not a chocolate chip cookie. The number of unnecessary ingredients in food is scary.”

  That made Ashley feel slightly guilty about eating Doritos, which was loaded with copious amounts of salt and fat. Summoning her willpower and taking deep breaths, she put back the three packets of Doritos.

  “I’m proud of you.” Bella hugged her from the back and her arms sank into Ashley’s shoulders.

  “I know. It’s just that sometimes I get lonely and… Doritos is good company.” she said.

  “You need a boyfriend. You’ve been single for seven years,” Kat said.

  “I was concentrating on my career.” That was an evergreen excuse, the excuse every woman could count of to have her back when she was asked a question like this.

  “Should I set you up with someone?” Bella burst in. “I know this guy. He’s stable and practical. Just what you need.”

  “No, I want the first meeting to be organic.” They’d had this talk many times and it always ended with her brushing the issue under the rug.

  “If you wait for fate to introduce you to someone, you have to take Andrew. He’s all fate gave you. It’s time to design your own destiny.”

  Taking a deep breath, Ashley tried to fight the prickling unease in her chest.

  Bella was right. It was time to let go of her fears and try something new. How long was she going to wallow in the sadness of her failed marriage?

  Forever, if she had her way. Toxic thoughts had a way of embedding themselves in the psyche. She had to break the cycle. Change was never comfortable, but she needed it.

  “What does this guy do?” Ashley asked.

  “He’s an associate at Goldman Sachs.” Bella’s silver fish pendant gleamed against her tanned chest.

  “How do you know him? Last I knew, you were a professor of philosophy, not working at Wall Street.”

  “He’s my neighbor. You know Joe?”

  Kat nodded.

  Joe and Bella had been neighbors for half a decade. They were close in age and quite friendly with each other.

  “He’s been taking a break from the social scene but he wants to start dating again.”

  “I don’t really think we’ll work…” Ashley trailed off. “Joe didn’t really catch my eye that time.”

  “You can’t judge a book by its cover. You already made that mistake once.”

  Ashley knew Bella wasn’t being malicious, but she didn’t want to be reminded of her ‘mistakes’ so many times in a single day.

  And Bella had been the one who’d introduced Andrew to Ashley.

  “It’s time to move on.” That was all Ashley could say. But she didn’t feel those words. “It’s just that I don’t have the confidence…”

  “Did Andrew say anything that’s making you feel like this?” Kat enquired. The pointy edges of her pixie-cropped brown hair jiggled near her ear.

  How come all her self-esteem problems could be so neatly traced back to Andrew?

  “No. He didn’t say anything. Forget it. Maybe I should start dating again.”

  “So what do you think about dating Joe? I can set you two up. God knows he needs a girlfriend or he’s going to die a lonely old man, probably still living next door to me.” Bella picked back up where she had left off, tossing packets of frozen peas and corn into her trolley.

  “All right, I’ll give him a chance.”

  “Are you sure?” Concern flashed across Kat’s face. “Don’t feel pressurized because Bella wants you to.”

  “I want to. Let’s see where this goes.”

  “Even if it doesn’t work out with Joe, it’s okay.”

  Ashley smiled reluctantly.

  She was in the dangerous zone of a thirty-something. If she wanted to be in a solid relationship by thirty-five, she had to start dating now. Relationship. The word sent shivers up her spine. Not again.

  “I’ll pass on your phone number to Joe and you guys can take it from there.”

  “Okay.”

  Bella put a hand on her shoulder.

  “You can love again, Ash. Be brave.”

  ***

  Ashley laid her fingers at the foot of the headstone.

  ‘Violet Brown,’ it read, followed by her mother’s birth year and death year. The words ‘Loving wife, mother and teacher’ were inscribed below.

  She lifted her eyes to the pale blue sky, trying to trap the tears in. But she lost. They dripped onto the roses and clung to the petals like dew drops. Pulling out the handkerchief she had been wise enough to carry, she wiped her cheeks until the cloth was damp. But she couldn’t wipe away the deep sadness that lay at the root of those tears.

  She would never be able to do that. Not in a hundred years.

  Sobs came in fits. The lingering emptiness around her reminded her of what she had lost.

  When her legs wobbled, she had to hold on to the cold granite to keep herself from rocking. Kneeling to the ground, she let all the chaotic sentiments stream out in a dark river of emotion.

  She always became emotional on her mother’s death anniversary.

  It had been two years since Violet Brown had passed away due to a cardiac arrest while visiting Ashley in New York. She had expected her dad to come down to New York today, but his emotional state was probably too frayed.

  He had been the hardest hit by her mother’s death. They’d had a long and loving marriage and he had been left lost. He was recovering now, but he would never be the same man again.

  The only reason Ashley had not moved to Greenport to live with him had been because she knew he would not be alone. Violet had been a teacher at the primary school for forty years and there was nobody who hadn’t loved her dearly.

  “Mom, I miss you,” Ashley cried. Her mother had been her only emotional support after her divorce with Andrew.

  Her mother had looked after her and nursed her back to health. Her mother had cried with her when she had cried for Andrew. Her mother had partied with her when she had gotten her first job as an editorial assistant at Doubleside. Her mother had cheered for her all throughout, and that belief had enabled Ashley to get this far. And that belief was now gone forever.

  “Why did you leave?” she asked the cold stone.

  The swish of the wind was the only answer she got.

  When she reached to the point where another tear couldn’t be squeezed out, she rose from the grave and turned back to the entrance.

  As she walked past a row of tombstones, the brightness of the afternoon sun seemed to have gone pallid. Everywhere around her, there was only loss.

  What had she expected? This was a cemetery.

  Looking around, she saw a man wearing a black suit offered a bouquet to a tombstone. Must be a relative. Then, as he turned, she froze.

  Andrew.

  Cloudy gray eyes found stormy blue.

  The deep hurt in his eyes mirrored hers so perfectly. He wasn’t crying—the emotion in his eyes went so much deeper than that. It was the kind of sorrow that could not be extinguished.

  He strode towards her, in hesitant steps. So unlike the confident Andrew she knew. He held out his hand. They were co-passengers on this train of loss, so it made sense to shake hands at least.

  “I never imagined meeting you here.” His tone was so subdued, she feared that she was talking to a ghost.

  “Me neither.” The words were h
alf-stuck in her throat, caught up in the web of mucus and tears.

  She stood on her toes and craned her neck to catch the words written on the tomb Andrew had visited.

  “It’s Drew’s,” he said. “Do you remember him? He came to our wedding.”

  “The co-founder of Dracosys.” she said. She remembered him well, though it had been long.

  “He passed away last year. Lung cancer.” Andrew gaze up at the cloudy sky.

  Ashley bowed her head in apology. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’d been business partners for eight years and friends for longer. I never thought he’d die, as strange as that sounds. It was a great loss for me and the company.” The veins in his throat protruded as he tried to rein in his emotions under a mask of impassivity. “Who were you visiting?”

  “My… mother. Today is her second death anniversary.” The sniffles turned into full-bodied sobs.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Violet was a wonderful person.” He bundled her into his arms and let her stain his designer coat with her salty tears. Too emotional to think of the complicated relationship between them, she let him hold her. Soothe her.

  His lips grazed her head in a tender kiss. Being enveloped in his scent didn’t dissolve the suffering, but it dissolved the burden of suffering alone. Loneliness was the worst part of this struggle. Andrew’s broad shoulders provided a safe haven to cry and she realized how much she had missed this.

  “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, his lips on her earlobe now.

  “I know.” Her nose started to run and she rubbed it on his shirt. There goes his expensive shirt…

  He held her for a long time, saying nothing, just being there for her while the strain cascaded out of her body with the stream of tears. The stillness grew colder and quieter under the watchful gaze of the trees.

  When she had drenched his shirt in enough mucus, she peeled herself away from his sensual, comforting scent and tried to look guilty about ruining his shirt. His arms still encircled her, but their chests were no longer overlapping.

  “You want to talk?” he probed.

  “I don’t think I’m capable of talking without blowing up into another tear-fest.” She grabbed onto his shoulder to steady her trembling knees.