The Ex

by Margaret Ferguson

  I glanced around, not really sure why I came. Call it curiosity. Call it stupidity. Either way, I was here, so I figured I’d make the best of it. There’s not a lot of people that I cared about when I was in school. I was a football snob, too wrapped up in athletics and Emily to know anyone else existed. Though my mom wanted to keep me grounded, I was still a teenager with hormones running rampant. She tried to teach me humility, but it didn’t take until I joined the Army.

  A few people walked by, glancing up at me or my badge—which I intentionally turned backward, by the way—trying to determine if I was someone they once knew or cared to talk to. I didn’t see Adam or Winnie anywhere. Damn. Stood up again. I should have known it was a set-up from the beginning. After only fifteen minutes, I was ready to leave.

  Slowly, I made my way to the wall of glass that looked out over the water and leaned against the window, sighing dramatically; the glass fogging for a fraction of a second with each breath I took. I’d missed this view. The historical bridge, majestically spanning shore to shore, lit bronze statues of a historic cattle drive casting eerie shadows across the trees and paths leading to its entrance. It felt like—home.

  Suddenly, a tiny jagged stream of light rose into the night sky. Then another. And another, silently illuminating the heavens, their spectacular colors reflecting on the waters below. Disappearing. The embers swallowed by the dark river beneath.

  I’ve always loved fireworks. They make me feel like a kid again, laying on an old blanket in the grass with my siblings, my mother’s arm stretched toward the heavens as she pointed out intricate patterns, ‘oohing and aahing’ with us. Enjoying them as much as we did.

  Intrigued, I walked out onto the balcony, the hot Texas night air refusing to abate. The excitement of the crowd in the street below me was electric. And the perfectly choreographed music rose in unison to a crescendo with each explosion. I stepped to the edge, leaning onto the railing as I looked down into the horde. Others joined me on the veranda, all wanting to get the full effect of the incredible fourth of July display. A set of slender arms leaned onto the railing beside mine, fingers nervously intertwined—female. Faint perfume. Coconut shampoo. I caught a wisp of it and closed my eyes, if only for a moment, before glancing down. The bejeweled arms were vaguely familiar, and yet—not so much.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

  She wore no jewelry on her ring finger. I tried to appear unfazed, as I built up the courage to turn. Only, I couldn’t.

  Coward.

  When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Did you know that fireworks were invented in China?”

  A grin crept onto my lips as I still avoided her glance.

  “Seventh century, I think. Tang Dynasty, maybe?”

  I drew in a deep breath for courage, then, resolvedly glanced towards the first girl I ever loved.

  “Funny the things you remember,” she continued, staring up into the sky.

  Yeah, funny the things we remember…

  When she turned to me, I nervously peered into those green eyes that had first melted my heart so many years ago. Yet, when I did, it wasn’t as awkward as I had imagined. And yes, I had imagined seeing her again a thousand times. I’d recited over and over in my mind what I would say if I ever saw her. But, now, here we were, and I was momentarily speechless.

  “Now, where in the world would you learn such drivel?” I finally said with a smirk.

  Emily shrugged. “Some guy I used to know loved fireworks. Talked about them all the time, like he was obsessed or something,” she added, the corner of her lip showing the hint of a smile.

  “Obsessed, huh?” I chuckled. “Sounds like a geek.”

  Emily wrinkled her face. “Not a geek,” she defended sweetly. “Smart,” she added with a twinkle in her eye. “Really smart.” She turned, taking a step toward me. “He even told me how each firework is hand-packed.”

  “Really?” I shifted my weight, resting on the banister with one elbow, trying to appear intrigued.

  “Each packet is filled with special chemicals—metal salts and oxides which react to create all the colors we see.” Her hands danced about, as though she were packing them right there before me.

  I glanced down at those slender, manicured fingers. Remembering. “He told you all that, huh?”

  “Yup.” She slowly sipped on her drink.

  “Maybe he was just feeding you a line to impress you.”

  Emily coyly looked away, considering the suggestion. “You think so?”

  “You said he was smart.”

  “Hmm.” She tilted her head and exhaled. “Very smart. And, cute, too.”

  “Cute, huh?”

  “Cutest guy in school.”

  “Smart and cute. What a combination.”

  “A dangerous combination,” she added with a wicked smile.

  “Hmm,” I murmured, looking skyward again.

  When I turned back, Emily was looking upward as well, her eyes glistening with each illumination. Slowly, I shook my head.

  Without looking at me, she asked, “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her features lit up in flashes, my imagination filling in the gaps. I somehow couldn’t believe she still looked as young and beautiful as she did in high school. Maybe a hint of crow’s feet when she smiled, but it fit her nicely. “Not a thing,” I added.

  Emily smiled sweetly. I guess she sensed me staring and turned her head, studying me, too. Neither of us spoke for a moment. Maybe two. My grin grew.

  “Why the hell do you still have to look so good?” I blurted out.

  Her smile slowly broadened. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” Emily sipped on her drink. “What were you hoping for? A flowered mu-mu and curlers in my hair?”

  I laughed out loud. “Yes. Actually, I mean, it would be easier to see you if you looked more like… your mother.”

  Emily made a face. “And you? I was totally prepared for paunch and no hair.”

  I patted my stomach as we laughed at ourselves.

  A grin crept up the side of her lips as she eyed me up and down. “This is clearly a new look for you.”

  I smirked. “So… disappointed?”

  “No. Not disappointed,” she replied. “You?”

  I drew in a deep breath, giving her the once-over as she had just done me. Definitely not disappointed. A loud explosion of fireworks interrupted our awkward conversation, and we turned simultaneously, leaning against the railing once more. Nearer to one another. Welcoming the momentary distraction of the light show as our arms casually touched.

  After a few moments, Emily asked, “So, how ya’ doin’, soldier?”

  “Not too bad.”

  “I hear you’re homeless.”

  Thanks for that, Adam. “Just temporarily.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I glanced her way as the fireworks finale exploded above us. Bursts of light and color burned into dazzling patterns in the distance, its beauty lost on me since my eyes were still on her. Only I couldn’t look away. She had utterly broken my heart, and yet, I couldn’t stop staring. When she looked my way, I quickly asked, “How are you doing?”

  “Me? I have a home,” she quipped slyly before glancing away.

  I chuckled.

  Emily’s smile became a laugh as she lightly touched my arm. “C’mon. It’s getting sticky out here. Buy me a drink, soldier?”

  The incandescent light faded into the night sky as I followed her inside. My hand at the curve of her back, guiding her through the thickening crowd.

  I asked her what she wanted and ordered for us both.

  “Still don’t drink, huh?”

  “Never saw a need for it.”

  “Need? Drinking is to relax and socialize.”

  “I don’t have to drink to relax or be sociable.”

  Emily raised her brow as she tilted her head. “You look awful uptight and uncomfortable right now if you ask me.”

  “Really?” I sighed. “I actuall
y thought I was doing pretty good.” I took a sip of my drink and looked away. “Considering,” I added, under my breath. When I glanced back, she wore a look of surprise. I forced a big smile to which she furrowed her auburn brow in an awfully familiar way. “You know, I’ve never been much for parties.”

  “Now that you mention it—why are you here?”

  “Adam twisted my arm.”

  “Mmm,” Emily hummed, looking around nonchalantly. She sipped on her beverage, then chewed on the ice. “That’s too bad,” she added, walking away.

  I hesitated briefly before following her to an arranged sitting area complete with rented sofas and soft lighting in the corner of the ballroom. Emily passed the staged lounge and stood in the shadows, looking through the window at the sky again.

  After a minute of silence, she sighed dramatically.

  Okay. I’ll bite. “So, why did you come?” When Emily glanced up at me, I immediately regretted asking.

  “To see you.”

  I gazed into those incredible eyes and then quickly looked away. Christ. My heart was racing. “I didn’t even know I was coming until tonight,” I explained.

  “When Adam said you might…" Emily hesitated, eyes glistening in the low lighting. “Well, let’s just say, I’m glad you didn’t disappoint.” She rocked nervously from foot to foot. “I was hoping I’d see you because I needed to tell you something.”

  “Emily,” I interrupted, only she wasn’t finished.

  You see, I’ve thought about this for a long time.” She began pacing.

  “Have you now?”

  “Please,” she forced a faint smile just before her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth. Suddenly, unable, or maybe unwilling, to meet my gaze, Emily quickly wiped a tear as one escaped down her cheek.

  I looked into her eyes. “It’s okay, Em.” I really didn’t want to do this now.

  “God,” she gasped. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

  I hesitated, then stepped into the path she was treading into the rug. “I know what this is all about,” I interrupted. “It’s been weighing heavy on my mind, too, and after all these years, I really need to know.”

  When she looked up at me, I could see I caught her off guard. Her lip began trembling.

  I exhaled. “I mean, after all these years,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you how many nights this has kept me up. Wondering.” I side-glanced her. “Remember that summer we drove down to the Frio River with Terry and Russ?”

  Emily looked up at me, utterly perplexed.

  I scratched my chin for effect. “We took my new pick-up truck. Remember?”

  She narrowed her eyes, still trying to figure out what the hell I was talking about.

  I paced in the same circle my ex just had, only my strides were longer. “I think you were wearing that tiny two-piece. The teal one,” I reminded her. I tilted my head at the memory. When I looked at her, I caught a small grin creeping up the side of her lips. “I mean, I think I liked the yellow one better, but that teal one…” I raised my eyebrows with another tilt of the head. “We stayed in one of those little cabins.”

  “The one with no running water?”

  “Yup, that’s the one.”

  Emily crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, still confused where I was headed with my little narrative.

  “We floated the river all day. Russ drank too much, and I got sunburned.”

  She dropped her head back and laughed. “God, I was so sick when I got home. I told my mom it was food poisoning.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckled. “Remember, you drove into town to get that slimy, sticky, green goo that’s supposed to cool your skin.”

  “Aloe vera gel.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I agreed. “If I remember correctly, it was the first time you’d ever driven my truck, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Emily looked down at her feet before meeting my gaze again.

  “And, when you got back, there was a dent in the driver’s side door, with this yellow paint. And you said somebody must have dinged it with their car door.”

  Emily made a face. “Yeah. Some luck.”

  “So,” I asked slyly, drawing out my mock interrogation. “Did someone really ding my door, or did you bang it on one of those yellow parking lot pillars?”

  Emily carefully considered her answer, a crooked smile curling up the side of her lips. “So, this is what’s been keeping you up nights?”

  “Yeah. What else would it be?” I asked, arms crossed. “That was a new truck.”

  Emily drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “I confess,” she exhaled, looking up at me sheepishly. “I was too embarrassed and ashamed to tell you the truth.”

  “Like I didn’t know already,” I playfully waved her off.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, stepping nearer to me. “I’m sorry,” she offered.

  I took a step toward her. “I forgive you.”

  When Emily looked up, I could see her eyes brimming with the tears she was fighting. She dropped her head against my chest. Instinctively, I put my arm around her.

  “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long. Needed to tell you,” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed softly. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “It was only a truck,” I breathed out.

  She pulled away and chuckled, wiping her tears.

  I shrugged. “That was a lifetime ago, anyway. And I’m all grown up now.” I stepped back from her and held out my arms. “See? All better.”

  A slow ballad by the Eagles began to play, and I thought I caught a wisp of a smile cross her lips. I nodded toward the dance floor, took her by the hand and dragged her onto it. Instinctively, Emily slid her hand to my neck, mine moving again to the curve of her back. Fitting perfectly in my arms, as she had so many years before. Though now she was a few inches taller, thanks to the spiked heels she wore. We swayed together as one in an old familiar way, her fingers soft and delicate in mine.

  “I’ve thought about you so many times,” she confessed, leaning away from me, studying me. “Wondered what you were doing. If you’d gotten married. Had kids.” Emily hesitated. “Have you ever thought about me?”

  Sure did. Only every time I thought about her, I wanted to tell her how devastated I had been by her infidelity. By her betrayal. I wanted to tell her how I had held onto the anger and the hatred, not wanting to let it go. If not for a missionary in a remote village in Afghanistan, I’d still be holding a grudge. I wouldn’t have learned the importance of forgiveness. If not for the missionary…

  “Did you ever think about me?”

  “Of course, I did,” I admitted. “Every time I looked at that damned dented door.”

  She laughed out loud. “I’ve thought about you a lot lately. Especially since leaving Larry.”

  “Larry, the loser?”

  Her laugh continued. “Yeah, I wonder whatever happened to him.”

  “Oh, you’ll never have to worry about him again.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He’s dead,” I replied, convincingly.

  Emily looked up at me in shock. “Really?”

  I looked at her deadpan. “Yeah. I killed him.”

  Emily grinned. “Hmm. I’m guessing they’ll never find the body.”

  “Not likely.”

  She chuckled. “So, that’s why he never showed up at any of the reunions after the split.”

  “Oh, that would probably be because of the death threats I sent him,” I said with a straight face.

  She laughed aloud again.

  “Before I killed him, that is.”

  Emily’s fingers teased the back of my neck. “You could always make me laugh.” A moment later, her other hand slid up my arm to my scraggly beard. “Hmm,” she hummed. “I kind of like the new you.”

  My heart raced as I closed my eyes. What the heck are you doing, man?

  “Do you know what else I loved about you?” I looked at her again. God, she
was still so beautiful. Her fingers moved from my cheek to my lips, where they taunted me, her mere touch sending chills throughout my body. I continued to stare at her, lost in her eyes.

  “My irrepressible charm?” I quipped.

  “There’s that,” Emily grinned. “No. It’s the way you used to look at me.” Her smile grew. “Like you’re looking at me now,” she added in a whisper.

  Somehow, I couldn’t help myself as my hand instinctively moved to her cheek. I caressed it gently, rediscovering the feel of it against the palm of my hand.

  “There’s something else I’ve missed,” she added, just before leaning up, her lips brushing the side of mine. Gently. Sweetly. Her mouth moved to my ears. “The way you kissed me. Like I was everything to you.”

  I looked at her, somewhat surprised. “You were,” I replied in a breath.

  When Emily kissed me once more, it was as though she were reaching into the depths of my soul. I wanted to scream, “No! Are you crazy?” or “Are you kidding?” But I didn’t. I couldn’t speak. I was under her spell. Again. Bewitched by her eyes, seduced by them. I suppose she took my non-response as compliance. It was now she pulling me through the crowd, away from the water and the wall of windows. From high school classmates I didn’t recognize, and the fireworks that I’ve loved since I was a child.

  Suddenly, they all didn’t seem so important anymore.

  Chapter 3

  Whoever thought of putting mirrors in bars was a sadist, he concluded, staring woefully at the person he despised most in the world.

  Himself.

  Arnold thought he knew what he was supposed to do—what he was called to do. Yet, now, everything was muddled. His mind. His life.

  A bartender came by, every once in a while, to check on him, thankfully noting his desire to be left alone. It had been easily a half-hour since he’d last sipped from the bottle before him, and yet, it had never left his hands; the glass warm now, matching the temp of the flat liquid inside.

  Countless souls had occupied these barstools over the years. Leo, the lead barkeep, had learned how to read folks before even talking to them. There are a lot of reasons for people to frequent a bar, drowning sorrows being high on the list. He had also learned when to pry, and when not to. This man had been here before, usually in the evenings. Always alone. Never talkative. Sometimes, like now, he was zoned out—as his grandson would say. And yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, Leo felt the man wanted, maybe even needed, to unburden himself.