by Olivia Miles
She looked away as tears filled her eyes and hurried across the street, the wind slapping her cheeks. The Starbucks was crowded but she eyed a table near the corner, one where she could be alone, left in peace to read, before she figured out what else to do with the day. With winter break. With the rest of her life.
She kept her eye on the table as she stood in line, debating whether or not she should get a seasonal beverage. Normally, she’d love nothing more than to embrace the holidays, but celebrating alone was far from inspiring, even if Lucas had never really seen the appeal in eating cutout cookies dusted with glistening green and red sugar, or drinking hot chocolate or trudging a tree up the four flights to her apartment. Melody was away for break; she’d left straight from the party at school. Carrie really didn’t feel like reaching out to any of her other friends and explaining that not only was she not wearing a ring, but that she also no longer had a boyfriend.
Melody had texted, of course. Right away. Thursday night. She wanted pictures. When Carrie eventually mustered up the energy to reply, in as few words as possible, Melody declared that she was happy that Lucas was done wasting Carrie’s time.
At least one of them was happy. Sure, Melody had always been vocal in her opinion that he should have proposed years ago, but Carrie had faith in Lucas. Without a ring or a promise, she figured he would have ended it if he’d wanted to and didn’t. And many men did end things. Her father being top of that list. He’d ended jobs. Then the marriage. Then their family. But Lucas was conservative and had a stable job and they had a routine—one he’d been faithful to. She could count on it. Just like she’d thought she could count on him. And he was probably back at the café right now. And she should really be there with him.
“What can I get you?” The man behind the counter stared at her with naked impatience and Carrie had the uneasy feeling that he had been waiting for her to snap out of her funk for quite some time.
“Sorry.” She licked her lower lip, tried to think of what they offered, what she even liked. She had grown so used to her routine with Lucas at the other coffee shop—a skim latte with chocolate shavings and the table near the window—that she didn’t even know what to do with herself. “I’ll have a…a…skim latte.”
“Nonfat latte?” It wasn’t a question, though. “Name for the order?”
“Carrie.” Only she didn’t feel like herself. She felt different. Worse. Like the person she had never wanted to be.
She paid and moved to the end of the line to collect her drink. She looked in the corner, sighing when she saw that someone else had taken her preferred table. A couple. A happy one, at that. The girl was pretty in a natural way, with blonde hair and flushed cheeks and a plaid scarf that was exactly like the one that Carrie had given Lucas last Christmas. She remembered how selective she had been when choosing it, making sure that it wasn’t too light or too dark, and that it would match his camel, navy, and black coats. And his eyes. He had such beautiful blue eyes.
The woman said something and the man laughed, and every nerve ending in Carrie’s body went on high alert. She knew that laugh. She’d only been hearing it for the last four years. Except, come to think of it, she maybe hadn’t heard it quite as much in recent weeks.
She swallowed hard as the holiday music and din of the conversation seemed to melt around her, like she was under water, listening from below. Drowning.
Her heart was thudding and she inched to the right, for a better view, and that’s when she saw him. Unmistakable. His navy-blue coat. His scarf on another woman’s neck.
It was Lucas. Her Lucas. The same man who, up until thirty-six hours ago, had been the man she thought she would marry, have children with, and grow old with, preferably in a cozy house in Connecticut with a reasonable commute to the city. And now, while she had stayed home alone inside her shoebox of an apartment, drinking cheap wine and crying so loudly that she feared the neighbors in her building might call her landlord out of concern or, worse, tap on the door to check on her, he had been getting out and about. With another woman!
Her hand flew to her face when she realized she wasn’t even wearing makeup. Of course, Lucas had seen her hundreds of time without makeup, because they had spent four years of their lives together. But now she felt vulnerable and exposed, and she couldn’t have him see her. Not like this. Not when he was with her.
Whoever she was.
One thing for certain was that she was no good.
Carrie backed up, stepping on someone’s foot.
“Ouch!” An older man looked at her with such scorn that she almost felt the need to defend herself. It had been an accident. She wasn’t a bad person. She was actually a very good person.
And she’d been a good girlfriend, too. The best. She couldn’t have been any better. Attending every function, laughing at all his lame jokes. Not mentioning kids or marriage—too much.
“Sorry,” she muttered and pushed away. She was starting to sweat, and she felt dizzy, like she might faint at any moment. She needed air. She needed to get outside. She needed to get away from Lucas. That woman. And the scarf. It was shameless!
She moved quickly, slanting a glance at the table, even though he was unaware, his back to her. She was almost at the door, when she heard the barista call out her order. “Carrie? Nonfat latte for Carrie!”
She froze. She looked at Lucas. Watched to see if he would turn at the sound of her name, if he would see her.
But he didn’t move at all. Clearly, she was long forgotten. Already replaced.
She needed to get out of this city. If she didn’t, she feared what would become of her in the two weeks that she was supposed to be planning her wedding. It wasn’t even noon, and already, she had changed back into pajamas, taken a fitful nap (under the covers and everything) and then wept over all of Lucas’s belongings that still lingered her apartment: extra tee shirts, his green toothbrush, a book he never had finished reading. She toyed with the idea of using it all as an excuse to text him, to see if he would swing by, but she realized that he wouldn’t care about any of these things, just like she didn’t care about the pink toothbrush at his apartment, or the extra pair of sweatpants she had there, maybe a few movies she’d brought over to watch on his oversized television.
The only thing she really wanted was for Lucas to come to his senses and beg for her back.
And that scarf. She wanted the scarf back.
At this, she snorted, loudly, so loudly, that she was momentarily silenced, but not for long. She wailed, long and hard. And she wept. She wept until her pillowcase was wet and she became cold and she needed to crawl out of bed and walk to the closet and pull out a sweater.
The phone on her bedside table was flashing. Lucas? Her tears subsided as hope filled her. She picked up the device gingerly, willing it to be him.
She had three missed calls, and again, her heart raced with anticipation. Of course. Lucas had never been one for texting. He much preferred an old-fashioned phone call.
He’d seen her. There was an explanation!
Holding her breath, she tapped the button. Melody. Melody. Except the call Thursday night from Jules.
Carrie never had called her back.
Now, she supposed that she could. She could tell her everything. Or she could say nothing at all. With five years between them in age, usually it was Carrie giving the advice, but Jules was always eager to connect. More than Carrie had been, she realized, especially in recent years. But a voice. A human connection…it would be nice right about now, even if Jules did probably want to go in on a gift.
Carrie decided they could go in on Tess’s gift, in that case. She was stumped on that one and Tess, being Tess, always bought everyone the perfect gift, unique to their individual personalities and tastes. Last year, Tess had sent Carrie a vintage jewelry box, decorated with hand-painted butterflies. She was somewhat of a butterfly expert; even at a young age, she could hold out her finger, very still, and they would come to her.
She
smiled now, thinking of that. Life was so simple then. And even when it wasn’t, it was certainly less complicated than it was now.
She went to the bathroom to wash her face, and, after eyeing Lucas’s toothbrush for an unnaturally longer period of time than one would usually stare at a toothbrush, ran it all along the rim of the toilet and then dropped it into the trash. Then, she called her sister while she uncorked a bottle of wine.
Jules answered on the second ring, even though Carrie had half expected to be sent to voicemail. Jules was unpredictable. Her life wasn’t settled.
Not that Carrie could talk.
“Hey!” Jules sounded breezy and out of breath, usually because she was always running late and scrambling to get to her destination on time. Also, she lived on the top floor of a brownstone, and lugged groceries and even her bike up those stairs countless times a day.
“Did you just get in?” Carrie asked.
“Nope, just getting ready to head out soon. The snow is really coming down, though.”
Carrie frowned. “Says the girl who used to run out to the lake without a hat or gloves at the sight of the first flurry.”
“What can I say?” Jules said. “I’m a city girl now. I suppose we both are.”
Carrie took a sip of her wine. She glanced at the clock. She should pace herself, but then, what else did she have to do, other than think about the girl with the scarf? The scarf she had bought with the gift card all the class parents had pooled together to buy her.
She narrowed her eyes. Took another sip of wine. A longer one.
“It’s funny how that ended up,” she said, forcing herself back to the conversation. Distractions were needed, and all too soon she would be left alone again, in the silence of her miniscule apartment. “Given that we grew up in Winter Lake.”
“Population four thousand and six,” Jules laughed. It was an estimate, but a good one. “Actually, I don’t think it’s surprising at all. We wanted something different. Something…”
Better? Carrie considered that. From the day her father had walked out when she was seven, everything had changed. “I miss it sometimes.”
“Then go back!”
Carrie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was always like that with Jules. She couldn’t understand structure or commitment or responsibility.
“I have a full-time job,” Carrie replied.
There was silence on the other end of the line and Carrie held the phone away from her ear to make sure they were still connected.
Eventually, Jules said, “I thought teachers had, like, crazy time off.”
True. Carrie hadn’t even considered Winter Lake as an option for the holidays, though. It had been too long since she’d been back to even put it on her radar. And then there was the issue with Tess to consider…
“But you’re probably busy with Lucas,” Jules said.
Now it was Carrie’s turn to go silent. She took another sip of her wine before asking, “And what are your plans for the holiday? I saw you called.”
“Oh. That. I was just calling about Phoebe’s gift. You know me. But actually, actually our conversation has me thinking. Maybe I will go back to Winter Lake for Christmas. It’s Tess’s first Christmas since Andrew died.”
Of course. How could Carrie forget? Guilt pulled at her stomach, twisting and turning it until it felt like a hard knot. She hadn’t thought enough about Tess lately. Truth be told, she’d tried not to.
“Maybe I’ll come too,” she blurted before she’d had a chance to think things through. It was the wine talking. Surely. And her emotional state. A Christmas in Winter Lake meant skating and festivals and lights and carolers. It meant all the things that Carrie wasn’t really up for anymore.
It meant seeing Tess.
But it also meant getting out of the city. Away from Lucas. And the scarf girl.
“Really? You mean you don’t have plans with Lucas?” Jules sounded stunned.
Why did she have to keep bringing up Lucas? Carrie opened her mouth to say that, actually, she was no longer with Lucas, and that for all she knew, Lucas was spending Christmas with his new girlfriend, but then she would have to explain it, and listen to Jules’s surprised reaction, and that wasn’t the point of this call.
“Lucas has other commitments this Christmas,” she said blandly.
“Oh, this will be great! All of us together again!”
She wasn’t so sure that Tess would see it that way, but then again, maybe she would be happy to have their company, and maybe it was the right thing to do, not just for her, but for Tess. And Phoebe. At the thought of her niece, Carrie warmed up to the idea.
Until she remembered Tess’s last words to her, less than a year ago. If you aren’t coming back for Andrew’s funeral, then don’t ever come back at all.
“I’ll call Tess and let her know,” Jules said.
“If she doesn’t want me there—”
“Nonsense!” Jules said firmly. “We’re sisters. Of course she wants you there. It will be a…a Christmas surprise! Take the morning train to Boston tomorrow. We can get the bus together from here.”
Tomorrow. Carrie disconnected the call and stared out the window, which gave an ever-pleasing view of the brick side of an adjacent building. Growing up, the window of the bedroom she’d shared with Tess looked out onto snow-frocked trees, an entire winter wonderland that used to fill her with awe and hope, even when there wasn’t any to be found in life’s current circumstances.
Christmas in Winter Lake. It would certainly be better than her present situation. It definitely couldn’t be worse. Really, how bad could it be?
Chapter Five
Jules
Jules hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. That was…odd. Good, but odd. Normally, Carrie didn’t go anywhere without Lucas. Her entire world had revolved around him from the moment they’d first met. She spent every holiday with Lucas, every vacation with Lucas. With the exception of her coworkers, Carrie had drifted away from her childhood and college friends and replaced them with Lucas’s friends. Half the time, Jules even suspected that Carrie felt closer to Lucas’s sisters than she did to her or Tess.
For Carrie to not spend Christmas with Lucas made no sense. Unless…
Jules shook that thought away. Impossible. Carrie and Lucas would never break up. They’d been together far too long, their lives were completely intertwined. In many ways, Carrie had no life without Lucas, other than her teaching job, of course. Lucas was her entire world.
Jules tried to imagine that for a moment. Spending day after day, night after night, meal after meal with the same person, knowing that you would never mix it up, never feel the spark and excitement that came with something or someone new.
It felt dull. And mildly depressing.
But that was what she’d been doing with Aaron, in a way. Only Aaron was just a friend. Her romantic life was separate. She still looked forward to the rush of a first date. Still relished in knowing that if it didn’t work out, someone else would eventually come along, and that she was no worse off for it. Change was good. Being adaptable was good. Pinning all your hopes and dreams on one person was asking for trouble and she’d seen that firsthand. Her mother had never recovered from their father leaving her. She’d barely lived, and now, she was gone. So no, there was no sense in relying on one person like that.
Still, she appreciated the stability of her friendship with Aaron. She did not, however, appreciate that weird little moment they’d had last night.
Hopefully by the time she returned from Winter Lake, Aaron would see that really, he had misinterpreted his feelings. It was easy to do, of course. After all, there had even been times where she had felt a pang of jealousy if he dated a girl for more than a month (which albeit was rare, now that she thought about it). He was cute and scruffy and funny and kind. But as soon as she started to feel all squirmy and possessive, she realized that her feelings were not of the romantic sense. It was more a fear of losing what they had.
Of being replaced.
Certainly, with a little space, Aaron would see that too. Really, it had probably been the beer talking. It was easy to start imagining how simple it would be to just stick together, forever. But it didn’t work that way. Life wasn’t that simple.
She pulled up Tess’s number and let it ring. She’d be sent to voicemail, she knew. She always was anymore. It had started when Tess went to college, in state, but a couple hours away. She’d made promises to call, and check in, and visit as often as she could. And she had, at first. Later, when Phoebe was born, Tess tried to explain to her that she had a baby now, she didn’t have time to talk every day, or even once a week, and it only got worse from there as Phoebe grew. Tess had responsibilities, she liked to stress, in a tone that made Jules think that Tess didn’t believe Jules had any responsibilities of her own. Tess had to run her child around, entertain her, host playdates, and she had a husband.
Had a husband. Jules let that sink in for a moment. When Andrew had died, Jules started trying to call more often, only once again, the phone just rang and rang and eventually she got the voicemail system. Sometimes, it was too full for her to leave a message.
She knew better than to take it personally, at least recently. Tess had the perfect life. And then, suddenly, she didn’t. She was alone. It was Christmas.
And Jules was coming for a visit.
Tess’s message clicked on. Jules thought fast. Should she mention Carrie specifically or keep it vague? She didn’t want to upset Tess, but she also wasn’t so sure that Tess knew what she needed anymore. Shutting out the world, not answering her phone, none of that was good.
But Carrie…Well, that was certainly a very tricky situation.
