The Ex's Confession

by L. C. Davenport

  No one looked over, though, and Rebecca let her breath out slowly. Nicole’s head was resting on Elliot’s shoulder by now. “Why do you want to know all this?” she asked. “Do you want to get married?”

  “Not anymore,” came Elliot’s grim response. “Come on. I’ve left my guests unattended long enough.” Then the two disappeared back into the apartment.

  Rebecca sat in the dark for a long time. What Nicole had related to Elliot was largely true, although what he would get from the story was anyone’s guess. He did have a knack for taking a very simple truth and twisting it into complete oblivion.

  Would she do anything differently, knowing what she knew now? She didn’t think so. She was glad Michael and Cassie had found each other; theirs was truly a match made in heaven. She had known the entire time she had dated Michael that he wasn’t very serious. He had even confessed, several months after they had stopped dating, that he was under some pressure from his parents to settle down and get married, and she had been very convenient.

  Elliot–now, Elliot was a different story altogether. She realized now that she hadn’t been ready to get married right out of high school, and even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself, Faye had been right. If she and Elliot were meant to be together, they could wait a few years.

  Evidently, they weren’t meant for each other after all.

  She did wish, though, that she would find the person she was meant for. It was getting tiring, watching everyone pair themselves off: Michael and Cassie, Jen and Scott, and now, it seemed, Nicole and Elliot. Maybe she should have stayed in Michigan. She could have moved to the Upper Peninsula and lived out a very quiet existence. The idea was tempting.

  Rebecca didn’t know how long she had been sitting out there when Cassie came to find her. “I’m sorry to do this to you,” she said apologetically, “but Nicole took off a little while ago and no one stayed to help Elliot clean up. He has some really messy friends.”

  “Sure, I’ll help.” Rebecca sighed. She had really hoped to avoid Elliot for a few days. Her track record with him in a foul mood wasn’t that stellar.

  When they arrived at Elliot’s apartment, he was nowhere in sight. Michael was filling garbage bags with empty cans.

  “Elliot’s outside making sure his friends have cab rides home,” he informed them. “I’m almost ready to take these out to the garbage. All that’s left is the vacuuming and the wiping up.”

  Cassie kissed him. “You’re so sweet to do this,” she said. “When you get back upstairs just go home. It shouldn’t be too long before we get the rest of this mess cleared away.”

  Michael saluted her before he left.

  “I’ll take care of the vacuuming,” Cassie said. “It’ll give me practice.” Her eyes were narrowed, as though she saw the vacuum as something to be conquered. Rebecca almost said something but thought better of it.

  “All right. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” Rebecca said.

  She was wiping off the kitchen table when Elliot came back in. He was grumbling to himself and didn’t notice Rebecca until he’d almost walked into her. “Good heavens! Where did you come from?” he exclaimed.

  “Next door. I’m here with Cassie to help you clean up.” She stopped to listen to the sound of the vacuum roaring to life. “I’d start praying if I were you,” she went on. “Cassie’s not that good with self-propelled appliances.”

  Elliot grunted. He grabbed a washcloth and started to clean a spill on the other side of the room. It seemed to take all of his concentration. She tried to ignore him, but he was blatantly upset about something. She hoped, selfishly, that it was Nicole.

  They stayed like that for some time, the only sound the hum of the vacuum down the hall. Finally, Rebecca put down her cloth and bent over to grab a can that had escaped Michael’s notice. When she picked it up, she caught Elliot staring down at her. He looked away quickly, as if he were ashamed to be seen.

  When she stood up, he threw the towel in the sink and turned to her abruptly. “Why do you do it?” he asked. When she just looked at him in confusion he said, “I mean it. Are you trying to drive me crazy, or is it something you do without realizing it?”

  Rebecca didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. Drive him crazy? Had she done something at the party? Her mind raced back but she couldn’t remember anything that was even faintly offensive. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  Elliot started to pace up and down the length of the kitchen. “Why didn’t you marry Michael?”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Because I wasn’t in love with him.”

  “Right. How long did you lead him on? Was I the only one you teased with the promise of eternal happiness, or do I share that honor with your brother-in-law?”

  Rebecca slammed the can on the counter hard enough to crumple it. “What is it with my relationship with Michael that bothers you?” she demanded. “Yes, we dated. A long time ago. And yes, he proposed to me. I told him no. He moved on. End of story.”

  Elliot sneered at her. “No, that’s not the end of the story. I know perfectly well why you didn’t marry him. Faye got to you again, didn’t she? That’s why Cassie had to elope with Michael, because Faye would have been furious about her choice of husband. At least she was sure enough of her feelings not to run at the first sign of trouble.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rebecca snapped. “Faye didn’t even know I was dating Michael.”

  “What, were you ashamed of him too?”

  Planting her hands on her hips, Rebecca looked him right in the eye. “I was never ashamed of you. And no, I wasn’t ashamed of Michael either. I was avoiding Faye because I was sick of going on blind dates she insisted on setting up.”

  Elliot stepped so close that she could see the gold flecks in his eyes. “Sure. Like I’m supposed to believe that.”

  Out of nowhere, Cassie jumped between them, pulled back her right hand, and slapped Elliot as hard as she could. “That’s enough,” she yelled. “We’re leaving. You are not going to insult my sister and my husband anymore tonight.” She stalked out of the kitchen, leaving a stunned Elliot staring at her. Rebecca turned to follow, but Elliot grabbed her arm.

  “Were you telling me the truth just now?”

  Freshly weary, Rebecca didn’t have the energy to deal with him anymore. “I don’t lie,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what crazy idea you’ve come up with, but I like to think of myself as a fairly good person. I made a mistake with you seven years ago, and I’ve never forgiven myself for it. Please don’t assume anything else about me based on one mistake I made when I was a teenager. I’ve grown up a little since then.”

  She looked down at his hand resting on her arm and then back up at his face, her own expression full of regret. Then she gently pulled her arm away and followed Cassie out of the apartment.

  ***

  The next morning the largest bouquet of roses Rebecca had ever seen arrived at the front door. It was addressed to Cassie and Rebecca, and the card read simply, “I’m sorry. E.”

  Cassie sniffed and placed the flowers on the kitchen table. She gave the card to Rebecca. “Maybe now he’ll stop judging you,” she told Rebecca. “If you don’t want to forgive him, that’s up to you.” She started to walk out of the room, but stopped to throw the day’s paper on the counter in front of Rebecca. “You might want to check out page three,” she said casually. Rebecca looked up at her in surprise. Cassie just smirked at her. “His columns are always very… revealing,” she said as she turned to leave the room. “I’ve found out so much more about Elliot Winters since I started reading the paper.”

  She glanced back to see if Rebecca had moved, a knowing smirk on her face. Since it was a weekend, Rebecca was sure Cassie was confused; there wouldn’t be a column to avoid today. Saturdays were always safe.

  She read the headlines on the front page, and when she turned it over to continue a story that had bled onto the next, she stopped reading in di
sbelief. There was Elliot’s face, at the top of page three, where there should have been only a news article.

  Forgiveness

  by Elliot Winters

  I came across an article not long ago that was written in the New York Times four years ago, and since it directly relates to events that have recently happened to me, I convinced my editor to let me print this column. She agreed, I think, because I’ve been trying not to get too personal lately, and this story is about as personal as it gets.

  Four years ago a young man, Ryan Cushing, and his friends stole a credit card and went on a senseless shopping spree. They bought, amongst other things, a twenty-pound turkey.

  Once back in the car, Mr. Cushing, for reasons unknown to this writer, decided to throw the turkey out of the window. It hit the car behind them with such force that it bent the car’s steering wheel before hitting the driver, Victoria Ruvolo.

  Ms. Ruvolo underwent six hours of surgery to rebuild her face with metal plates, and while doctors feared that she had sustained lasting brain injuries, she recovered remarkably quickly.

  The Times quoted the district attorney as saying that this is the sort of crime for which no punishment is harsh enough. “Death doesn’t even satisfy them,” he said.

  Which is why what transpired in the courtroom is so amazing. Ms. Ruvolo pestered prosecutors for information about her young assailant, wanting to know about the teenager and his background. Then she insisted on a lenient sentence.

  On his way out of the courtroom, Mr. Cushing stopped to speak with Ms. Ruvolo. He choked out an apology and began to cry. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said over and over.

  Ms. Ruvolo took him in her arms, patting his back and stroking his face as he sobbed uncontrollably. Many of the hardened prosecutors, and even a few reporters, had a hard time choking back their own tears.

  This story is remarkable for many reasons, the least of which is because it really happened. Forgiveness is always remarkable, but for someone to forgive a person who nearly killed you out of a single moment of sheer stupidity, is simply amazing.

  I bring this story up not because I have used a frozen fowl to injure another person, but because I once again find myself in need of forgiveness. If I survive long enough, I may be the only reporter in the history of the Tribune to have publicly offered an apology to the same person for doing the same thing over and over again.

  Like Mr. Cushing, I had a moment of sheer stupidity last night. Like an idiot, I let my insecurities get the best of me and I accused someone of being persuaded against something that I should feel grateful she didn’t do. I then accused her of lying about it.

  So here I am, begging for forgiveness once again. I can only hope that she is as understanding and compassionate as Ms. Ruvolo was. The only recompense I can offer is not only to treat her like a human being, but also to stop, cold turkey, my propensity to misjudge and misunderstand.

  I didn’t keep my last resolution all that well. The best I can hope for is a second chance to prove myself a better human being than I was yesterday.

  Chapter Seven

  “Can you cook?”

  Rebecca looked up from her book to see her sister peering at her around the corner. “Not really,” she admitted. “Why, Cass? Do you want lessons in that, too?”

  Cassie made a face. “I wish I could say no,” she said, “but I figured that if we’re really going to do this economizing thing I should learn how to prepare our own meals and stop going out so much.”

  Rebecca was surprised that Cassie was embracing the idea of living without help so fully. Especially, since she had rarely seen either Cassie or Michael eat a meal in their own kitchen. “I can get by, but I’m not a chef by any stretch of the imagination,” she said. She wondered how much grief would come from admitting this.

  Cassie laughed. “Oh, I’m not looking for something fancy. If I can make a few things Michael will be so thrilled that he won’t notice that we’re eating the same dishes every few days. At least, I don’t think he’ll notice.”

  “Does he still order the same thing every time you go to a restaurant?”

  “Sure does. It drives me crazy.”

  Rebecca shot a sly smile at Cassie. “He will eventually, but for now I’d say you should feel grateful he’s such a boring eater.”

  “So will you teach me how to make something?”

  Thinking of the pancake disaster of a few days before, Rebecca opened her mouth to say no. Before she could get a word out, however, Cassie grabbed Rebecca’s hand and pulled her up from the couch. “Let’s go to the bookstore,” she said with way too much enthusiasm. “I’m sure we’ll find all sorts of cookbooks. Maybe I’ll finally figure out what all the appliances in the kitchen are for!”

  Several hours later, they were back in the kitchen, new cookbooks littering the table and every available inch of counter space. Flour dusted the floor, making it slippery in spots, and there was a faint odor of burned bread throughout the apartment.

  “I watched it that time,” Cassie complained, lifting out another piece of blackened toast. “I swear I did.”

  Rebecca glanced at the toaster. “It’s set for dark,” she commented. “Maybe you should turn it down.”

  “But if I do that then I have to keep putting the bread back in and it ends up burned anyway.”

  Rebecca grinned at her and patted her shoulder. “Welcome to the kitchen,” she said. Cassie just groaned.

  Cassie had just thrown the third piece of toast away when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Rebecca said. “It looks like you need to focus on your toast.” Cassie threw a piece of bread at her. “You’re going to have a hard time learning to cook if you spend more time throwing food at the teacher than in doing what she says!” she called as she escaped down the hall.

  She was still laughing when she opened the door, only to find Elliot standing there with two white roses in his hand. Her hands flew to her flour-dusted cheek, but Elliot didn’t seem to notice. He just stood there as if transfixed.

  They stayed like that for several seconds, not moving, and Rebecca was starting to wonder what she should do next, when Michael came around the corner. “What happened to you?” he asked Rebecca. “Is Cassie trying to cook again?” At Rebecca’s nod he darted past Elliot. “Excuse me, man, it may be an emergency,” he explained, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  That seemed to startle Elliot out of his trance. His eyes flickered to the flower arrangement sitting on the foyer table. “Didn’t you like the flowers?” he asked, and then seemed to remember the ones he was holding. “Oh,” he said. “These are for you. And Cassie, of course.”

  Rebecca took the roses and sniffed them appreciatively. “Is white supposed to signify a peace offering?”

  Elliot had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry about the way I behaved last night. I wish I had an excuse, but I don’t.”

  Rebecca thought about the last time he had apologized to her. “That was a much better apology,” she said after a few seconds. “You were right. You are a fast learner.” Then she smiled at Elliot and stood aside for him to enter the apartment.

  She placed the two new roses into the vase and led Elliot to the kitchen. “We were just cooking dinner,” she said. “Or rather, we were cooking breakfast for dinner.”

  Elliot took one look at the messy kitchen and snorted.

  “Don’t laugh,” she warned. “It took us several hours to get it to look like this.”

  Michael poked his head in the oven. “Is this thing supposed to be on?” he asked.

  Cassie threw her apron on the floor in disgust. “That’s it!” she said. “I’m not cooking any more today. Let’s go out for dinner.”

  Looking around at the mess, and starting to realize there would be no edible food coming from his kitchen that evening, Michael agreed. “Why don’t you go change?” he suggested to his wife. “I’ll start to clean up while we wait for you.” He glanced at Elliot and Re
becca. “You guys had better come, too,” he advised. “Unless you don’t want to eat dinner.”

  Elliot glanced at Rebecca. “Fine by me,” he said.

  Cassie grabbed Rebecca by the hand and marched her to the bedroom. “Is this going to be too weird for you?” she asked once the door was closed behind them. “It’s kind of like a double date.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Rebecca said, wishing it were true. “And it’s not a double date. Elliot’s seeing Nicole, remember?”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “How can a person with a college degree be so stupid?” she asked. “He’s not seeing Nicole; Nicole is seeing him. And he’s obviously not that pleased about it.”

  “That’s what you think,” Rebecca retorted. “You’re biased. You’ve never really liked Nicole all that much anyway.”

  Cassie just shrugged. “She doesn’t like me either. Don’t deny it,” she warned. “Lying ages you twice as fast, and we both know you’re not as young as you used to be.”

  Rebecca opened her mouth to protest, but Cassie laughed. “I know, I know,” she said, pulling some clothes from the closet and tossing them at her sister. “You’re still younger than Elisa.” She grinned and walked out the door. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in five minutes. And wear that.” She pointed to the clothes in Rebecca’s hands and left the room.

  The kitchen was clean when Rebecca walked in. She looked at Michael. “That was fast,” she commented.

  “Elliot helped some.”

  “Thank you,” she told Elliot, who had pulled the pan out of the oven and was inspecting it. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Neither did you, last night.”

  Rebecca didn’t know what to say to that. “Well, thanks anyway.”

  Elliot stood up. “I think you could salvage this,” he said. “Was it supposed to be a quiche? It felt sloshy when I picked it up.”

  They both eyed the dish sitting on the counter. “That was the initial plan,” she admitted, “but I had to leave the kitchen for a few minutes and when I got back it looked like that.” The quiche, or what remained of it, looked like a pie with a very strange crust. “Cassie thought it would look prettier this way.”