A Knight to Remember

by Bridget Essex

  I realize, as I watch her, an odd little fact, something I didn’t think about until this very moment. Nicole? She doesn’t like to read books. I’ve never seen her reading anything but her phone or the paperwork that she’s brought home from the office. I mean, it’s not a bad thing. That’s just Nicole—she’s not a reader, and there’s nothing wrong with not being a reader.

  But I didn’t know what it would do to me, seeing someone I find so incredibly attractive…seeing her reading. Virago is beautiful, sitting there, reading that book, turning the pages with tapered fingers, her full lips pursed in concentration....

  So much emotion floods through me at that moment that it takes my breath away.

  God, I want her so badly in that moment, I don’t’ know what to do.

  I snap out of it, try to stomp down on all that emotion. I cough a little into my hand and Virago, a million miles away, raises her head and looks at me.

  The moment our eyes connect, she smiles so widely that the entire aisle seems instantly brighter, like someone turned on a second set of lights.

  My heart skips a beat as Virago rises, dusting off the bottom of her pants, holding the book elegantly in one hand as she strides toward me, prowling like a great cat.

  “Time ran away from me,” she says almost breathlessly as she leans against the shelf beside me. She stares down into my eyes, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing,” I tell her, reaching out between us and taking her hand. One of her brows rises, and she glances at me questioningly. I let go of her, feeling suddenly very self conscious.

  “Do you…do you want more coffee?” I manage to ask her.

  She smiles down at me, then, her smile deepening. “Yes, surely. That would be lovely.”

  “Keep…keep reading,” I tell her, patting the book in her hands. “We have comfortable chairs, if you want something nicer to sit on than the ground…” I gesture over to the wall of couches alongside the biography section.

  She shrugs, gazes down at me, her eyes flashing with a blue fire. “I’m fine here, Holly. Thank you. Don’t trouble yourself on my account.” She reaches out and grabs my hand at that moment, squeezing it gently before she lets it go.

  I turn away from her, practically holding my breath as I try to quell my heartbeat. I stumble, unseeingly, toward the coffee nook to make her a cup.

  I know what I’m going to do now. I just can’t fight against it anymore.

  I mean, yes, of course, tonight I’m going to break up with Nicole. It terrifies me, the thought of that painful conversation, but it needs to happen.

  Because after I do the right thing, after I end things with Nicole…

  I’m going to tell Virago how I feel.

  I spill a little of the hot coffee on my hand as I try to pour it into one of the old mugs by the coffee maker. It brings me back to reality, and I pour in a little cream and sugar into the mug, too. I can’t ignore how I feel about Virago anymore. To ignore it, I think, would be unnecessarily painful to me. So she’s heading home probably tomorrow. That’s all right. At least I can tell her.

  I turn and almost drop the mug of coffee because Virago’s there, just then. She reaches out and takes the mug from my hand, her brows furrowed.

  “What happened here?” she asks, turning my hand over gently to show the bright red welt I got from the hot coffee.

  “It’s nothing,” I tell her, shaking my head, but Virago doesn’t stop staring down at it. She sets the mug on the counter, and then smoothly, she’s down on one knee in front of me. I stare down at her, dumbstruck, as she closes her eyes, brings the back of my hand up to her mouth.

  She kisses me gently on the back of my hand, her warm lips so soft and tender that I shiver beneath that touch.

  For a moment, there’s a soft blue hue to the light in the coffee nook, and then the blue tinge is gone.

  And the red welt on the back of my hand is gone, too.

  Virago stares up at me. I stare down at her.

  Her beautiful, full lips tug into another smile, and Virago gets up gracefully, taking up the mug of coffee from the counter and taking a very slow, calculated sip.

  “It’s very good,” she tells me with a casual wink. “Thank you.”

  I watch her prowl back to her aisle and her book before I realize that my mouth is open.

  God, I can’t take much more of this.

  I have to tell her.

  Tonight.

  ---

  I don’t really remember the first moment that I realized my relationship was going south. I wish that I could pinpoint the exact moment that I knew things weren’t working out as well as I’d hoped between Nicole and I, but it didn’t really happen like that. It was more of a gradual decline, what this relationship turned into. I didn’t wake up one morning and realize that she didn’t love me anymore. That, perhaps, I didn’t love her anymore, too. It just slowly and painfully turned that way, our relationship transforming from something healthy and good to something that neither of us should have been in. Until we arrived here.

  I take a deep breath, and I knock on Nicole’s door.

  I drove Virago home after work. Things were strangely quiet in the car. I’d checked out the medieval history book on my library account for her, and she was flipping through its pages as she leaned back in the passenger seat, not saying much until we got home.

  “You go to do something important this evening, don’t you?” she asked me quietly. I nodded to her at that, uncertain of how to tell her exactly what I was up to. But she didn’t ask anything else. She only reached out, touched my cheek with a beautiful, warm finger and traced a curve over it as she studied my face.

  “Goddess go with you,” was all she said then, and she’d turned slowly and gone into my house to let Shelley—who was much more excited to see Virago than me—out for a bathroom break.

  Which left me in my car to drive to Nicole’s.

  Nicole lives in a super expensive condo building right in the heart of Boston, which I’d always thought was a beautiful place to live. I love my city—if I could afford it, I would live right in the heart of Boston, too, but I’d never choose to live in her building. For one thing, the condos there are way too expensive for a librarian’s salary, and for another, the people in her building just aren’t really my kind of people. They’re all the thirty-something executive types at start-ups, all worked to the bone and too exhausted and stressed out to ever even tell me “hi” when I meet them on the elevator up to her twelfth floor condo.

  I take a deep breath as I stand outside of Nicole’s door, waiting. I square my shoulders, rehearse (for the millionth time) what I thought I might say to Nicole.

  But that all leaves my head when the door opens, and it’s not Nicole who greets me, but her assistant, Mikaylah. Mikaylah happens to be about twenty-one, model-like and utterly perfect (if you’re into that sort of thing), with long, straight black hair, and an unwavering smile.

  She stood there with that unwavering smile as she clutched an iPad to her chest and waved me in. “Miss Holly, you’re right on time,” she told me with her best soothing voice that I knew she’d used on Nicole’s problem clients. “Right this way. Nicole has exactly one hour free, so this is just perfect.”

  “One hour?” I reply, my brow up, but her smile deepens, and she nods enthusiastically.

  “She made me check and double check her appointments so you could be assured that much time. This way, please…” She continues to clack over Nicole’s expensive tile with her high-heeled shoes.

  “I think I know my way around Nicole’s place, Mikaylah,” I tell her gently.

  “Of course, of course,” she says with another nod. “Do you need anything? An espresso perhaps?”

  I’m boggled that Nicole’s condo has apparently also been transformed into Nicole’s office, or at least Nicole’s second office. That Nicole’s assistant is here means that Nicole has been working even more non-stop since
the Renaissance Festival, and…

  “Holly.”

  I turn, sigh out.

  “Hello, Nicole,” I tell her.

  Nicole is dressed in another blue business suit, a frown already transforming her pretty face into an unhappy mask as she folds her arms and stares at me with an unhappy expression.

  “You’re late,” she tells me, and then she turns without another word and walks into her bedroom as if she expects me to follow her. Mikaylah stares at me helplessly with a shrug, and then trots off toward the kitchen, leaving me alone.

  I follow Nicole into the bedroom and shut the door.

  “I was here right on time,” I tell her with a sigh. “Your assistant was asking me if I wanted coffee—”

  Nicole has her back to me, and she’s paging through something on her laptop, which is set up on a desk right across from the sumptuous king size bed. The bed that Nicole and I have spent a lot of time in. But not recently, these last few months. Hardly at all, actually.

  Nicole turns, again not looking directly at me. Her jaw is clenched as she stares at a spot a little above my shoulder. “I have something to say to you, Holly,” she growls.

  I stand there straight and tall, holding my purse. She’s not told me to get comfortable, and at this point, I don’t feel enough at home to take the liberty to do so myself.

  I watch her, and I wait, my heart beating fast.

  “Mikaylah and I have been sleeping together,” says Nicole, clipping the words out like she’s reciting by-laws at a meeting. “For over a year now.”

  I stare at her.

  I don’t really feel anything when she tells me that, which is strange. I probably should. I know I will later.

  But now it’s in the moment, and this isn’t going how I thought it’d go. Everything’s unraveling. I feel like I’m struggling to catch up when it shouldn’t have been this way. I should have been the one to start it.

  But it’s already started.

  “I…I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Nicole,” I tell her softly. The words are choked out with emotion, which surprises me. I didn’t think I was feeling anything yet…

  That’s when it all comes crashing down on me.

  I’m filled with so much intense emotion that moment, that this is all I am: hurt, betrayal, anger, and an intense sadness that fill and consumes me at the same time, like a fire ripping through me.

  “I agree with you completely,” says Nicole, crossing her arms in front of her. She holds my gaze now, and, God, how stony her eyes are. “I’ve taken the liberty to pack up the few things that you had here.” She gestures to a paper box with a snug-fitting lid beside her on the desk. “So you can be on your way.”

  I stop at that, tears filling my eyes. I take a single step forward, take a deep breath. “That’s…it?”

  She’s already clicking at things on her laptop, already turned away from me. “I don’t have time for much else,” she says with a tight, controlled sigh. “Mikaylah can see you out.”

  “No,” I tell her, rolling my shoulders back, blinking back the tears. “You owe me more than that. You’ve been sleeping with her for a year—”

  “I should have ended things with you a long time ago,” says Nicole, glancing at me then with sharp eyes. “But I didn’t have the time for this relationship. You and I. Mikaylah has been open and accommodating with the type of relationship that we have had, and it’s been very helpful to me.”

  Frustration claws at my insides. She’s treating this—and me—like it’s a year end review. Not the end of a relationship that had existed for four years.

  “You cheated on me,” I tell her angrily.

  She shrugs. And she says nothing else, only goes back to looking at her laptop.

  Like I’m not worth the time.

  Like I’m not worth an explanation.

  And I know I’m worth both.

  “Nicole,” I tell her, stepping forward as I grip my hands into fists. “You cheated on me with your assistant. You were always so…so selfish. And I never saw it because I was trying to see the best in you—” I’m spluttering. I want to hurt her, in that moment, as much as she’s hurt me, but I’m already deflating. And I don’t really want to hurt her. I stare at her for a very long moment, at this woman who I thought I had feelings for, this woman who I’ve spent years of my life with. Wasted years of my life with.

  Nicole is shallow. And selfish. And unkind. And maybe I did discover all of that too late. Or maybe I refused to see it from the start. Maybe I was blind.

  And maybe I should have never been with her from the start.

  But I was. I was with Nicole, and I’ve got to own that fact. I’ve got to own the fact that we should have broken up a long, long time ago, but I kept nursing the relationship so that it could limp along because it was the easiest of all the options. It was easier than admitting that I’d failed when I’d tried to find a girlfriend who was right for me. I’d failed our relationship.

  And yes, Nicole should never have cheated on me. She should never have been so distant and unkind and selfish. But perhaps to someone else she wouldn’t be.

  Perhaps to Mikaylah she’s perfectly wonderful.

  “Goodbye, Nicole,” I tell her, because there’s absolutely nothing left to say. I turn on my heel and I open the bedroom door, tears standing bright in my eyes as I move through her condo, toward the front door.

  “Wait,” Nicole calls from behind me.

  I stop. I don’t turn. I hear her high-heeled shoes clicking on the tile, and then Nicole’s beside me. Sometimes she used to wrap her arms around me from behind, kiss the top of my head, draw me close and hold me close. I always liked that. And it would be wonderful for her to do that again, for her to tell me that she wished me well. But she doesn’t do that. She hands over the box of my things, carefully training her gaze on the far wall, and not looking at me.

  Mikaylah, frozen in spot like a rabbit sighted by a hunter, stares at me with wide eyes and an open mouth.

  But I walk away from both of them, closing the door behind me on the way out.

  It’s over. It was messy and it was painful and hard and hurtful, but it’s over.

  I don’t start really crying until I get to my car with my small, paltry box of possessions. The only few pieces of my life that had remained at Nicole’s place. I’m pretty certain there’s nothing of Nicole’s at my house for her to take.

  God, no, we weren’t right for each other. But I’d cared so much for her, and I’d wanted her to care for me, too. But it’s over, now. Nicole has Mikaylah, and I know that in a few days, I’m going to hope that they’re happy together. I’m not exactly at that point right now.

  And me?

  Well, I don’t have anyone.

  I know I’m feeling very sorry for myself right now, but it’s the truth. I’m going to go home, and I don’t have the strength to tell Virago how I feel about her tonight. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, I’m going to crawl into bed, and I’m going to have myself a very good cry.

  And I’m going to fall asleep alone.

  I feel a little stupid. Maybe I should have told Virago sooner, maybe I should have flirted with her, or maybe I should have kissed her when I wanted to. I didn’t because of Nicole, but now I feel like I’ve been naive. An entire year Nicole and Mikaylah were sleeping together, and I didn’t even notice anything between them? A couple of months ago, I went down to Nicole’s office to see her, and Mikaylah greeted me as brightly and nicely as she always does…as she did today.

  There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that told me that Nicole and I were much, much worse off than I’d imagined at that point.

  But we were much worse off. And we’d been worse off for so long, that maybe I just thought that’s how relationships should be.

  God, how did I make such a mess of things? How did it come to this? I feel so used and sad and small. I start the engine to my car, take a tissue out of my purse and dab at my eyes, crumpling
the soaked thing into a ball.

  Somehow, miraculously, I make it back home in one piece, even with my blurred-from-tears vision.

  I park the car, get out of it, stop when I shut the door, because Virago is sitting on the porch, on the swing, rocking it back and forth with the tips of her toes as she reads her book, her head bent, her brow smooth, but her eyes narrowed in concentration. She glances up only as I start up the walkway from the sidewalk and she hears my feet on the concrete. Virago glances up at the sound and she smiles at me, but that smile vanishes almost instantly as she rises to her feet, as her brows narrow when she sees my expression.

  “What happened?” she asks, moving toward the steps as I ascend them. I shake my head, sniffle as I jingle my keys, aiming for my front door, but Virago stops me, puts her warm hand over mine.

  Tears begin to fall down my face quickly, one after the other, tracing hot, wet patterns down my cheeks as I glance up at her.

  “Oh, God, Virago, I’ve made a terrible mistake,” I tell her, then.

  Virago says nothing, only wraps an arm around me and my shoulders, and gently urges me to come sit beside her on the swing. The swing shifts out from beneath us as we sit down, but then I’m pushing with my feet flat on the floor, and the swing moves back and forth, back and forth, the soothing rocking motion that I love as I shift my weight on the seat with a long sigh.

  Virago, I note somewhere in the back of my head, still has her arm around my shoulders as she sits down next to me. Her arm is warm against me, she is warm against me.

  “Virago,” I tell her, taking a deep breath. “I had a girlfriend, too. Or I did. Until tonight.”

  She doesn’t say anything, and my eyes are too tear-filled to see her very clearly, so I just keep going.

  “I knew I was supposed to break up with her for a very long time, but I just…didn’t. And I found out tonight that she’s been sleeping with her assistant for over a year. A year. And I never saw it, never thought she was capable of it…” I trail off, because the tears are coming too thickly now, and my heart hurts so much, twisting inside of me.