Ghosts of Romances Past

by Laura Briggs

  “Of course I do,” she answered. Her finger traced his jaw tenderly, trying to reassure him. “I love you, Jamie.” The words were true, tumbling out impulsively.

  “Then say yes,” he whispered, so softly that Alice’s heart ached at the words. She bit her lip, feeling the tide of emotions washing over her.

  “I want to,” she answered. “I mean, you know how I feel.”

  “I trust you, if that’s what you’re saying.” He didn’t let her finish the words. “I just want to make you happy. That’s all.” He took her hands, his skin damp and cool against hers. She realized he was nervous; his touch seemed like a plea to her conscience. Don’t break my heart, Alice.

  It was the last thing on earth she intended to do.

  ****

  On Monday, she boarded the bus for home. The school had hosted a dinner for its students the night before, displaying their final projects on the banquet room’s walls. She was up at eight a.m. despite the late-night celebration, waiting outside the campus gates for her bus.

  Jamie stood beside her, clutching her hand with a tenseness that surprised her.

  “Let me know soon, will you?” He grinned.

  It was a fake smile, she knew; her own was forced as well as she hugged him goodbye.

  “I will,” she promised. He watched her board the bus, silent and morose with his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

  She waved goodbye through the window until he vanished from sight.

  Twelve hours later, she climbed out of the front seat of a station wagon parked at the front gate of her home. One of the bus station’s employees had driven her home personally. Visson, North Carolina was a small enough place that such things were still possible.

  The screen door banged open as her mother emerged, scrambling to help her with her suitcase.

  “I can’t believe you’re home, sweetie,” she said, wrapping her arms around Alice. “It’s been a whole month. Look at you, you’re so tan!” She reached down to take Alice’s suitcase. And spotted the ring on her finger.

  There were many moments of silence in Alice’s life which she regretted. That moment was possibly the worst in her memory. “It’s not what you think,” Alice said. Her tone had a defensive edge to it which surprised her.

  “I see,” her mother answered slowly. “Then what is it? Just a joke from some Cracker Jack box?” Her voice broke slightly.

  Alice licked her lips, bidding her tears to stay out of sight. “I was going to tell you about it. There just wasn’t a good time. And I didn’t realize how serious it was until he already asked me.”

  “And who is he?” her mother asked.

  Waves of heat rose in Alice’s cheeks as she avoided her mother’s gaze. Lugging the suitcase, she brushed past her and made for the stairs. “He’s the boy I wrote you about,” she answered vaguely. “He’s really nice. You’ll see. He’s a painter, and we became good friends the first few weeks. Then it got more serious.”

  How it got more serious she left intentionally blank. Because she wasn’t altogether sure she knew the answer.

  “Did you say yes?” her mother demanded. “Alice, tell me what’s going on here!”

  Alice dropped the suitcase on the steps. “I didn’t say anything, yet.” She reached up and brushed the stray curls from her forehead, tucking them aside.

  The lines in her mother’s face relaxed somewhat. “I see. So nothing’s final between you two.”

  “No.” Alice turned away. “Nothing’s final.”

  Her mother opened the door. The smell of lemon pie mingling with baked chicken made Alice’s mouth water in spite of her nerves. A shadow from someone in the kitchen fell across the hall floor.

  “Dolores, do these potatoes need to be in the oven?” her father called.

  “Coming, Ted,” her mother answered. She touched Alice’s hand. “Take it off,” she whispered. “Just for now. I don’t want your father to know about this yet.”

  Nodding, Alice obeyed. The ring slid out of sight, into the pocket of her jeans.

  Dinner was quiet, with her father immersed in the evening paper. Conversation between Alice and her mother was on life support, consisting of remarks about the heat, the subject of her last painting, the food served in the institute’s dining hall.

  “Another scholarship reply came today,” her mother volunteered. “I left the envelope in the hall with the rest of your mail.” She gave Alice a meaningful glance from above the rim of her water glass as she took a sip.

  Her father grunted. “Doesn’t that make five? Seems to me you need to open those and see which ones are possibilities before semester starts.”

  “I know, okay?” Alice snapped. “Just give me some time to get settled.” Her parents exchanged glances, her father looked puzzled.

  “I think that’s a little unnecessary, Alice,” her mother scolded. “All he pointed out was that you’ve got a lot of planning to do.”

  “You need to think about your future.” Her father pointed in her direction with his fork to emphasize his statement. “There’s some good schools in that pile. Especially that one from Canada you’re so crazy about.”

  “I heard back from the New Brunswick school?” She dropped her silverware with a loud clank. By far her first choice, the foreign exchange program was a long shot at best. Which hadn’t stopped her from praying to be a part of it ever since the moment she glimpsed its brochure packet in the high school art department.

  The rest of dinner crawled by, as Alice shuffled food around her plate. Afterwards, she carried the stack of mail into her bedroom and riffled through it until she found the crucial one. Hands trembling, she split open the envelope from The New Brunswick School of Fine Arts and Painting.

  “Dear Miss Headley,” read the opening line. “Congratulations on your acceptance…”

  She let her eyes drift shut, her heart slowly resuming its normal speed. Oh, thank you Father, thank you. For a glorious moment, she envisioned college life in another country, spending her weekends backpacking through unfamiliar cities and beautiful coastlines.

  Metal pressed against her skin, the hard object in her pocket. She drew the ring out and cradled it in the palm of her hand, trying to conjure the image of Jamie’s crooked smile, the way his tousled hair felt beneath her fingers.

  Could she ask him to move thousands of miles from friends and family? Then a strange realization. She had no idea what his family was like. Would they welcome her as part of their life? Or would they view her as an intruder, holding Jamie back from his God-given talent?

  She looked back down at the college letter, her gaze sweeping its contents. The scholarship promised books and tuition, along with a trip abroad to Paris. Her heart swelled with the possibilities, then came to a standstill as she read the following disclaimer:

  “As of this year, all freshman students must reside on campus, no exceptions.”

  “What?” Alice let the paper slip from her hands, her heart pounding in her ears. This twist in events seemed unfair, cruel even. No matter which dream she chose, her heart seemed destined to break.

  She kissed the ring and placed it in the top drawer of her dresser, beneath winter scarves and gloves. It was safe there, until she made her final decision. Downstairs, she could hear the sound of her mother’s voice on the phone, engaged in conversation with her Aunt Phil.

  “Of course she’ll go to the Canadian one, if it offers her a scholarship,” Dolores said, her voice brimming with motherly pride. “She’s talked about nothing else for two years. And goodness knows we could use the help on books and tuition. “

  Wrapping her arms around a pillow, Alice tried to imagine what to do. She couldn’t ask Jamie to wait a whole year before marriage. But she’d prayed and planned for this school since she was seventeen. Shouldn’t this acceptance letter be like a giant neon sign pointing her in the right direction?

  She tried to picture a different road—a life with Jamie in a tiny apartment somewhere, worrying about mutual bi
lls and family connections. Balancing their new relationship with classes, and part-time jobs. And then, maybe children.

  Children. It was something she hadn’t thought about before. Did Jamie want a family? Did she?

  The worried tears desperately wanted to come, but she wouldn’t let them. She couldn’t think about the moment when she opened the box and felt her world stop spinning for a split second. Heart thundering as he shoved the ring on her finger. The feeling that she was tied to another person for the rest of her life.

  For better or for worse, the vows claimed. Would Jamie be the better half, if she said yes? Or would things be worse than either of them realized, trapped with each other’s burdens and needs?

  The thought of telling her father was painful. The disappointed look in her family’s eyes when she announced she was all but eloping with some strange boy would rival any stupid mistake she made as a child.

  Her gaze wandered to the top of her dresser, piled with stuffed animals and her childhood teddy bear. A doll in a flouncy purple dress and hat was affixed to a plastic stand. Her childhood was crammed onto the bureau to make room for the more grown-up items in her room, the books and art supplies purchased for high school and college.

  Reaching up, she slid the drawer closed, hiding the ring from sight. Maybe it was time to let all of her childhood things go. Including those impulsive dreams that would never work.

  ****

  Two weeks later, she phoned Jamie to break it off. In the dark living room, she crouched in a corner with the phone on her lap while her parents were at the movies. Her fingers trembled as she dialed the number. Her voice broke as she stammered out the necessary words when he answered.

  “But why?” he begged, after a long silence on his end. “Why break it off like this, Ali? You said you loved me and you know how I feel—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “But we’re not ready for this. We barely know each other. It’s just too much, too soon. Think of all those years that are ahead of us.”

  “I did.” Jamie sounded bitter. “I thought about us being in them. I don’t know how to make you understand I’m not going to change my mind, Ali. I won’t give up on us just because it’s a hard road.” A pleading edge crept into his voice.

  “I’m sorry.” She sobbed, unable to choke back the hurt any longer. “Really sorry. I just can’t do this.” She hung up the phone before he could argue any further. In the dark, she wrapped arms around her knees and buried her face, crying until she saw the flash of her parents’ headlights as they pulled in the driveway.

  The last time she would hear Jamie’s voice would be on a payphone minutes before her flight to New Brunswick. She called to say goodbye, feeling hurt by the distance in his voice. It was as if all their weeks of friendship were wasted the instant he proposed.

  “I’ll send you back the engagement ring,” she said, after a painful pause. “As soon as I can—”

  “Keep it,” he answered. “I don’t have a use for it.” His words stung her heart.

  She swallowed and made herself sound as normal as possible. “Take care of yourself. I won’t forget you.” She was hoping he would say something equally warm in reply, to reassure her that she hadn’t broken his heart. All she heard was the sound of the click.

  Moments after she hung up the airport phone, her plane began boarding passengers. She collected her bag and gave her mother a farewell hug, feeling her mother draw back after a moment and stare into her eyes, past the redness from her tears.

  “Make me a promise, Alice,” she said, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Next time your heart is at stake, take the time before you say yes. Even if it’s just two or three days, wait and think it over. A whole lifetime depends on your answer.”

  Alice pictured the ring lying in her dresser drawer. “I will,” she answered. “I promise.”

  Ghosts Of Romances Past

  22

  Life at the New Brunswick School for Fine Arts and Painting should have been everything Alice dreamed of since eleventh grade. Among all the universities she’d gone over with school counselors, this one alone caught her imagination and held it fast. Rugged sea coasts, botanical gardens, and historic architecture. Plus the tantalizing promise of a semester in glamorous Paris.

  On first sight, the campus delivered everything the information packet promised. Her dorm room overlooked a majestic view and almost every facet of the school grounds begged to be put on canvas. No, the problem wasn’t with the anything the campus did have, but rather what was missing—Jamie.

  Her heart sank to her toes every time she recalled their last conversation, the hollow click of the phone on the other end of the line. He didn’t even say goodbye. Probably he hated her right now and hoped she failed miserably at the dream she chose. If so, he would be pleased with her current situation. Because she couldn’t remember ever feeling this lonely and heartbroken in her whole life.

  Did I make the wrong decision, Lord? A question she must have asked every other day. If this is where I’m meant to be, why do I feel so lost? The pain is almost physical.

  Her roommate, a burgeoning sketch artist named Nikki, possessed an endless supply of energy, participating in about a hundred campus organizations at once. In her spare time, she pushed Alice to go out with every guy who ever so much as smiled in her direction. “Don’t you get sick of being alone?” she asked, whenever Alice showed up at a school dance or recreation by herself.

  But how could Alice think of a new relationship when her heart belonged to someone hundreds of miles away? In another country, strange as that seemed.

  She never mentioned Jamie to any of her new friends or classmates. In fact, the only evidence she had of their relationship was a snapshot from their day at the photo booth. She tacked it on her bulletin board among numerous pictures of her family. Her eyes never failed to wander in its direction at least a dozen times a day.

  “Your brother is a major dork,” Nikki joked the first time she studied Alice’s collage. “Doesn’t he know shaggy hair is way yesterday?”

  Startled, Alice glanced up. “That’s not my brother…I mean, I don’t have a brother.”

  “Then who is it?” Nikki’s intently curious gaze traveled from the snapshot of Jamie to Alice. “You never mentioned a boyfriend—”

  “He’s just a friend,” she blurted, knowing her face was burning. “We met at an art school last summer. He paints.”

  “Oh…” Nikki studied the image from the photo booth with new appreciation. “He’s kind of cute. Aside from the geeky hair, I mean.”

  Alice pretended not to hear, as she bent back over her homework. He stayed on her mind, though, making all hope of concentration a lost cause. Which was how most of her homework assignments ended up being over the next weeks.

  Around November, her grades reached a low point, with professors scrawling messages like, “I know you can do much better than this,” in the margins of her sketches and blueprints. They were right, too. Thanks to Jamie, she no longer cared whether an image conveyed emotion or lay flat on the page. Details in a Grecian urn or an oriental rug were unimportant compared with the sense of emptiness she carried inside her heart.

  So she wrote him a letter, apologizing for how things ended, along with a tentative suggestion to be friends. And when no answer came, she called his room extension. He wouldn’t talk to her. She could hear him making an excuse in the background. She sent two more letters over a period of two months, with no response.

  Finally, the prospect of spending Valentine’s Day alone in her dorm room while everyone she knew had dinner reservations seemed unthinkable. Heart trembling, she called the airport and scheduled a flight to New York. If letters and phone calls didn’t get his attention, maybe a face to face meeting would.

  Valentine’s morning, Alice packed a day trip bag and set out for the airport in a red coat and tam. On her finger was the jade stone Jamie presented so proudly in that heart stopping moment on the school lawn. She twisted it
round and round as she stood in the security line, her mind playing out potential confrontation scenarios.

  What would she say when he answered the door? More importantly, what would he say? Something told her it would be a cold reception, considering how hard he’d worked to avoid her. Not that she blamed him. Just thinking about their goodbye phone call twisted her stomach in painful knots.

  Her features looked pale in the reflection of the airplane window, and by the time she reached New York, a relentless pounding invaded her temples. A quick train ride to Albany deposited her less than five blocks from the art school. Mistake or not, she couldn’t turn back. Her heart demanded an answer for its painful longings.

  Raw fear streaked up her spine as the taxi pulled through the gates of the New York Studio Art School. No one occupied the front desk, but she managed to find Jamie’s room number in the lobby’s resident phone book. Legs shaking, she climbed to the second floor and tapped on the door to room 206. Seconds later, it swung open to reveal a tall, beefy guy in athletic ware.

  “Hi…” She gazed past his shoulder to the cramped quarters. Bunk beds, two desks, stacks of paper, and lots and lots of dirty laundry. “Is Jamie here?”

  For a moment, the guy simply stared, a blank look on his face. “Jamie Lewison?”

  She nodded, a queasy sensation turning her stomach. Maybe she read the wrong room number. Or maybe he just had a class—

  “Jamie dropped out. About a three weeks ago, actually.”

  “Dropped out?” Alice braced herself against the door frame, as all the strength seemed to leave her body in a single whoosh. The pounding in her temples magnified and a sort of dizzy feeling seized her brain, making her sway to the side.

  “Yeah,” his former roommate continued, oblivious to her shock. “It was pretty sudden. His grades were slipping, and he wasn’t getting much sleep. Guess he couldn’t take the stress.”