The Choice Not Taken

by Jodi LaPalm

  Impulsively, he grabbed and pulled me around to where the deck draped a narrow path along the side of the lodge. Hidden between log walls and a snowy row of pines, he kissed me so passionately-and desperately-that I had no chance to fight. There amongst stacks of frozen patio chairs and piles of wet firewood, I held onto Philip as long as possible before finally shoving him off and racing inside.

  “Whoa! Slow down!” Ron exclaimed when I ran right into him.

  “I-I-I’m sorry,” I sniffed.

  “It’s all good, Courtney. I kinda liked it,” he grinned. Just then the band came back from break and began the first bars of a ballad.

  “I know you don’t dance, but we are kind of poised for it,” he observed, and I realized his arms were on my shoulders.

  “Um, sure,” I mumbled, throwing my wrap on a folding chair.

  Once on the parquet floor, he timidly grabbed for my hand. Placing mine within his, the odd feeling of his skin made the experience even more surreal than it was already. And as he awkwardly escorted me through the growing crowd, I closed my eyes to drown out their faces. Listening to one of my favorite songs brought little solace, and the foreign sensation of Ron’s palm upon my back led me to abruptly open my eyes in alarm.

  He wasn’t Philip. No man ever would be, I sulked.

  And as I spied him and his wife, on the far side of the floor, dancing like a happily married couple...I narrowed my eyes in disgust. As he gazed over her shoulder, I eluded his stare. Yet it had seemingly become a laser beam, and I alone was its target.

  Unable to freely move around the jam-packed floor, Ron settled us into one of the dwindling open spots. Flowing in tandem with the other bodies engulfing us, we never strayed, giving me a perfect view of Philip. And as he watched with wild heat and a tight jaw, my body inadvertently responded. Battling flushed cheeks and prickled skin, I became repulsed-yet excited-by the impact he had over me.

  It was only the second time in my life where I felt so unequivocally helpless. Maddening in every aspect, I drew my fiery gaze from his. But as soon as I did, Ron moved us, once again locking Philip in my line of vision.

  And though the hard edges of his face now softened, the power of his stare-and its severe longing-remained.

  broken

  Alone in the house one night, I busied myself by organizing the contents of my mother’s already tidy kitchen cupboards. And when the phone shrilled on the wall, I absently answered, assuming it to be my parents who were playing cards with friends.

  “Courtney?”

  I released no sound nor did I hang up.

  “Courtney?” Philip repeated. “Is it you? Please say it is.”

  “It’s me.”

  “Oh, Courtney!” he sobbed. “I’m dying without you. I miss you so much I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I’m skipping meetings...”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied coldly, but just hearing his voice renewed a warmth in my abdomen.

  God, I missed him so, I wept silently.

  “You have every right to be upset with me. What I did was not only unfair to you but disrespectful as well. But just seeing you at the Lodge. Kissing you. Then watching you dance with someone else...”

  “Are you still with her?” I interrupted.

  “Yes,” he muttered.

  “Then I don’t think we have anything else to discuss, do we?”

  “But it’s not working, Courtney! We’re holding it together for the kids, but I really don’t think it’ll last much longer,” he admitted. “I can only think of you.”

  “Philip, my position on this is firm.”

  “I know, and you’re 100% right, and I’m 100% wrong. I guess I just wanted to say I miss you,” he could barely mouth the words. “And I love you. I truly, truly do.”

  “So what would you like me to do?” I retorted.

  “I don’t expect you to do anything. I-I needed to be sure you hadn’t given up on me.”

  “I haven’t,” I lied. But what I didn’t divulge was how I’d already given up on me. And then strangely, my mind clicked. “Philip, I want to get together so we can officially put this behind us.”

  “Okay,” he eagerly complied. “Coffee at our usual spot? Same place and time this Saturday?”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you then.”

  Once I saw him everything changed. As he walked inside the shop, I became appalled at how clothes hung upon his body, dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his once-confident stride had been replaced with that of an aging man.

  Utterly despondent over finding him so broken, I contemplated how to fix it. Yet oddly, in the time he noticed me sitting in the corner, his entire demeanor changed, and the delight again returned.

  Only then did I realize, I was the sole solution to his problem. And despite any intention to callously tell him goodbye and move on, my heart warmed and my body burned. I became ashamed to realize I still wanted him even though he was living with his wife.

  She had her turn, I mentally argued. It was my time to have him.

  And have him I did. Without speaking a solitary word, we left, drove to a secluded boat landing closed for maintenance, and once again made love in his truck.

  Afterward, I was amazed at what little regret I felt. Incapable of denying the strength of our connection, I determined the relationship we built during their separation was indeed real and entirely worth fighting for.

  Sharp peals of laughter from a guest in the hallway startled me, and I jumped up and stumbled to the bathroom. Glancing over the symmetrical tile pattern soon made my head spin, and I splashed cold water on my face before staggering to bed and falling into its welcoming folds. I fell asleep within minutes and though it would be my best rest in over a week, it still became tarnished with too-real dreams.

  With Philip living at home, it was no longer easy-or moral-to be together. As a result, he’d often make excuses to be with me. Some nights he’d claim to work late while others might be spent at the cottage while she stayed in town with the kids. In the beginning, I agreed to this arrangement, assuming it was only a span of weeks before he left her altogether. Eventually, month after month passed by with no separation, no divorce, nothing.

  Regretfully, much of that time, I didn’t seem to care. I had my Philip again, which was all that mattered. Yet, like a virus, the reality of what we had essentially become soon began to eat at my inner core.

  That night, when we were to meet, was to be like every other-quick bite to eat and a few blissful hours of time alone. Our work schedules dominated much of the week so we arranged for a clandestine date at the cottage.

  When Philip called to say we needed a change of location, my torment from being in her space all but disappeared. However, the very fact we had to alter our plans because she was going there with the kids positively infuriated me.

  The wrath over such restrictions became further fueled by his recommendation we get a hotel room. Nevertheless, my desire to see him was downright overpowering, and I resolutely drove to the five-star accommodations on the outskirts of town.

  Approaching the luxurious building, the usual anticipation from just seeing him again remained absent. Instead, with each step through the plush hallway and up the gold-plated elevator, bizarre thoughts swept through my mind.

  What if she followed him here? I imagined with blatant paranoia. It was an entirely new concern of mine but seemingly very real.

  Perhaps she requested to spend the night at their cottage in an indirect attempt to divert us from meeting there, I plotted. Then, maybe she dropped the kids with a babysitter and trailed him out of suspicion. The disgusting vision of being caught by her tried to appear, but I shook my head, thus preventing it from actually materializing.

  Just then, the elevator arrived at its destination, causing my stomach to flip. Only this time it wasn’t due to the abrupt stop or my perpetual yearning for Philip.

  Staring out the gaping doors onto the meticulously decorated sitting area, I heard a father and son joy
fully race down the hall. I reflexively pushed the appropriate button, stalling its movement.

  “Thanks!” the man exclaimed. He hopped in, gripping the hand of an excited boy who appeared no more than five. They were clad in swim trunks with towels draped over their shoulders.

  In the unwritten code of elevator etiquette, we looked straight ahead as the car dropped down toward the lobby. And in that time, I became even more distraught over the unsullied lives of these two strangers. This hotel was intended for people like them, and the disturbing notion of Philip and I conducting our affair, in a room possibly near theirs, sickened me so that I held a palm across my mouth.

  Once they exited, I re-hit the button for the tenth floor. And this time when it stopped, I got off.

  Finding the room number given to me earlier, I waited outside before finally knocking lightly three times. I heard his steps anxiously move toward me, and I pictured him loosening his tie with one hand while gripping a bottle of wine in the other.

  The door flew open, and there he stood, as I imagined, only it was a full glass in place of the bottle. “Come here! Man, I’ve missed you so!”

  He reached for me, and my heart moved in response. My body, however, never crossed the threshold. He looked at me in question, and I fought the urge to sink into his arms.

  “I-I don’t feel so well, Philip. I think I need a rain-check.”

  “What’s wrong?” he worried. “Maybe you can come in and lie down.”

  “No. That’s not a good idea. I really just need to go home.”

  His face dropped as he said, “Of course, Courtney. You need to take care of you.”

  ***

  One evening, we sat down for dinner, and Philip proceeded to order the usual entrees and bottle of wine. And where I once enjoyed the predictability of our relationship, it appeared anything but stable. The spontaneous freedom of long hours together which brought me peace were now terrifying unknowns, leaving an uneasy gnawing in the pit of my stomach.

  The good times were no longer good.

  What’s more, when he talked about anything in his life, I pictured her sharing it with him. She hung over every word, every kiss, and every embrace. And I couldn’t help but wonder–yet I became too afraid to ask-if during all of this time, they’d shared a bed as well.

  Days and weeks soon became too much to bear, and my internal hate for her eventually spilled over onto him. In my eyes, he’d become unavailable.

  Yet even now-staring across the table at his handsome face, with its new lines of worry-I wanted him.

  I couldn’t let him go.

  Philip looked to me, and I guessed from his weary expression he continued to be haunted over the gravity of the situation.

  “Courtney.” And from his pause, I knew this wouldn’t be good. “I just don’t know how I can make the final choice; it’s too much for me to handle.” He wept quietly, and I slid around the booth’s edge to sit beside him. Holding his head in my hands, I moved it until his eyes latched on mine.

  “Philip,” I whispered. And with shaking thumbs, I wiped tears from the dark circles beneath his still-gorgeous eyes. His face so close, I could see the teeniest specks of color swirling around the pupils. I watched them, mesmerized by the hypnotic bursts of gold, green, and brown.

  I immediately wondered why I’d never noticed them before. How in all of our loving moments, had I never, ever detected such a glaring hint of their beauty? And suddenly, the horrifying notion of missing this new-found magic and all of the other things I had yet to learn about him created a numbing sadness. It was just too much–and so horribly unfair–that I almost changed my mind.

  “Philip. This can’t go on anymore. Us. It needs to end...now.” And once the words escaped my broken voice, I wanted to take them back.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “I-I can’t see you anymore,” I stated, forcing an image of his children–drawn from a glossy photo on the cottage refrigerator-into my devastated mind. For so long I icily ignored them, but tonight I fought to remember every detail of those two fresh-faced, smiling kids on the pier.

  “Why??”

  “I don’t want to be with a man who has all of this...drama.” But my secret thoughts betrayed me, and inside I screamed, I only want to be with you!

  “But I can-we can get through all of that,” he argued. “We already talked this over many times. You said my divorce, the kids...we could do it together,” he anxiously reminded.

  “I’ve changed my mind, Philip,” I said softly, rubbing his hand as it rested upon my thigh. Squeezing teary eyes shut, I urgently tried to create a permanent memory of his skin.

  I never wanted to forget how he felt.

  “I just don’t understand,” he whispered in complete surprise. “I guess I thought you wanted...”

  As he spoke, I carefully listened to the melodic layers of his voice. With its sexy pitch and confident tone, I hoped to replay the sound over and over when I was alone.

  And already, I feared the day I’d no longer hear him in my head.

  “I’ll always have wonderful memories of the time we spent together, Philip.” And now it became my turn to fight back ugly tears. “You’ve given me something so beautiful, and my life will be forever changed by knowing you.”

  Under wet lashes, his eyes begged me, and I seriously believed this was the moment I’d break and have to tell him the real truth–that I really wanted him! And I didn’t care if he stayed with his wife! Because when he wasn’t nearby, there was no air to sustain me.

  His stare reflected the deep pain I first noticed in that airport so long ago, and I wanted to replace it with our happy times, renew the boyish joy.

  Yet the desperate misery would somehow be what I’d remember.

  “Courtney,” he sobbed. “My precious Courtney. Please don’t do this. I need you! You’re in my brain before I even wake, and the last image I have when I fall asleep. Give me more time. I’ll work it out, somehow. I promise I will,” he pleaded.

  He leaned into me with outstretched arms, and I inhaled him. The mixture of morning cologne and fresh air created an intoxicating blend, and involuntary warmth raced up my thighs.

  Even now, I lusted for him!

  “Philip. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to,” I declared, wishing to make him finally agree, yet secretly hoping he’d try to talk me out of it. One final time. But he didn’t, and I felt sickening relief knowing I’d no longer need to watch him suffer.

  Our last kiss was bittersweet. I lingered, engraving his taste on my tongue, and pulled him back to do it again. And when he finally drove away, every pore in my dying body instantly wished to undo the damage. For now that the inevitable was done, I instinctively believed I should have begged him to stay.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  I needed to know he tried.

  rise

  Scorching light streamed through the sheers, and I wrapped downy quilts tight, watching as the rising sun painted my room in cheery shades of yellow and orange.

  I rubbed the corners of my inflamed eyes to release any fairy dust that settled overnight. And conjuring the magical name we used with the kids made me remember: today I was to go home. Amidst the obvious excitement of seeing them-god, how I missed them-came an underlying uncertainty.

  How would it be now? Easier...or harder?

  After taking an unusually long time packing and checking out, I headed for Dr. Benson’s office. Roaming cozy streets around the inn provided a simple sense of connection, despite the complex flood of memories. And as I traveled overly familiar roads toward my real life, old disturbances returned with every mile marker left in my wake.

  By the time I reached the looming Victorian, my anxiety was at near peak. I stumbled inside the waiting room and when I sputtered hello to the receptionist, she rushed toward me.

  “You look faint!” she exclaimed, guiding me into a chair before pouring a glass of water from the pale blue bubbler nestled alongside her desk
.

  Why had I never noticed it before? I questioned.

  Thirstily I drank it, offered my thanks, and then assured her I was fine-just missed my morning caffeine was all. She smiled sympathetically, and in the few quiet minutes I had to wait I collected myself.

  “Courtney! Come on in, please,” Dr. Benson peeked from her door. I dutifully followed her orders and plopped in my now usual seat. And she joined me a few seconds later.

  “So, I’ve been told you nearly passed out in the front office,” she said over lowered eyes.