Infinity: Based on a True Story

by Shanora Williams

  “Understand what?”

  “How I was stupid enough to let you go.”

  My heart thumps. I don’t blink or speak.

  He pulls his hand away, looking down at the white tablecloth. “It’s crazy ‘cause I’m running my own club in Wilmington. I have a nice home and nice cars and I eat well. There is never a day where I go hungry, never a day when I can’t provide for myself… but even with all of that, there is a price. There is always something that ruins it.” He looks up. “That something is how alone I feel. How I think about you every single fucking day, from sunrise to sunset. I can’t stop… which is why I came back to see you.” He releases a winded laugh. “I will tell you I was afraid to come back. I was scared to see you in the hospital.”

  “Why?” I whisper.

  “Because I didn’t know how I would take it. And because I know you deserve better than what you’re going through.”

  “This is my life, Max. It is what it is.”

  He blinks, now wearing a pained expression. “I know.” Sitting against the back of his chair, he looks from me to the window on his right. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about what I made you do.”

  “You didn’t make me do anything,” I say quickly. “I made the decision. I did it. You weren’t even there.”

  “But it was because of me—because you believed I would push you away instead of bringing you in. And I already had pushed you away. I was fucking stupid, Shannon.” He’s looking at me, eyes hard. He then leans forward, his face a touch softer. “Don’t you ever think,” he murmurs, “about where we could’ve been if you’d… kept the baby?”

  I sigh, dropping my eyes. “I think about it every day.”

  “I know you regret it. I could tell you regretted it when you told me it was gone. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve just manned up and gotten over my grief.”

  “Don’t say that,” I hiss. “Don’t. You were close to your parents. You needed to grieve that loss.”

  “But that time to myself is what made me lose you.”

  “You never lost me, Max.”

  He blinks slow, focusing solely on me.

  I continue. “Now that I’m sick and unable to carry a child, I do wish that I’d kept it. I wish that I never would have gone to that stupid clinic. I wonder every day if it would have been a boy or girl. I wonder what I would have named him or her…” My eyes burn with unshed tears. “Trust me, I wish I could go back, but I can’t. I live with that regret. I deal with it every day, and it hasn’t gotten easier.”

  He nods, lips twisting. “I don’t wanna ask, but I’m curious. Did you and John try for kids when the OP wasn’t too serious?

  “Yep,” I breathe, bobbing my head, “we tried. The doctor advised us against it, but he said since I wasn’t on the OPX we could try if we wanted to. He assured me there would be lots of complications for me, but not for the baby. I was willing to make that sacrifice. Unfortunately, each time resulted in a negative pregnancy test. Each time but once, anyway. But that one time I happened to… miscarry about ten weeks into it.” I press my lips and shrug one shoulder as if it doesn’t matter. “It would have been bad to keep trying and carry that baby anyway. A month later I found out I had relapsed.”

  “Oh… damn. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” The music fills the silence. I look up but Max is already staring at me, his eyes hooded. “Can I ask you a question?” I sit up straight, putting on a smile.

  “Oh, boy,” Max groans, sitting up as well. “By that smile I can tell I’m not going to enjoy answering this question.”

  “Whatever,” I giggle. “But I don’t get it… why you never tried to find someone else, I mean. You knew I was marrying John, but you were persistent.”

  He thought on that, allowing it to absorb before responding. “I wanted to win you back. Guess I just didn’t have the best of luck.”

  “What made you stop trying as hard?”

  “Shit, you seemed happy, Shannon. Seeing the pictures of you and him on Facebook made me realize that you truly were. I’d never seen so much light in your eyes. Even when you talk about him now, I see it. It stings, yeah, but that’s when I knew I no longer had a chance.”

  I look him over before looking away, unsure of what to say.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” he says as if he’s read my mind. “I think I know how you feel… somewhat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I can tell you still care for me a lot. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re afraid I’ll take it as a sign of you wanting me back.” He picks up his wine and takes a sip.

  “I don’t want to lead you on. It would be pointless, given that I’m married and because of the amount of time I have left.”

  “Hmm. I see.”

  Not too long and the waiter arrives with our meals. Luckily, we ordered light. I devour my pan-fried fish and asparagus, downing the croissants that come along with it.

  Max finishes his filet mignon and half the bottle of wine. By the end of dinner, he’s full of nothing but laughter.

  “I think you may have had just a little too much wine,” I say, fighting a smile as he plays with his fork.

  “Yeah right. I’m good. I feel good. If only you could drink.”

  “Ehh.” I shrug. “I’m all right. I don’t really miss drinking.”

  “You were pretty fun when you were drunk—not that you’re no fun now.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I pick up my water, taking a small sip.

  A new song plays and Max’s eyes light up. He stands, walking to my side and holding out his hand.

  I frown, looking up. “What are you doing?”

  “I’d like to dance with you…” His eyes are gentle. Comforting. “I promise I won’t ask you to do a jig for me.”

  My cheeks blaze as I grab the hand he offers, picking up my jet-pack and tossing it on my shoulder. He helps me put it on all the way then one of his hands goes to my waist, the other holding my left hand.

  I sling my arm over his shoulder, tilting my head as he moves to the middle of the floor and begins a slow dance.

  Most of the guests have left. Other than two couples eating, we’re practically alone. Max’s eyes never drift from mine. He holds me close, breathing softly. I ignore the way my heart races, the way I feel in this moment.

  I can’t deny that I feel alive. I can’t deny that while I waltz with him, I don’t feel sick. I feel like a healthy, normal girl. I can’t deny that Max has an amazing smile or that he smells so good.

  “Remember when I told you I was going to turn that one night you gave me into infinity?”

  “Yes, I remember. How could I forget?”

  He holds my hand tighter, reeling me in even more. “Well, I take that back. This is the night I want to turn into infinity. This is the night that I never want you to forget.”

  His face comes closer, our slow dance continuing. His forehead presses on mine, his lips only a breadth away. My breath catches, lips parting. Max’s eyes drop to my mouth, ready to consume me. All of me.

  He begins to lower his mouth to mine, but in that small amount of time—before his lips can dare touch mine—I think about my life. I think about what we were before and what we are now.

  Right now, we are just friends. And right now, I am a married woman in Paris with a man that is not her husband. I am a sick woman, a woman that needs care and attention, yet I’ve spent my time dilly-dallying and roaming a city that is full of adventure.

  In this moment, my life comes to a screeching halt.

  I pull back, dropping my arms as I take a large step away from Max. My eyes watch his. My body goes numb. I can feel the tears building up, ready to spill, but I remain strong because I would never in a million years do this to myself—do this to John.

  “Max.” My voice is low, my eyes hot with emotion. “I—I’m sorry.” I shake my head swiftly. “We can’t do this.”

  His h
ands drop to his sides, face going blank. He wants to speak—most likely apologize but I spare him from embarrassment, walking forward and looking up at him.

  “Oh,” is all he says. He runs a hand over the top of his head, releasing a painful laugh as he turns for the table and sits in his chair again.

  I follow after him, my steps cautious as I meet by his side. He doesn’t dare look up at me. He focuses on the floor, his face revealing a mixture of disappointment and disbelief.

  “Max,” I whisper, kneeling in front of him. My knees hit the floor, my hands grasping his.

  “What do you consider me, Shannon?” he asks, voice low.

  I study him and he finally looks at me, hurt. “I consider you a close friend.”

  “That’s it?” He focuses on my eyes. “Me and you can’t just be friends. You will always mean more to me than that.”

  I blow a breath. “I see that now.”

  His face is no longer hard. It’s soft, eyes gentle and caring. Seeing it gives me a small ray of joy. For a moment, I thought he’d hate me for stopping him, demolishing his ego. But he doesn’t hate me. He isn’t holding any hard feelings against me.

  When I look at him like this, he finally understands exactly where I’m coming from but deep down he wishes things were different.

  “Listen,” I sigh, standing up and sitting in the empty chair next to him. “When I decided to come to Paris with you, I was being completely selfish. I didn’t think about the one person that has been with me through the thickest and thinnest. I blink my tears away. “I didn’t think about John.”

  Max’s gaze darts away, any direction other than mine. I reach forward and grip his face, looking him straight in the eye when I’ve regained his attention.

  “I have had so much fun here with you. You’ve done for me what not many would. You are a great person and I of all people know that, but when it comes to this”—I point back and forth between us—“well, we just have to face it, Max. No matter how hard you try, how much I may miss you, or how great we used to be with each other, we’re just not meant to be together.”

  Defeat masks his face, his head dropping as tears pool in his eyes.

  I lift his head back up, watching the tears run free after he blinks. “I love you, Maximilian Grant. I truly do. But when it comes to my life and all I’ve been through, I believe John is the one I’m meant to be with. John was there when I was hurt and alone. John picked me up—he found me and made me whole again. He made me forget about my childhood and the dark parts. He made me realize that life can be beautiful, and those are only some of the many reasons I fell so hard for him. I love you, but I love my husband more.” His throat works hard to swallow.

  “After everything you and I went through, he was there. He found me. He saved me from falling. And since the day I met him, he has never left my side, even during the darkest of times. He worked hard to make sure I was always happy—hell, he still does. I’m in love with him, and that isn’t going to change, no matter how hard you try. I want you both in my life but he comes first. And I wish I’d just told him the truth about this trip.”

  I take a look around, stopping at the window ahead, absorbing the night sky, and bright lights. “I love Paris and I’m so grateful for what you did for me,” I look at him again. “But I don’t think it’s worth this guilt and regret, especially when John is the person who truly needs me right now.”

  Max looks up and his face is stained with tears. “What makes you think I don’t need you right now?”

  My lips twist as I think about his question.

  “When it comes to the life we live, you are much stronger than John. You both have lost loved ones and you’ve dealt with yours. But John… well, he hasn’t just yet. I think losing me will only make him worse off. Not better.”

  “So your man is weak?” he teases, and I light up, glad to see him smiling a little. Although it’s faint, it’s a smile.

  “My man is not weak. He has just had a very rough life.”

  Sighing, Max sits forward, squeezing my hands. “I understand where you’re coming from, Shakes. It was wrong of me to even try that shit over there, especially when I promised not to put you in a situation where you’d have to choose. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” He shrugs. “So maybe you’re not meant to be mine, but I know one thing. My love for you will never change.” He sighs. “Guess you’re the one that got away. I hear most men have a lady like that.”

  I push him playfully, fighting a grin. “Don’t think of me that way. I’m here for you. You know that. I just can’t be here for you in the way you want me to be.”

  He nods. “I understand.” We’re quiet for several seconds. Flicking his wrist, he checks his watch and his eyes expand. “Damn. It’s almost ten.”

  “Wow. This day went by way too fast.”

  Max calls for the waiter and asks for the bill.

  Once it’s paid, we’re out of the Eiffel Tower. The cool air envelops us, but I turn and look up at the tower again.

  At night, it looks even better. The bright gold lights are glowing and vibrant. Absolutely breathtaking.

  “Let’s go this way,” Max says.

  “Kay. One sec.” I have to capture this moment.

  I whip out my cellphone, snapping a picture. I then send it to Sonny.

  Sonny replies with “Lucky bitch.”

  I grin, and turn around, but someone bumps right into my shoulder, knocking me down to the ground.

  I tumble, grunting as the man shouts, “WATCH IT!”

  I want to shout, curse him out and knee his balls, but I can’t seem to find the energy or the breath to do so. I’m winded now, and it takes me several seconds to gain some sort of composure.

  I scramble for my cellphone that slid on the ground. The screen is now cracked. Great.

  “No! You fucking watching it!” Max barks, rushing up to the man, gripping his shoulder, and spinning him around.

  “No, Max,” I pant, clutching my phone and pushing off the ground. “It’s fine. It’s whatever.”

  “No, it’s not fine.” Max’s voice is dark and deep. He eyes the man directly. “You aren’t walking away until you fucking apologize to her.”

  I slide my phone into my backpack and turn to where Max is having a showdown with the burly man. The man is nearly bald with a large beer belly, his greasy face a huge turn-off.

  “Fuck off! She should watch where the fuck she’s going!”

  “Fuck you! How about you watch where the fuck you’re going! That’s a lady, man! She’s not from around here.” Max’s voice is loud and angry.

  “Max!”

  “Does it look like I give a shit!?” The man has to be from here. His voice is thick and holds a French accent.

  Is Max seriously about to get into a brawl about bumping into someone in a city full of tourists?

  Speaking of, said tourists and even a few civilians start to slow down and watch.

  “Max can we just go?” I ask, still catching my breath.

  I rush for him, ready to grip his arm and drag him away from this place, but before I can reach him, the man shoves him and then swings his large fist at him.

  Fortunately, Max ducks and the man misses, but he has no problem swinging back at the man. The man shoves Max again, causing him to bump into me, knocking me down once again.

  I land straight on my ass, yelping a bit from the pain. The ground is hard and cold, and suddenly I can’t breathe at all.

  My chest feels so much tighter. It hurts.

  Max and the man are on the ground, the by passers gasping, some rushing away.

  “Max!” I shout, my voice broken, dangerously windy. “What the hell are you doing?! Stop!”

  But he doesn’t stop. I’m not even sure he’s listening to me right now. Him and that temper. It’s so bad. It’s too much sometimes. And he won’t stop until he’s won.

  The fight seems to slow in speed. My heart is slamming in my chest. My lungs work hard to catch breath. I try
and say his name again.

  But I can’t.

  Trying to say it feels like razors are slicing the inside of my throat. The spot above my ribs burns.

  A symptom.

  A sign that something isn’t right.

  I manage to get Max’s name out again, only it’s much more quiet than I want it to be.

  He happens to hear it this time. He lifts his head, peering up at me, holding back on the fist that is about to crush the man’s face.

  “Shannon!”

  I try to push myself up to a stand, but it doesn’t happen. My knees lock, and I buckle back down to the ground.

  My heartbeat doubles in speed.

  Fear fills my veins.

  Blood rushes in my ears.

  “This is it,” I think. “I’m about to die.”

  I feel my chest going up and down, working way too hard to breathe.

  Before I know it, I am too sluggish to move. Something sharp pierces my ribs. I gasp and wheeze.

  What was I thinking?

  Why can’t I ever put myself first when it comes to him?

  “Shannon!” Max calls again.

  I lift my head up to the sound of his voice, spotting him several steps away. The man is still on the ground. They’ve both completely forgotten about the fight, eyes full of bewilderment.

  “Holy shit. Is she okay?” the man asks.

  “I don’t think so! Do something! Call someone!” I collapse, watching from a side angle as Max jets in my direction.

  I hear a cracking noise when I flop back on the pavement, unsure where it has come from.

  Maybe a bone has cracked, or I landed the wrong way. I don’t know anymore.

  Blood pools around my head.

  My vision blurs.

  “Max?” I whisper. “Max… what’s… what’s happening to me?”

  “Nothing’s happening. I’m here,” he murmurs. Something clinks and then Max curses beneath his breath. “Shit. You didn’t charge your device before we left? Fuck. I should have asked. I—I should have checked. Something was telling me to!”

  Damn. I knew I forgot to do something.

  I’m in Max’s arms the next second, but I can no longer breathe. I feel as if I’m suffocating, like a large plastic bag has been wrapped around my head.