Broken Promises: The Last Gift
(This is Chapter One of my unpublished contemporary romance novel. The sequel to this novel is 60% complete.)
Isabelle
Brave. Courageous. Strong. These words make me ill. People mean well, using them to describe me, but I hate it. I pretend I’m all those things, but I’m not. They say I’m brave, but they can’t feel me shake when someone mentions Sam’s name. They say I’m courageous, but they don’t see me hiding under the covers at night. They say I’m strong, but they don’t hear me cry myself to sleep. In what seems like nanoseconds, my life has gone from glorious Technicolor to gray. I’m drowning in despair and loneliness and there are moments, brief ones, that I just want to slip under their waves and let them consume me.
My flight leaves in five hours and despite the fact that sleep these days is all but unheard of, I only started packing an hour ago. Sadness weighs heavy on my heart as I reach for the dress he bought me for this trip. The memory of the night he gave it to me paralyzes me and I freeze. Thoughts of Sam’s memorial service keep playing over and over in my mind like a bad movie I can’t turn off. If I didn’t know better I’d think that the Grim Reaper had targets on the backs of everyone I love. I thought losing my parents so young had hardened my heart to loss, but I was wrong. Sam found the key to my heart and once it was opened up to love again, that gave pain easy access. I thought I had buried that pain years ago, but Sam’s death has brought all those painful memories flooding back to the surface. I want to run and hide behind the wall that used to protect my heart, but it’s gone. His love blew it apart, leaving nothing but rubble in its wake, and now the shattered pieces of my broken heart are scattered amongst the rubble. I feel raw and exposed in a way that I never have before and now there’s nowhere to hide.
Just as a tidal wave of darkness and anxiety are about to engulf me, my phone rings providing a welcome distraction from my misery. Without even looking, I know who it is. My best friend, Lexi. She always has a knack for knowing when I need her. We share a bond that would normally take most people a lifetime of knowing each other to achieve; which is strange, because we only met two years ago when she came to work for the photography studio I was interning at. I pick up the phone and before I can even attempt to speak, Lexi jumps right in.
"Are you all packed?"
My emotions and sheer exhaustion render me speechless. I open my mouth to respond but the only thing that comes out are sobs. I honestly don’t know how I even have any energy anymore, it seems like all I’ve done for the past four weeks is cry. It’s almost as if all of the bottled-up, unshed tears of my parents’ death have combined with my current grief. I’ve spent years denying myself the release of my tears, and the dam has finally broken. And. I. Can’t. Get. It. To. Stop. A part of me misses the strong woman who only six months ago would have been able to choke back these tears.
"It’s going to be okay, Izzy."
How can you be so sure? I don't know how I'm going to get through this week."
It's amazing that she understands me through all the garbled sobs.
"You’ll get through this next week just like you got through the last four weeks, by taking it one day at a time. You need to take a deep breath and relax."
Her words are calming and I am grateful she called when she did because I was starting to have second thoughts about taking this trip.
"Thanks, Lexi. How do you always know exactly what I need to hear?"
"Because I’m wise beyond my years, of course," she laughs, putting me at ease yet again. "Do you think you’ll be ready in about an hour?"
"Are you sure you have time? I am capable of driving a car, you know. Maybe it would be best if I drove myself, then I wouldn’t have to bother you to come pick me up in a week."
"Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting rid of me that easy. I don’t want you sitting all alone in the airport. I’m taking you. End of story."
She’s using her full-on New York accent, so I know she means business.
"Finish getting ready and I’ll see you in an hour. We can grab a bite to eat on the way to the airport."
"Well, if you insist, I’ll be ready. I only have a few more things I need to pack."
After we hang up I take a deep breath and pick up where my wayward thoughts had sidetracked me, getting the dress Sam bought me for this trip. I open the closet door and reach for the black garment bag. I honestly don’t even know why I’m bringing it, but Lexi insisted on it. I tried explaining to her that I didn’t even think I was going to wear it. As far as I was concerned, this trip was a mere formality. I am going to do what I have to do to get through it and I don’t plan on "dressing up" or "having fun." I take the bag out of the closet and lay it on the bed. I slowly unzip the bag…it’s been three months since I last looked at it. It is a silk, strapless, floor-length gown with hand-sewn Austrian crystals on the bodice; in my favorite color, lavender. I pull it out and run my fingers over the crystals and the memory of the day I got it comes rushing back. The floodgates open and here I stand, yet again, crying like a fool.
I wipe the tears away and carefully place my dress in the suitcase I had gotten at my bridal shower only six months ago. This wasn’t quite the trip I had in mind when I imagined the first time I’d be using it. I zip the suitcase up and place it on the floor beside my bed. I turn to my nightstand and pick up the last thing I need to pack, and I cry uncontrollably as I gently place it in my carry-on bag.
Next, I mentally check off my to-do list. Shower. Check. Pack. Check. Tickets and I.D. Check. Get dressed. Che…I look down…still in your robe genius! I grab my favorite pair of Juicy Couture sweats and my favorite t-shirt – Sam’s old college t-shirt. Yeah, this will do. I am certainly not out to impress anyone. I’d prefer to be invisible, but I’ll settle for plain and ordinary. I put my hair up in a ponytail, throw on some mascara, and head downstairs to wait for Lexi.
As I make my way down the stairs, my phone rings again. I look at the caller ID and see that it’s my Aunt Pheobe. I’m so not up for this argument…again. I brace myself as I press the button to answer the phone.
"Hey, Izzy. I wanted to say goodbye before you left, sweetie."
So far so good.
"Thanks for calling," I reply, "I’m all packed. Lexi should be here shortly."
"I’m glad she’s taking you. Listen, sweetie, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I needed to hear your voice before you left to make sure you were okay. I really wish you’d reconsider. I still don’t think this trip is a good idea. Why would you want to put yourself through this added stress? I know he’d understand if you couldn’t do it."
And there it is.
"I appreciate your concern Aunt Pheobe but this is something I have to do, so please stop trying to convince me not to go."
"Oh, sweetie, please don’t be mad at me. You know I only want what’s best for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted since your parents died," she replies.
And now she’s crying. Great. I’m such an ass.
"I know and I’m not mad. Please don’t cry. I just stopped, and if I start again I may never stop. You’ve always been there for me and I know you have my best interest at heart, but please try and understand why I need to do this."
"I’m trying, sweetie. Really, I am. I had to make sure that this is truly what you want, and I can hear it in your voice that it is. I’ve got to be getting to work, so give me a call when you get back, okay?"
"All right, I will. Goodbye, Aunt Pheobe. I love you."
"I love you too, Izzy."
I hang up the phone and once again I am alone with my thoughts, which only seem to haunt me. Lately I find myself torn between needing to be alone and my fear of being alone. Sometimes I don’t know what’s worse, the deafening silence of my solitude, or the awkward silence that is inevitable whenever I am with other people. I glance at my phone and see that I still have twenty minutes before Lexi is supposed to pick me up. I try to think of something to do to keep my mind from wandering but it’s no use. As hard as I try to put thoughts of Sam out of my mind, I can’t. There’s only so much I can do to distract myself and that distraction is usually short lived. The moment I find myself without something to keep me busy is the moment the memories creep back in. They have a life of their own and they always leave me gasping for air. This is what happens when you let people in, it makes you weak. Dependent. Why did I let him in? How could I have been so careless as to let him break down the wall I had built to protect myself? Now that I think about it, the first crack in that wall was made by Lexi. She stormed into my life like a bull in a china shop and everything just went to pieces from there. She’s the first real friend I’ve ever had. It was because of her that I met Sam.
Sam was a force to be reckoned with, both in and out of the courtroom. He swept in and stole my heart. I didn’t even think that was possible. In fact, I would normally laugh at the girls who’d swoon and go gaga over a guy, claiming exactly the same thing – that their hearts had been stolen. But that’s what he did, from the moment I met him. I didn’t want him to. I fought it every step of the way, but he wore me down with his kindness and patience. He filled my world with sunlight and warmth and now he’s left me in the dark, frozen from the inside out. My tears, on the brink of surfacing again, are interrupted by the doorbell. It’s Lexi. As usual, her timing is perfect and I’m so relieved.
"Hey, you’re early."
"You sounded a little upset when we spoke, so I thought that you might like the company," she says.
"Well, as usual, you’re right. I’m so glad you’re here."
I give her a hug and she holds my embrace a moment longer and then gives me an extra squeeze. It’s her signature hug lately; her way of saying "I know things suck right now, but it will be okay" without actually having to say it.
"I don’t know about you, but I’m famished," she says.
My stomach turns at the mere mention of food.
"To be honest, I’m not really that hungry, but I could go for some coffee."
"Well, then coffee it is. Where are your bags? I’ll go put them in the car for you."
"I put them by the door. I’ll meet you in the car. I have to turn the alarm on."
As she grabs my bags and brings them to the car, I take one last look at the home that has become my prison for the last four weeks. With trembling fingers, I set the alarm and walk out the door. Here goes nothing.
*****
On the way to the airport we stop at my favorite bakery. I had only planned on having coffee – they have the best coffee – but the enticing aroma of bread baking makes my mouth water. The croissants, with all their buttery, flaky goodness are calling out to me. I close my eyes and savor each bite as the buttery layers melt in my mouth. They are as scrumptious as they look and much to my surprise I have two and get one to go, which is the most I’ve eaten in a couple of days. My newfound appetite must be due to the "Lexi Effect." I feel so much better just having her around. With her, I don’t have to put on appearances, or pretend to be happy if I’m not. I don’t have to worry about awkward silences, because there aren’t any. She doesn’t force conversation on me, she is just there for me and that’s exactly what I need. It is such a relief to be able to be around someone and not worry that I am making them feel uncomfortable.
After breakfast we get on the Garden State Parkway and head for the Atlantic City Airport. We go over my itinerary and Lexi makes me promise to text her at least once a day. Traffic is pretty light and we pass the time with some conversation and music. The closer we get to the airport, the more nervous I get. So nervous, in fact, that I don’t realize I’m gripping the seat for dear life. Lexi notices and smirks at me.
"What did that seat ever do to you?"
"I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was doing that," I apologize, "I guess I’m a bit more nervous than I let on. See, I told you I should have driven myself, then I wouldn’t be taking my nervous energy out on your baby."
"You know I was only joking. You can tear that seat to shreds if it will make you feel better."
We are now minutes away and my heart takes a nosedive into my stomach as I see the signs for the airport. Lexi grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze as she turns into short term parking. She parks as close to the entrance as she can and we get out. With a deep sigh, and hands that won’t stop shaking, I get my luggage out of the trunk. As we make our way towards the entrance I keep willing the doors to be further away, but it doesn’t work. The week I have been dreading is finally here and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Well, that’s not true. I could decide not to go, but I owe it to Sam to be strong. Instead of focusing on my nerves, I force myself to remember how much I love traveling. The anticipation of going somewhere you’ve never been and seeing things you’ve never seen before is a feeling unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. This is the first trip I've taken where I didn't bring my camera with me and it makes me feel a little lost. There was something about photographically documenting a trip to spread your husband's remains that just didn't sit right with me. Lexi thought it would be a good distraction but she lost the battle on that argument. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
The airport is full of people coming and going. If you pay close enough attention you can tell by their expressions which travelers are arriving and which ones are departing. Those arriving from their destinations often look relaxed and somewhat melancholy. Those departing often have expressions of joy, excitement, and anticipation. I wish I could be happy about this trip, but I can’t. I am relieved to be getting out of the house, though.
After I check my bags, we take a seat in the waiting area outside the gate entrance because Lexi wants to wait with me until it is almost time for me to board the plane.
"Aunt Pheobe tried to talk me out of going again," I say, out of the blue.
"Well, I can’t say I blame her. You know I support you completely, but I must say I’m a little confused myself," Lexi admits.
I clutch my bag to my chest as I realize that I’ve been carrying around the burden of his secret for far too long. I need to tell her what happened.
"Do you remember the day I asked you to drive me to the bank?" I ask.
"Yes," Lexi replies, "You emptied out Sam’s safe-deposit box that day, right?"
"Yes. Among the documents I found a letter that he left for me."
She reaches over and grabs my hand.
"He had written the letter three months earlier...actually, the day he surprised me with this trip."
With trembling hands, I reach into my purse and pull out an envelope that looks much older than it actually is.
"I’d like to read it to –"
Lexi puts up her hand to stop me.
"You don’t have to do this. That is personal, between you and Sam."
"You’re my best friend, Lexi. I know he would have wanted me to share this with you. It has been such a burden carrying this around with me. I need to do this."
She shakes her head in agreement and I begin to read her Sam’s letter.
My Dearest Izzy,
First, my love, I must beg your forgiveness because if you are reading this, I am no longer with you. It also means that I did not make it to our honeymoon, and for that, I am deeply sorry. Not taking you on a honeymoon right after we married will always be my biggest regret.
About a month ago I went to see my doctor for the headaches I had been having. Do you remember? You kept nagging me to go get checked out, but I insisted that I was fine. Well, I finally decided to go to the doctor, and I didn’t tell you because I thought it wouldn’t amount to anything. As it turns out, things were not fine. They found a tumor, Izzy. Glioblastoma, to be exact.
Right now you probably feel like someone punched you in the stomach, but I hope that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me. My doctor says that while there are treatment options to help prolong my life, there is nothing that can be done to save my life; and so did the two other doctors I sought out for a second, and a third, opinion. Most of the recent "work" trips were actually for those consultations.
My plan is to tell you after our honeymoon and then together we can choose the best treatment plan. I’m not going to be able to give you the forever I promised and I don’t want our remaining time together to be filled with hospitals, IV’s, and noisy machines. I want one last good memory together before my illness takes it all away. The doctors tell me that there is a risk in delaying treatment, but it is a risk I am willing to take. I know that’s selfish, but I am hoping to make it to our cruise. I want you to have the magical honeymoon that you deserve without my illness looming over us. I’m writing you this letter in case I don’t make it, because you deserve an explanation and as I sit here and write these words, my heart bleeds.
Tonight I surprised you with our cruise and gave you your dress. You’ve never looked more beautiful. As I lay here next to you, watching you sleep, I hope you know how much I love you and how happy you’ve made me. I also want you to know that I’m drinking in every moment I get to spend with you and cherishing it.
I do have one last request. I know this might sound crazy, but I still want you to go on our trip. I would like you to spread my ashes somewhere beautiful and when you do, remember that what we had, although brief, was the most beautiful thing in my life. I have made it clear to my attorney that these are my final wishes, hopefully preventing my parents from giving you any grief. I know they didn’t approve of our marriage, but I hope you know that I don’t regret choosing you over them. It was the best decision I ever made. The second best decision was leaving everything I have to you, including my shares in my father’s company. It gives me peace knowing that even though I won’t be physically here for you, I know you will be taken care of financially.
If this is asking too much of you I will understand, but I hope that you can use it as a time to heal and let me go. You are so young and beautiful. I do not want you to stop living. Life is too short, so please don’t waste a second of it. I want you to move on and find love again.
Do it for me, Izzy.
I will love you always,
Sam
I somehow manage to read the entire letter without crying, but upon finishing I break down. "How can someone who claims to love you, lie to you about something so important? I don’t understand. It kills me to think that I really didn’t know him at all. I guess that’s what I get for marrying a man after only knowing him for a few months. I know that sounds awful, I mean, I know he loved me, but I’m still so angry that he didn’t tell me."
"I’m so sorry, Izzy," Lexi replies.
I look up at her and see that she is crying, too. My tough New York friend is at a loss for words. I think this is a first. Unaware of how long we have been sitting here, I am surprised when I hear the overhead announcement saying that they are starting to board my flight. I jump up and wipe the tears from my eyes.
"That’s me. I’ve got you all upset and now I have to leave."
"Don’t be silly. Get on that plane. We’ll talk more when you get back."
We hug goodbye and she gives me an extra "squeeze" like she always does.
*****
After I hand my boarding pass to the flight attendant, I walk down the ramp to board the plane. I hope that I will be lucky enough to be sitting alone. I am not up for polite conversation with a total stranger. I don’t want to have to answer the typical questions that traveling people often ask about jobs, marriage, and things of that nature. I show my ticket to the flight attendant and she shows me to my seat. First class. Sam was always the go big or go home type of guy. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that both seats in my row are empty. So far so good. I put my carry-on bag in the overhead compartment and take my seat.
The plane is quickly filling up and just as soon as I think I am in the clear, a man places his carry-on in the overhead compartment above my head and sits down next to me.
"Oh, great," I think to myself….only it wasn’t to myself. Shit! Did I say that out loud? When I realize what I have done, I’m mortified. Oh, no! I did! "I’m so sorry," I apologize, "That wasn’t supposed to be out loud. It’s just that –"
"It’s okay," he interrupts me, in the most charming Irish accent I have ever heard, "I won’t hold it against you. I was actually hoping to sit alone as well."
I’m too embarrassed to even look at him, so I keep my head down.
"I’m sure you’re a very nice man, the thing is….I’m not up for conversation right now. I hope I didn’t offend you," I say.
"No, I’m not offended. I completely understand. I have an idea. Why don’t we both take a vow of silence for the rest of the flight? No hard feelings. What do you say?"
"I say that sounds great. Thank you."
A smile creeps across my face. I think it may be the first real smile I’ve had in a long time. I pull out my ear buds, turn on my music, and close my eyes to try and get some sleep. When I can manage to drift off into peaceful slumber, it is always my favorite place to be because in my dreams Sam comes to me. He is alive and beautiful and not sick. In my dreams we live a long and happy life together in our dream house with two kids and our beloved dog. Much to my surprise, before I get lost in my own thoughts I can’t help but wonder why the man sitting next to me also wants to sit alone and why he was so eager to initiate the "vow of silence."