“Babe, I’ve been in England now half as long as I’ve been alive.”
“Damn, that’s true. Where did the time go?”
“Straight to my tits.”
“Ditto. Oh, and I brought all my frump clothes and baggy sweats.”
“So, you do want something to happen.”
“No, but who wants to look like a bag lady in front of their ex?”
“True. Well, it looks like you have a lot of shopping to do. I so miss holidays with your folks. There was never a dull moment.”
“Nothing’s changed in that respect. Trust me. We’re one clown car away from a full-blown circus. Gracie got her first period, so there’s that.”
“Holy shit. I feel for you. I really do.”
“There is an upside. Dad put Eli in the King’s luxury suite.”
“Ha! I love it…Whit, you sure you’re okay?”
“I am, really. I’m going to turn this around. All of it. I’ve just got a little mental rehabbing to do.”
“Well, hang in there, babe. In a way, this is a good dose of karma. He deserves to see what he lost out on. If you decide to hear him out, you earned whatever apology he gives.”
“I’m just going to have to forgive him at this point. It’s better for us both.”
“Your ability to do that is one of the best things about you. Love you.”
“Love you. Merry Christmas. Kiss Darrin and the kids for me.”
“Will do and Whitney…”
“Yeah?”
“Trust me when I say if he’s there to see you, he regrets it. Take comfort in that over everything else. You’re irreplaceable. Oh, God, that’s the door. I’ll pray for us both.”
Glancing at my watch, I begin to panic when I see I lost too much time power walking down Main Street in order to burn off the rest of my panic attack. It still amazes me how I’m triggered by specific sounds. To this day, it’s noise—the loud clang of a pan, the slam of a door that sends me into an unwanted panic. It’s infuriating that no matter how strong my mental state or how hard I’ve fought to reverse my introvert’s aversion to crowds and noise, it can still paralyze me with anxiety.
Using the breathing techniques I mastered, I gradually immerse myself back into my surroundings. Steps slow, images disperse from my racing mind as my heart rate evens out, and I’m finally able to take in the scenery surrounding me. Ears perking up, I tune into the human noise. The ringing of the Salvation Army bell, the faint sounds of engines as cars pass. My heavy footfalls lighten as I focus and soak in the square.
Downtown Triple Falls is idyllic, sort of Norman Rockwell in feel, and I instantly fall in love with it. Weather bundled shoppers march down the snow-lined sidewalks as rows upon rows of glass storefronts twinkle and shimmer with décor catered to the season. It’s just like I imagined it would be, the exact picture Whitney painted when she spoke fondly of Christmases in North Carolina spent with her grandparents. Ready to face the task at hand, I enter a specialty boutique and begin rummaging through a sweater rack, knowing it’s the worst possible place to start.
A sweater says nothing at all about how well you know a person. It’s a cop-out present, and I refuse to go out like that. Maybe I don’t know Whitney now, but today, she’s acting more like the girl I chased after, if just a little subdued.
In some ways, I’m still the same guy she dated, but I’ve been trying to remedy the separation of the two lives I lived. One life I purposefully hid from her, the other I started just before I met her, before pushing her out of both altogether.
Whitney shared everything with me when we dated—her body, her heart, her secrets, her fears, her future hopes—while I clammed up repeatedly, denying her and ultimately hurting her. She displayed the same selfless nature back in the car when she took my hand, her face etched with concern for me. In doing so, she helped me back away a step from the freefall, her presence and understanding enough to eradicate the worst of it.
Annoyed by my blatant display and embarrassed, I had to get the fuck away from her to collect myself. I could’ve chosen that time to be honest, but I know my words would have come out a jumbled mess, and it wasn’t the right time. Intent on my mission to find the perfect peace offering, I curse when I look around the shelves and come up empty. With the clock ticking out and only minutes to spare, I yank an expensive cashmere scarf from a rack and check out, knowing I can gift it to Erin if all else fails, and vow to figure something better out.