I placed my box of belongings from my desk in one of the spare bedrooms that had been sealed off like a tomb. It had been used as Evan’s office, and I really had no reason to go in here. If I was being honest, I had avoided coming in because it reminded me of him too much. It remained untouched, even after he moved out and was still alive. I’d never venture in here. It was his space, and I felt like an intruder, entering uninvited. I walked over to his drafting desk and sat down. Everything was just as he left it the last time he had sat in that seat. He was so meticulous, with not a thing out of place.
I remembered in the good days, how I’d come in here and sit on the floor, drowning my sorrows in a bowl of ice cream while he worked. I’d go on and on, bitching about work, and he’d just listen and sketch. I loved to watch him work. Creating big old buildings or brand-new homes that only existed in his mind, then bringing them to life with the sketch of his pencil. He was so talented. I told him all the time that he was way too smart to be with someone like me. He’d laugh it off, never really knowing that I meant it. How I wished I had a time machine to go back to those happier times. If only for one day, just to get lost in the memory of how we once were, and the people we used to be. I ran my hand along the slant of the desk, reaching into one of the side compartments and pulling out a pack of sticky notes. My stomach clenched with a full-blown laugh, seeing the word “Jingoist” scribbled in Evan’s handwriting.
“So today, Martin had a staff meeting with everyone and he singled me out and said he didn’t think a woman would be able to win over the CEO of a hunting and fishing gear company with their marketing plan. Is he not the biggest jingoist or what?”
“A what?” Evan put down his pencil and looked up at me with a grin from ear to ear, sporting his matching double dimples prominently.
“A jingoist,” I answered nonchalantly. “You know, like a chauvinist.”
“Is that even a word?”
“It is.” I nodded.
He stared at me questionably. I did have a bad habit of mispronouncing uncommon words or using them in the wrong context. Evan always seemed to get such a kick out of it. I’d argue that I was right until Evan would look it up and prove me wrong, and we’d both get a good laugh over it.
“I’ve got to write that one down.” He picked up his pen and scribbled the letters as I spelled it out for him as best as I could.
As I traced my fingers over his letters, my laughter turned to tears. I didn’t think he ever did look that one up; if he did, he never told me. I sucked in a deep breath and put the Post-it pad back right where I had found it, wanting to preserve those happier times we had together.
“What happened to us, Evan? How could we drift so far away from each other?” I sat there for some time, staring into space before finally getting up and exiting, closing the door behind me.
I went to bed early, watching reruns of Law and Order SVU in bed. The weights on my eyes finally won the battle as I hit the off switch on the remote, turning on my side and giving in to my sleepiness.
I stretched my arm to the other side of the bed and felt the warmth of his body next to mine. My eyes fluttered open and I was staring into his beautiful baby blues. “Evan,” I whispered. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here, silly. Where else would I be?”
His face was perfect just like I had always remembered. Not unrecognizable, swollen, and battered in black and blue marks like when I had seen him lying in that hospital bed in a coma. He had that same spark in his eyes I fell in love with when we first met. The one that fizzled out once our marriage did.
“You’re okay?” My tears wet my pillow, and he rubbed his thumb along my cheeks to stop any more from falling.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because you…” I didn’t want to say it out loud because I was afraid if I did he’d be gone. My arms wrapped around him, smelling the remnants of his cologne and feeling the razor stubble on his face. He was here. He was really here lying beside me in our bed. “I’m so sorry, Evan. I’m so sorry for not being the wife you deserved. I’m so sorry for not trying harder.”
“Hey, where is all this coming from?” He rested his lips on top of my head. “It’s not a big deal that you forgot to set the alarm again.”
“What?” I whispered.
“The alarm never went off, so I’ll just be a little late. I’d much rather stay here with you for a while longer anyway.”
“The alarm?” I lifted my head from the pillow, confused.
“Yeah. It’s okay, though. I forgive you.”
I blinked hard over those three little words I
