Liz, is that you? a young woman halted and turned her head to the right, where a familiar voice called.
Emily? How long its been, hasnt it? Seven, maybe eight years? Liz answered, genuinely delighted.
Nine, dear, nine. Time flies, doesnt it? One blink and youre suddenly an old, meddlesome aunt with a stack of prescriptions, she said, squinting a little. And do you remember how we used to set the class on fire? We always sat at the same desk. No wonder they called us the Siamese twins. We even begged our parents for matching dresses, schoolbags and diaries. Do you recall?
Of course I do, how could I forget! And the time we painted the toilet wall on the firstfloor of the junior school? They made us scrub it off later. By the way, youll never turn into one of those nagging old ladies moaning about back in my day. Look at you now, blossoming! Liz said, admiring the outfit of an old school friend.
Anyway, Liz, Im staying with my parents for a few days while my husbands away on business. Ill be expecting you this evening. Dont even think of refusing. I hope you still remember the address of my folks? Vicky said, pulling Liz into a hug and fixing her hair.
No, Emily, I havent forgotten. How could I forget the house that always welcomed me? The flat we almost burned while experimenting in the kitchen? Those cherryfilled pastries that kept turning to charcoal because we never mastered the art of cooking. The juice would spill and the buns would look like burnt coals. The schoolmates fell silent for a moment, smiling at the shared anecdotes.
Of course Ill be there, Liz broke the pause, and your favourite cake, the Victoria sponge? Your taste hasnt changed, I hope? What wine will you be drinking? Lets not settle for the cheap stuff we sipped back in our eleventhgrade chemistry lab three days of nausea and missed lessons.
Im now leaning towards a bottle of Bollinger, Vicky replied, checking her watch. Ive already brought a suitable bottle.
Noted, Vicky.
My mum and dad will be thrilled to see you; they were just talking about you yesterday. Well have a proper chat Vicky laughed, then excused herself, I must dash, dont be late! Seven oclock sharp! I cant wait. Liz headed off to the supermarket for the cake. Shed have to ask Mike to watch the kids, but the memory of the evening made her nervous. Some parts of the past felt better left buried.
Come in, love, dont be shy, Mrs. Davies called from the hallway, letting Liz into the sitting room.
The room still sported a crisp white cotton tablecloth, starched napkins that crackled under the fingers, and polished silverware that took Liz back to carefree childhood tea parties. The familys beloved English china set, the Royal Crown tea service, sat in its usual place, reminding her how happy those early years had been. She longed to sit with Vicky, laughing like schoolgirls on a foldout couch, gossiping about their boyfriends, while the same table had once hosted maths revision, hyperbola sketches, and essay drafts.
Vicky rose, shook Peter Smiths hand, and he, ever the gentleman, called her lovely and kissed her hand, much to Lizs embarrassment.
After a glass of wine and a slice of cake, Peter and Mrs. Davies inquired about Lizs children, then left the two friends alone.
The delicacy and tact of Vickys parents are truly noteworthy, Liz thought.
Finally, we can gossip just as we used to, Vicky said, placing a halfempty glass on the table.
We moved to London three years ago, bought a flat. My husband works as a solicitor at a private firm, and I teach maths at a local comprehensive. Our son, Charlie, is now in Year Two. Hes staying with his grandparents the Ruslans for a while. Hes a curious lad, isnt he? Vicky relaxed, eyeing Liz.
Im just a housewife, really; I clean three times a week for affluent households. Mike, my husband, drives an electric train. Our daughter, Sophie, is six, and little Ellie is five; they both go to nursery and take dance classes at the community centre. Liz replied.
Remember how we dreamed of marrying pilots and studying at a university with an aeronautics college? We were hopeless romantics! Vicky laughed.
And we used to think thirtyyearold men were old timers, dodging them like the plague, Liz added.
Those were the golden days! Grand plans swirled in our heads, we believed everything, only to have to pull off the rosecoloured glasses later. Even if youre a genius, you wont always be riding the wave, Vicky observed.
Speaking of the main thing, have you seen Andrew lately? Talked to him? Vickys blue eyes searched Lizs.
Lets not, Vicky. I barely remember those days. I dont seek meetings with Andrew; we just pass each other on the street like strangers, never exchanging a word. I truly have forgotten him, I swear. Liz said.
Oh, dear friend, youve always been good at lying, now youve even forgotten him! Vicky teased. I didnt mean to upset you. So many years have passed. Have you ever recovered at university? she changed the subject.
No, Liz answered softly.
The conversation dwindled, and Liz prepared to leave. In the taxi, memories long suppressed surged back, fragments of a past shed tried to erase. Her heart raced, breath shallow, cheeks flushing, fingertips turning icy.
Are you alright? the driver asked.
Could you drive a bit faster? I need to get home urgently, Liz replied.
In those twenty minutes, the missing pieces of her memory slid into place, though a few still wavered. She saw herself as a child, walls adorned with gluedin celebrity cutouts, a piano beside a collection of porcelain dolls in ballroom dresses, an open book on the desk. She sat on her bed, snipping at the edge of her oncewhite wedding dress with manicuring scissors, scattering glittering sequins across the room. The veil lay in narrow strips, petals torn off and tossed onto the floor. She smashed her shoes, broke the perfume bottle with a hammer. The air filled with cinnamon, rosemary and faint jasmine.
She was deliberately destroying every reminder of Andrew.
Her eyes fell on a small velvet box; without hesitation she snatched it up, opening it to reveal two gold wedding bands, engraved with forever. She fetched a heavy axe from the pantry, struck the rings until they lay flattened, a pile of yellow metal.
Then she grabbed scissors again, cutting her long, lightbrown hair. Her mother walked in at that moment.
There wont be a wedding. Its best we part, Andrews voice echoed over the phone three days before the ceremony. He had said those words, and she remembered them clearly. He offered no further explanation.
What happened next? Liz could not say.
Stepping out of the car onto her doorstep, she saw a dark male silhouette.
Who could that be? she wondered. Andrew? Two unexpected encounters in one day. Coincidence?
Good evening, Liz! Please, listen to me! the ghost from her past pleaded.
Im not thrilled to see you, Andrew, but you have five minutes; the clocks already ticking, Liz said, voice firm. Im doing this out of mercy; even those condemned a death have a right to a final word.
The streetlamps dim light revealed Andrews nervousness.
Liz, Im sorry! Im guilty, Ive regretted it countless times. I was scared like a child! You were twenty, I was twentyeight. Id just come out of a disastrous marriage and my wifes betrayal. I didnt want to be a joke again if you left me. You were so naïve, didnt know life. Yet I loved you, and still do. I behaved like a coward, you see?
He moved closer, gently taking her hands.
Dont Liz jerked away, the time allotted slipping. What else did you want to say?
Yesterday I spoke to Vicky. I told her everything and asked her to talk to you. She promised to let me know if you still love me, giving me a chance.
Minus one, Liz muttered, irritated.
What did you say?
Minus one, shes a friend. I didnt expect such betrayal from Vicky. Andrew, youre wrong. You have no chance. Let me go, Im wasting time, Liz pushed him aside.
Wait, I havent told you everything. I left for the hills right after we spoke and turned off my phone.
Andrew lowered his hand toward the scar on Lizs forearm. She recoiled sharply.
Dont! she hissed.
Images whirled in Lizs mind like a kaleidoscope; missing pieces snapped into place, the puzzle finally assembling. She recalled her parents and brother threatening to ruin her if she ever drew near him again. She had promised them shed stay away.
I stood by your hospital window while you were on IV drips, they said you spent two weeks unconscious. Why did you do that? I cant judge you; it was my fault, I didnt know I thought a little crying would bring you back to university. If theres even a speck of love left, leave your husband. Ill surround you and your children with care. I have money and influence now; you wont regret it, Andrew whispered, then fell silent.
The night was still; mosquitoes buzzed, crickets sang.
Liz, halfasleep, heard a door being forced open in a bathroom. She found herself lying naked in a tub of hot water tinged red with blood. Her left arm, sliced by a razor, bled freely. The warmth made her want to sleep, and she closed her eyes.
A shrill scream jolted her awake. Her fathers horrified face appeared, hair now sprinkled with grey.
Daughter! What have you done!
Fragments of a hospital ceiling flashed in her mind, the white paint, the bandaged arm. Her soul ached more than any physical wound. Over the following three and a half months in the ward, she recovered, returning home on the first snowfall, hand in hand with her parents.
The pain in her arm faded, but a part of Liz seemed dead forever. Anyone whos felt such anguish would understand.
Her studies never resumed; memories and knowledge were erased. The drugs that kept her alive also dulled her spirit, leaving her a shell, unable to become the cheerful girl she once was.
Years later, working as a supermarket cashier, Liz met Michael. His love healed her wounded heart and gave her a reason to live. They married, and life seemed to settle into a comfortable rhythm.
Wait a minute, Im coming, Liz shouted to Andrew, dashing into the stairwell.
She unlocked the door to the cellar, climbed to the back shelf, and pulled out a dusty box.
Here you go, Liz handed Andrew the old jewellery box shed found under the bath after her parents moved. Its all thats left of your endless love. Keep it forever.
Andrew opened it; two shattered rings lay at the bottom. An old melody drifted through his mind:
Wedding band, more than adornment, two hearts, one decision, wedding band
Clutching the remnants of his former happiness, Andrew stood beneath the faint glow of a streetlamp, the night echoing his lingering hope.
