If I had known I’d be going out with one of my friends from many many years ago, I’d have carried an evening wear with me. Dress nicely. James’ message rang in my head. I hoped I had with the chic white blouse and brown slacks I was wearing. The embellishment on the blouse wasn’t intricate—just beadings. This was what I could get from my wardrobe. If I had planned this weekend away, I would have included a cocktail dress.

     A look at my reflection told me I was good to go. My blonde hair wasn’t wrapped in a bun or tied back into a ponytail. I left it hanging loosely on my shoulders in a mass of flowing curls. I didn’t want to look too formal. Picking up my Rolex with a gray dial, I strapped the watch around my wrist and clasped it. As I bent over the table, my hand narrowing down to the lip gloss, I saw Tom’s ring. My fingers trembled at the sight, my pulse quickening. Too visible. I grabbed it and skittered to the nightstand, then pulled out a drawer and threw it in. There. I wouldn’t be seeing it often.

     I didn’t want Tom’s lurking shadow to ruin this evening. Retracing my step to the vanity, I took the lip gloss and stood upright. Gingerly, I rubbed it on my lips and pressed each together, smoothening them. I saw Clara walking across the room in the mirror. She was normally well-behaved in my absence. I had thought an unfamiliar environment would trigger wild feline behavior, but she proved me wrong. I couldn’t be proud of her. I smiled.

     All set, I slipped into a pair of black stilettos, collecting my purse and shawl from the bed once I was done. I stood, rather slowly knowing James was already at the restaurant by now and walked over to the window. I expected Amy to appear like a ghost, close the curtain, and vanish, but I only looked at a pitch-black room. The lights downstairs were on, so I assumed they were either having dinner or tucked on a sofa watching TV.

     I turned around and faced the door. When I neared it, Clara was busily kneading her quilt. I snuck out, closing the door quietly behind me.

*  *  *

     Twenty minutes later, an immaculate doorman at Maison Rouge was giving me directions to a table. I thanked him and stepped into the restaurant, the clicks of my stilettos mixing with low hums from people conversing. I walked past a marble bar that stretched across the room, barstools standing across from it. Several people sat on the banquette, laughing over meals. I picked up speed, gripped my purse, and occasionally tugged my shawl for warmth.

     As I approached, passing by a young couple, James stood and waited till I was at our table. He looked handsome in a button-down, blue jeans, and Oxford shoes. His dark hair was combed neatly, his stubbles gone. For a moment, I wondered what his wife thought when he got dressed to go out.

     “I’m glad you could make it, Elodie,” he said, taking my hand and guiding me to my seat across from him.

     “Thank you.” I sat slowly and set the purse aside.

     Our white-clothed table adorned with golden tulips in a flower vase and flickering candles ensconced in holders had a bottle of Chardonnay and two wineglasses sitting on top.

     “Thirsty?” he said with a smile.

     I bobbed my head, my eyes lingering at his dimples.

     The liquid gurgled as he poured it in and filled my glass. I leaned forward and picked it up, then took a sip. The coldness sent a chill down my spine.

     I glanced around the restaurant and then faced James. “Great spot. To be honest, I expected a cheap bar, not a restaurant. I guess that was the reason behind the dress nicely code.” I giggled.

     “Well, I must say you look pretty.”

     I blushed. “Now you’re flattering me.” I did a once-over of him, zeroing in on his burly hand on the table. I saw the ring. It brightened in the glint of the overhead light. My mind raced to his wife.

     “Did your wife ask you where you were going dressed like that?”

     “Maggie is spending the weekend with her brother. She’s helping his wife. She just gave birth.”

     “Okay. That makes sense.”
    
     “So...,” he said, taking a sip, “how long have you been married?”

     I swirled the liquid, watching as it moved around the vessel. “Four years.”

     His face lit up. “Wow! That’s a very long time. Who’s the lucky guy?”

     We were suddenly down to discussing Tom. I stifled a frown. When you made a big mistake in your life, it was difficult to forget about it. It constantly tugged at you, deprecating you, but I wouldn’t give in. I made a mistake when I married Tom. I knew that. At least I learned from it.

     I didn’t want to answer him for so many good reasons. Tom was far away, but it felt like he was close to me, following me like a shadow. “I don’t think you want to know about him. He’s not a very nice guy.”

     His face contorted. He leaned forward and reached for my hand. “What happened, Elodie?” His voice sounded fraught.

     I shouldn’t have mentioned Tom wasn’t a nice guy, but the truth always came out when you least wanted it to.

     I sighed. “I’m telling you this because I trust you, James. Can I count on you?”

     “Like the good ol’ times. Your secrets are safe with me.”

     I smiled wistfully at him. It felt like yesterday when we were young. James had stuck with me through thick and thin. I knew his secrets just like he knew mine. When he didn’t attend prom night and our friends asked of him, I had lied he had a terrible headache. In truth, he was shy.

     “I know,” I said, “Tom... he’s been hitting me. I ran from him. This wasn’t a weekend getaway. It was escape.”

     His eyes widened, then gradually reduced to their usual size. “I’m so sorry, Elodie. You need to tell me who this guy is, so I can punch him in the face.”

     “For an officer of the law, I didn’t expect that from you,” I teased.

      He patted my hand. “Nobody messes with my friend.”

     He was adorable for wanting to protect me from Tom. No man had stood up for me like that. Growing up, I didn’t have a stable male figure in my life. When Dad died, it was just me and Mom, as I wouldn’t go anywhere near my scary Grandpa who was rather aging gracefully. Last I heard, he’d gone on a trip to the Alps.

     “You don’t have to worry though. I’ll be divorcing him very soon.”

     “That’s good. A man who beats a woman doesn’t deserve to be with one.”

     “Spoken like a sage,” I said. “What’s up with your wife? Is she still harboring thoughts that you’re cheating?”

     He sipped, emptying the vessel. “Maggie is Maggie. She’s not going to change.”

     His eyes sank. I felt pitty for James. He wasn’t happy in his marriage—that was evident in his eyes. He must have languished for a while. He was emotionally broken. While I, on the other hand, was physically and emotionally broken. If that could easily kill, I was sure we’d have both been dead by now. Well, there was something we both shared. Unhappy marriages.

     I lifted my glass and watched as he refilled his. “To years of bad marriage.”

     “To years of bad marriage,” he said, clicking his glass with mine.

     I downed my glass, shivering as the coldness overwhelmed me.

     A uniformed waitress walked to our table. “Evening,” she said, “what are you guys having?”

     My eyes drifted to the stiff menu on the table. I glanced at James. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

     “Yeah. Me too,” he drawled.

     I looked at the waitress. “More Chardonnay, please.”

     “All right,” she said and skittered away.

     “How long would you be staying here?”

     I shrugged. “No idea. Till the divorce is over, I guess. If I go anywhere near Tom, he’s going to kill me.”

     “Sounds like this Tom is a nasty guy.”
 
     “He is,” I murmured.

      Till now, I still couldn’t believe I didn’t see a trace of it earlier. Sometimes, I wondered if it was bad luck I married him, or if I was too stubborn.

     I wanted to ask more about Maggie. I figured I should drop it. If he wasn’t happy in his marriage, he should just file for a divorce, but I couldn’t tell him that. Enough of bad spouses. We had already lost our appetites talking about them. How worse could it get? Maybe I’d start throwing up.

     “I’m guessing you went into the police academy after you moved in with your uncle.”

     I remembered the painful passing of his parents in a car accident. He’d spent the day at my house and we both cried in my room.

     “Yep, and it was the best decision of my life. The academy saved me. At least I had something to invest in. When my parents died, I wanted so badly to...”

     He couldn’t bring himself to say it. I remembered his suicide attempts too, which led him into therapy. Tonight was supposed to be a fun night, but it didn’t feel like such. We couldn’t drown our sorrows here. A cheap bar would’ve served that purpose. For a moment, I wondered if we could push through with our conversation.

     While others laughed and giggled, we sat with grim faces, talking about the past. If our current marriage wasn’t such a disaster, we could have something exciting to talk about the future of it. The past too wasn’t great. Suddenly it felt impossible to go forward or backward. We were stuck in the middle.

     James was a kind man. Maggie wasn’t making his life any better. My lips tightened, as though sealed with glue. My tongue felt heavy suddenly. I didn’t know what else to talk about with him that wouldn’t end up causing us pain. Then it kicked him. Work.

     “Your job as an officer must be hectic,” I said. “Do you always arrest somebody?” I imagined young James intercepting a crime and making an arrest. His lanky stature then and skinny shoulders wouldn’t suit the job. The picture was so funny I couldn’t stop smirking.

     “Not always. This is a peaceful town,” he said, then paused and stared at me. “What’s so funny?”

     When I couldn’t delete the picture, I burst into laughter. “Nothing.”

     “You’re being snarky all of a sudden.”

     “Am I?”

     “Yes,” he murmured.

     The waitress returned with our order and placed it across from us. “If you need anything else, I’m over there.”

     “Sure. Thanks,” I said.

      He uncorked the bottle and refilled our glasses. “So what do you do?”

     I collected my glass and sipped, bringing it away from my lips. “I’m a businesswoman. I owe a boutique.”

     “That sounds like the Elodie I knew.”

     I smiled at him and he smiled back.

     “We should do this more often if it isn’t going to be a problem,” I suggested.

     “As you wish.”

     We sat for a while longer, reminiscing the past. We laughed and shared funny stories. His first day of training and how he constantly made mistakes. I told him about my boutique, and the kinds of customers I got. He listened to me. Paid attention to every single word I uttered, then asked questions and even suggested I open another branch. We were lost in our conversation we didn’t realize it was late.

     James beckoned the waitress and paid for our orders. A short while later, we walked down the pavement outside the restaurant to my car, laughing like teenagers.

    I hit the key fob when we reached my car. “This is where we part ways,” I said, reaching for the handle of the side door.

     “Yeah. I enjoyed every single moment with you. Having you around is great. I wished you wouldn’t leave,” he said, his lips curving into a smile.

     “Maybe after my divorce, I’ll hang around here a little longer.”

     “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you later.” He leaned forward and planted a tender kiss on my cheek.

     I froze.

     “Bye.” He started walking away.

     “Bye, James,” I murmured, my hand slowly touching my cheek. I stroked it and stood for a couple of seconds, watching him as he disappeared into the darkness. I slid into the driveway’s seat, started the car, and hit the road to the farmhouse.

     A quarter past nine, I stood in my bedroom, tying straps around my waist. I felt bonded with James more than with Tom. Probably because I knew him and so we already had a connection. It was easy to pick up from where we’d left off. At least with James around, I didn’t have to worry about Tom. After all, he was an officer of the law. He could protect me while I was here.

     Slowly, I moved to the window and stood, thinking about how my life could’ve been almost perfect if I had married James instead of Tom. Two or three minutes in my thoughts, and I was looking at Amy in a pink nightgown peering at my face. I had almost forgotten about the Bergers. Seeing her standing by the window in her room, her hands clamped to the pane, I was instantly startled.

     She continued looking at me, and without so much as a smile, she yanked the curtain and disappeared into the room. When the lights went off, I found myself staring at a silhouetted Amy moving briskly.

     Weird. I heard myself mutter as I closed the stiff curtain and turned away.