Chapter 5
After the boutique, Alexander drove us to a restaurant to discuss venue options.
He drove fast. Aggressive. Every turn thrown hard enough to slam me against the car door.
I remembered how he used to drive with me.
Slow. Careful. One hand on the wheel and the other resting on my knee. If there was a speed bump ahead, he would slow down to a crawl and murmur, "Hold on, baby."
Now, he accelerated through a yellow light so sharply that my body lurched forward and my seatbelt locked against my chest.
The pressure hit exactly where my port catheter was buried beneath the skin.
Pain exploded across my collarbone. White-hot. Blinding.
I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted blood.
"You okay back there?" Meredith asked from the passenger seat, not turning around.
"Fine," I managed. "Just motion sickness."
Alexander glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
"You never used to get carsick," he said.
I looked away.
"People change."
At the restaurant, Alexander ordered without asking me. Steak, rare. Shellfish risotto. A wine I was allergic to.
He had never forgotten my allergies before.
Or maybe he had.
Maybe five years was long enough to forget everything.
I quietly ordered a plain soup for myself.
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"Still doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Ordering nothing. Making yourself look pitiful. You used to pull the same trick when you wanted attention."
I set the menu down calmly.
"I have dietary restrictions now."
"Since when?"
Since the chemotherapy destroyed my stomach lining. Since my kidneys could no longer process protein efficiently. Since eating anything heavier than broth made me vomit blood.
But I said, "Since I started watching my health more carefully."
Meredith reached over and patted Alexander's arm.
"Let her eat what she wants, babe. Not everyone has your appetite."
She smiled at me.
"Although, Sophia, I have to say, you really should eat more. Alexander is right, you look terribly thin. Almost sick."
The word landed like a slap.
Almost sick.
If only she knew.
Halfway through dinner, I excused myself to use the restroom.
I barely made it to the stall before my legs buckled. I collapsed against the door and pressed both hands over my mouth to muffle the sound as my body convulsed.
Nothing came up. There was nothing to come up.
But the pain was everywhere. My bones. My chest. The hollow places inside me that never healed after they took what they took.
I sat on that bathroom floor for seven minutes.
Then I fixed my lipstick, straightened my collar, and walked back to the table.
When I returned, Meredith was feeding Alexander a bite of her dessert.
He was smiling at her.
Not the guarded, controlled smile he wore like armor. A real one. Small. Almost shy.
I had not seen that smile in five years.
I used to be the only one who could make it appear.
I sat down quietly and pretended to sip my soup.
"So," Meredith said, dabbing her lips with a napkin, "I was thinking about venues. Alexander mentioned you two used to go to that little chapel by the lake outside the city? The stone one with the ivy?"
My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.
The chapel.
Alexander and I had found that chapel during a hike when we were nineteen. It was abandoned, half-covered in ivy, with stained glass windows that turned the light gold and green. We had sat inside for hours. He had said, "Someday, I'm going to marry you right here."
I had laughed and said, "It's falling apart."
He had pulled me close and whispered, "Then I'll fix it. For you."
Now Meredith wanted to get married there.
I looked at Alexander.
He was staring at his plate. His jaw was tight.
"Meredith," he said evenly. "I told you that place isn't suitable. The road is bad. The structure might not be safe."
"But it's so romantic," she insisted. "You told me about it yourself. You said it was the most beautiful place you'd ever seen."
He had told her about our chapel.
He had shared that memory with her.
Something inside me cracked so quietly I almost didn't hear it.
"I think," I said, setting my spoon down, "a venue closer to the city might be more practical for your guests."
Meredith pouted.
Alexander said nothing.
Dinner ended in silence.
He drove fast. Aggressive. Every turn thrown hard enough to slam me against the car door.
I remembered how he used to drive with me.
Slow. Careful. One hand on the wheel and the other resting on my knee. If there was a speed bump ahead, he would slow down to a crawl and murmur, "Hold on, baby."
Now, he accelerated through a yellow light so sharply that my body lurched forward and my seatbelt locked against my chest.
The pressure hit exactly where my port catheter was buried beneath the skin.
Pain exploded across my collarbone. White-hot. Blinding.
I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted blood.
"You okay back there?" Meredith asked from the passenger seat, not turning around.
"Fine," I managed. "Just motion sickness."
Alexander glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
"You never used to get carsick," he said.
I looked away.
"People change."
At the restaurant, Alexander ordered without asking me. Steak, rare. Shellfish risotto. A wine I was allergic to.
He had never forgotten my allergies before.
Or maybe he had.
Maybe five years was long enough to forget everything.
I quietly ordered a plain soup for myself.
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"Still doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Ordering nothing. Making yourself look pitiful. You used to pull the same trick when you wanted attention."
I set the menu down calmly.
"I have dietary restrictions now."
"Since when?"
Since the chemotherapy destroyed my stomach lining. Since my kidneys could no longer process protein efficiently. Since eating anything heavier than broth made me vomit blood.
But I said, "Since I started watching my health more carefully."
Meredith reached over and patted Alexander's arm.
"Let her eat what she wants, babe. Not everyone has your appetite."
She smiled at me.
"Although, Sophia, I have to say, you really should eat more. Alexander is right, you look terribly thin. Almost sick."
The word landed like a slap.
Almost sick.
If only she knew.
Halfway through dinner, I excused myself to use the restroom.
I barely made it to the stall before my legs buckled. I collapsed against the door and pressed both hands over my mouth to muffle the sound as my body convulsed.
Nothing came up. There was nothing to come up.
But the pain was everywhere. My bones. My chest. The hollow places inside me that never healed after they took what they took.
I sat on that bathroom floor for seven minutes.
Then I fixed my lipstick, straightened my collar, and walked back to the table.
When I returned, Meredith was feeding Alexander a bite of her dessert.
He was smiling at her.
Not the guarded, controlled smile he wore like armor. A real one. Small. Almost shy.
I had not seen that smile in five years.
I used to be the only one who could make it appear.
I sat down quietly and pretended to sip my soup.
"So," Meredith said, dabbing her lips with a napkin, "I was thinking about venues. Alexander mentioned you two used to go to that little chapel by the lake outside the city? The stone one with the ivy?"
My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.
The chapel.
Alexander and I had found that chapel during a hike when we were nineteen. It was abandoned, half-covered in ivy, with stained glass windows that turned the light gold and green. We had sat inside for hours. He had said, "Someday, I'm going to marry you right here."
I had laughed and said, "It's falling apart."
He had pulled me close and whispered, "Then I'll fix it. For you."
Now Meredith wanted to get married there.
I looked at Alexander.
He was staring at his plate. His jaw was tight.
"Meredith," he said evenly. "I told you that place isn't suitable. The road is bad. The structure might not be safe."
"But it's so romantic," she insisted. "You told me about it yourself. You said it was the most beautiful place you'd ever seen."
He had told her about our chapel.
He had shared that memory with her.
Something inside me cracked so quietly I almost didn't hear it.
"I think," I said, setting my spoon down, "a venue closer to the city might be more practical for your guests."
Meredith pouted.
Alexander said nothing.
Dinner ended in silence.