A Cold Day in July

It was a clear, sunny day; only wispy thoughts of clouds passed overhead. Despite the sun, the morning was rather cool. Grace sat in the parking lot for a long time — nearly half an hour just sitting — looking at the ring on her finger. Occasionally looking up at the wrought iron staircase leading to the battered green door. Behind that door, Ben was probably still asleep. If she waited much longer, she would be late for work. The thing was, part of her didn't care.

After two minutes that felt like twenty she got out of the car and headed up the stairs. She took out her key and carefully unlocked the door, sucking in a breath as the hinges creaked. She hesitated, but heard nothing from within. She slipped in, gently pressing the door closed behind her.

Normally Ben slept sprawled across the futon, his face pressed into the mattress, arms and legs frozen in mid-flail, the covers in disarray. Today he was on his side, curled like a child, holding the blankets up under his chin. Grace shook her head. Just looking at him made her —

She turned away, pacing. Get it over with, and be quick about it, or you’ll just stand here all day. Just stand here all day, watching him sleep… Grace rubbed at her eyes. Was this what her life was going to be from now on?

The wedding was just weeks away. They had been to the King County courthouse, had done all the paperwork, had picked up the license. A single sheet of paper that gave them permission to marry within the state of Washington. A single page, thin and delicate; even slight pressure would crumple it. A single match would make it disappear in moments. How could such a fragile thing hold so much weight?

Kneeling beside the futon, Grace let out a breath that gently rustled Ben’s hair.

“Hi,” she said. “This is probably a little ridiculous, but I just need to say…” She sat back on her heels. What? What did she need to say? Leaning her cheek on one hand, she reached out with the other, smoothing his hair between her fingers.

Instinctively his hand moved up and met hers, tucking it possessively under his chin.

Grace smiled for a moment, then bit her lip. Her eyes clouded over and she could feel a familiar tightening in her throat.

“I have to go,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just — I have to — ” She stood suddenly, pulling her hand away. Ben did not move, and Grace fled into the sunshine.

*** *** ***

It was past one when Ben finally awoke. His eyes were dry, their lids like sandpaper. A familiar scent was in his nostrils; perhaps from a dream? Perhaps not. He pulled himself to a sitting position.

“Gracie?” He looked around. Nope; he was alone. His shoulders slumped a bit; it was always a welcome thing to wake up with Grace close by. It wouldn’t be long till it was a regular occurrence. He stretched and glanced at the clock. Yikes. He should probably check in with — Where was his phone? Usually with his wallet, which today was —

Something bright caught his eye. His gaze moved to the door, and he saw his phone and wallet sitting on the table beside it. He stood and crossed to the door, reaching for the phone. But his hand stopped suddenly, hovering just a moment over the table top.

On the corner of the table was a folded piece of paper labeled “Ben” in a familiar hand. With it was a key and a ring set with a modest solitaire.

He had the strangest sensation in his chest: like it was packed with cotton, draining all the fluid away, blood and water and bile, so that all that was left were his organs, dry and brittle to the touch. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He didn’t touch any of it, the ring or the note. He just turned and went back to bed.