Don't Explain (12 page)

Caitlyn sighed at herself with disappointment. She slung her jacket over
her shoulders and headed toward the door. The dense, chilled air filled her
lungs, and her eyes began to water. She peered out into the darkness of the
morning with melancholy. She noticed that her feelings seemed to warp the
appearance of the things around her. A week ago she was indifferent about
everything, and the world seemed indifferent to her. On this day, when she felt
misery, she noticed the sagging of the trees, the sorrow in the clouds, and the
bitterness in the breeze. Gloom had permeated every part of her life.

   In stopping to take in the sad stage before her, she barely noticed
the white rectangle squarely placed on her door just above eye level or its
rapid flapping caused by the wind. However, she could not fail to notice it
when she turned to close the door and lock the deadbolt, which she did before
she gently pulled down the folded note with two fingers. For a brief, passing
moment, while the paper delicately danced in her hand, she considered crumbling
it up in her hands, never reading the contents. But the jagged “Caitlyn”
written on the front swayed her to tear it off of the door and read it
immediately.

Mon amour,

S'il te plaît, pardonnes moi de t'avoir
blesser
.

It was not my intention to hurt you.
It was not my intention to do anything while I was here except escape. Fortune
had a different plan, and she, against the odds, brought us together. I had
forgotten what a caring and compassionate friend you are, and I was happy to
learn how much more you could be.

When we were in college, I never
would have imagined that we would spend time together like we did the past few
days, or that we would have sex all night. You were a friend and nothing more.
But the last ten years have been good to you. Your spark and confidence pulled
me toward you. I couldn't and didn't want to resist. You made me forget why I
came in the first place and made it seem insignificant.

I don't want to leave you, believe
me. I think that I am falling in love with you, and the more time that I spend
with you the more I will be yours. I wish I could wake up every morning and
breathe you in. I wish I could hold you in my arms all night every night. I
wish I could make love to you in the evenings before we go to bed. I want to
take care of you. What I want least, and what I fear is happening, is that you
will not be in my life at all. I lost you once before, and I am not willing to
let you go again.

S'il te plaît
. I know that you don't want to, but
I need you to talk to me at least once more before I go. Please meet me at the Nichewaug
Pond at five this evening. I'll be on the south side near the docks.

Fitz

Caitlyn read through the letter three times before putting it away. She had
to drive the mile to Fine and Mellow because she was now running late, and
though her ankle was only the slightest bit tender, she certainly couldn’t jog
on it. It took her a while to justify even going to work. That was the hardest
thing about being her own boss—no one really depended on her. It would be easy
to give into her whims. It would be easy to run off to California for a week
with Michael. The only thing stopping her was the fact that it could ruin her,
but what were the chances she wasn’t already ruined? It drove her forward into
the day, but she knew that there would only be one thing on her mind.

As she made the first cup of coffee that day, she felt elated. Michael
was falling in love with her. All of the negative things she had told herself
were washed away. This time it wasn't just a secret crush with no hope.
Everything about the letter and their time together screamed hope. It was
almost too overwhelming for her.

Later, when the rush of glee had passed with the rush of the early morning,
other feelings arose from the pit of her stomach. When she had read the letter
more carefully the last few time—she had already read it so many times that
there was an indentation of her thumbs on either side of the page and it was
beginning to tear at the fold—she found that even though they both wanted to be
together, it was impossible. He had a life on the other side of the country,
and he had to go back to it at some point. That point was sooner rather than
later. She could visit, but for how long?

The more she dwelled on it the more she became angry with him. He crushed
her not only once, when he told her he was leaving, but a second time when he wrote
of all the possibilities that were unattainable when they were living three
thousand miles away from each other. She hated him for writing those things,
and for creating hope where it did not exist. She decided that meeting him
would only crush her more.

She asked Alexis to come to the shop so that she could read the letter,
but after Alexis read it, she uncharacteristically had nothing to say.

Caitlyn jumped on the quiet. “I'm not going. I'm not open to getting my
heart stomped on by him again.” Alexis’s silence was starting to disturb
Caitlyn; someone who was never afraid to speak her mind. She began questioning
her decision and desperately needed Alexis to support it. So she prodded her. “Right?”

“I don't want you to get hurt, but maybe you should hear him out. You
might get some closure,” she paused when Caitlyn's face fell in shock and fear
and quickly added, “one way or another.”

When Caitlyn locked the door after the last customer left at 1:30, she
was conflicted. Her heart longed to see him one more time, but the pain it
would likely sustain as a result was terrifying.

Caitlyn stared at the muffin batter she was stirring, and for a few
moments her mind was completely blank. Blueberries slowly sank to the bottom as
she stood completely unaware of what she was doing or where she was. Soon the
moments were over, and she came to a conclusion in a final moment of clarity.
She would see him one more time, but after this, it was over. Michael Fitzgerald
could no longer hold a place in her heart.

#

The drive to Nichewaug Pond was not long, but it was long enough to make Caitlyn
doubt her decision to meet Michael. Before the letter she had simply decided to
move past this, at least that is what she was telling herself. A couple of
times she was very close to flipping around and heading back home, but his
allure was too strong for her to overcome, and she made the final turn into the
pond's recreation area.

There was a wet leaf stuck to the middle of her windshield, and it
reminded her of the cold rain the weatherman had predicted for that afternoon.
She leaned forward, her head poking over the top of her steering wheel.
Billowing white clouds climbing on top of one another dominated the sky; a few
bright blue spots peeked down at her. Caitlyn was relieved. While it looked
like it would rain, it probably wouldn't rain before they were done. She was going
to make short work of whatever was waiting for her.

She tried to imagine what the conversation would be so she could figure
out how long it would take, but nothing came to her. She felt like she was
walking in completely blind.

What more was there to say? she wondered. Between the conversation
yesterday morning and the letter he left, she felt like all of the possible
topics were exhausted. If he wasn't careful in his words, Caitlyn knew that she
could easily slip into a rant. He, in fact, would be hard-pressed to find
conversation that did not lead to her storming off after a long diatribe. She
imagined that she was going in with an open mind, but all she really wanted to
do was give him a piece of it. He had put her in a bad spot. While she knew
that she should have been aware that he would have to go back, she was ashamed
to think that she had already considered it but chose to forget about it until
he brought it up again the previous morning. She took all the disappointment from
the reality of the situation and her lack of forethought and blamed it on him.

Her wipers attempted to flick away the wet leaf, and she was hypnotized
for a moment by the sweeping movement and the thud, sweeoosh, thud, sweeoosh.

She was roused from her trance after spotting a long, daunting figure
lying on a blanket in the grassy area above the sand. Caitlyn parked the car in
the almost empty gravel lot and got out of her car. She carefully picked what
was left of the slimy golden plant off of her car and flicked it away from her.
She wiped the goo off on her jeans. Realizing she was only working to avoid the
inevitable, she began to close the short distance between her and Michael.

He looked up from a book he appeared to be absorbed in and smiled when he
saw her. Briefly, he glanced at his watch before rising to meet her. He held his
hand out to her, and she hesitated a moment before grabbing it.

Caitlyn could feel the strength in his hand as he pulled her toward the
blanket he had laid out. This strength melted the courage to keep the distance,
physically and emotionally, that she had been preparing to hold firm.

“I am really glad you came,” he started. “I really didn't think that you
would, but I am glad you did.” He pointed to the picnic before them. “This is
us.”

Caitlyn’s eyes were wide and her mouth fell open when she saw what was on
the blanket. There was a basket with a red thermos, muffins, sandwiches,
cookies, and two apples. Next to the basket were a pizza box and a 2-liter
bottle of strawberry soda.

“Are you kidding me?” She looked at him in disbelief; her chest was
heavy, and she had to work for composure.

“Is it too much?” Michael looked deep into her eyes. He was smiling
purposefully, and she knew that he was proud of himself. It wasn’t arrogance,
but rather a kind of boyish pride that shouted, “Didn't I do well?” and needed
accolades to feel as though he was good enough.

Caitlyn thought back to the last day they spent together in Tucson. They
had planned to meet for lunch on the mall; each was supposed to bring something
to share. Caitlyn had gone overboard and made sandwiches, fresh iced tea,
banana crumble muffins and some fruit salad. She wrapped the sandwiches and
muffins individually with cellophane and packed them neatly into a basket.
Lying on a blanket, Austen in hand, she waited for him. Michael showed up, a
half an hour late, shadowing her from the sun with a pizza box and soda. “Sorry,”
he said. “I had another goodbye right before this, and it ran a little long.”
His voice trailed off, and he turned his gaze from her.

Caitlyn knew that he was saying goodbye to Chelsea, his recent
mostly-off-again girlfriend, and that the goodbye was more than the friendly
hug. She couldn't help looking hurt while saying, “It's okay.”

Eventually it was okay, and they became lost in conversation, and it wasn't
until Caitlyn noticed the pink on her arms turning to red that they packed up
and went their separate ways.

Michael had attempted to reproduce that scene. He had a hard time dealing
with her silence, which was induced by shock, and began to ramble a bit, “I
didn't make the stuff like you did; I didn't have the facilities. I tried,
though, to get it right.” Michael cleared his throat and looked at her. Caitlyn
had seen him try to impress girls before but he had always evaded sweetness.
She knew that he was actually trying, and it seemed to be uncharted territory
he was stumbling through.

All of this worked together to devastate anything that was left of the
wall she had created to protect herself, and without thinking she instinctively
whispered, “It's perfect.” She turned to him, lifted herself on the ball of her
good foot and kissed him softly on the mouth. Though taken aback, Michael was
able to stay focused and led her to the blanket where they both sat down.

It was awkward. Caitlyn sat cross-legged and was hunched over. Michael
kept trying to find a position that didn't make him look like an idiot, and
finally settled on stretching out his legs and leaning back on his arms.
Studying him as he shifted gawkily, Caitlyn couldn't help but laugh once he
finally settled in. Looking back at her equally uncomfortable position, he
joined in.

Caitlyn shifted her gaze to a picnic table that was not five feet away
from them, and nodding her head toward it said, “Shall we?”

Michael was quick to his feet and grabbed the food. Once they were
settled in again across the table from one another, Michael handed her a plate,
cup, and utensils followed by food.

After a few moments, Michael broke the silence with an apology, but
Caitlyn quickly stopped him with a shush and a shake of her head. “This is it,”
she said. “I know this is it, so let's just enjoy it. I want to just enjoy it.”
She paused for a moment realizing that this was not at all what she had wanted
or expected, though her expectations on the drive to the pond were limited to an
explosive reaction. Instead she joked, “You're going to call me this time,
right?” Then, before he could answer her, “It would be really rude for you not
to call this time.”

“Caitlyn, will you stop for a minute?” he nearly yelled. Then he looked
at her and softly said, “I want you to come with me.”

Caitlyn shook her head. “You said that before, but it’s just stalling the
inevitable. Let’s not make it hurt any more than it has to. More time is a bad
idea.”

“I want you to move. Come live with me in Sacramento. It’s not as bad as
you think.”