Eluded (3 page)

I wondered how my life would turn
out if I kept walking, and my heart raced at the prospect of it
all. My clothes were wet all the way down to my panties and bra,
but it felt good to feel, to be outside doing whatever it was I was
doing. A coffee shop and bookstore were only a few blocks away. I
wanted to go there, but maybe another day.

As I walked past the buildings
with large glass windows, I looked at my reflection. The blond man
walked a few feet behind me with his head facing
forward.

I tensed so much that I squished
the bread in my jacket. Damn it. I knew the bread was an excuse to
leave the confines and get some fresh air, but I didn't want to
waste it.

Through the white shirt that
seemed to be painted on his body, I saw lean muscles and several
tattoos on his arms and chest. I slowed my pace just a tad in hopes
that he would pass me. I didn’t know why I was being like
that.

He passed me without another
glance in my direction. His pants, which hung haphazardly from his
hips, were wet to his shins. I watched the man for another minute,
then walked inside. I climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.
Henry was on the couch watching television and motioned for me to
come to him. After I placed the loaf of ruined bread in the trash,
I changed out of the drenched clothes. I crumbled them in the
washing machine then joined Henry. My skin was cold, and his body
felt warm next to mine. Not long after I sat, his cell phone rang,
and he answered it quickly.

"Sure. . .” he said, and then
looked at me. "Tonight? I'm not sure if I can make it. Let me see
if I have any plans." He held his hand over the cell phone ready to
speak to me.

"Go on. I understand if you need
to go in. It's no problem," I said.

He placed the phone back to his
ear and smiled. "Sure. I'll be there. No problem. I'll be happy to
look over it." Then he ended the call and pushed his body deeper
into the couch. I leaned back, and he wrapped his arm around me
then pulled me closer. We were robots going through the motions of
the same old routine. I glanced out the window and the sun had
almost completely set, causing deep red-oranges to fill the sky.
Today had been a complete waste.

"Sorry, babe. You know how those
special projects are. I'll show you the city this week.
Promise."

I smiled at him. "I can't
wait."

Henry kissed my forehead then
stood and walked to the bedroom. When he returned, he was wearing a
different set of clothes and had brushed his hair back. He looked
ready for a night on the town in his sports jacket.

If it weren't for him taking on
the expansion project, we wouldn't have been in London. If he
hadn't worked on that project for the past year, we would probably
be in different places in our lives. That project changed him, or
maybe I was the one who changed while he was away. I didn't know,
but things were different.

He bent down and kissed me, then I
watched the door shut. I sighed then lay back on the couch, looking
at the ceiling as my eyes went heavy. Dreams had eluded me lately.
The last time I dreamed, it was one of those recurring ones where I
was surrounded by darkness, unable to see. Every time I woke, I
felt hopeless. I supposed I'd rather not dream at all.

Hours passed, and at some point, I
had fallen asleep.

"Lauren, babe. Let's go to bed."
Henry grabbed my hand and led me to our room.

I kissed his mouth, and he tasted
of sweet berries. "When did you get home? Have you been drinking?"
I whispered.

"Only a few glasses of wine after
we left the office."

The warmth of his body comforted
me. It wasn't long before his light snores filled the room. He
draped his arm around me as we fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke to an
empty bed, while the sounds of zooming cars drifted through the
window. Henry must have opened them before he left this morning.
After I dressed, I grabbed my credit card, phone, and keys. I
locked the flat and made my way down the stairs. When I got to the
stoop, I sat down and called Lindsey, my cousin. She was the only
one in my family who knew my real thoughts about getting married.
That girl was the only one who could talk me through my anxiety.
Always being the positive person, Lindsey blamed it on nerves.
Somehow, I knew it was more than that.

When I was a little girl, being
married was what I dreamed about. I had my wedding to Prince
Charming planned. Now that it was happening, I found myself
questioning everything about it—questioning my love for Henry and
myself.

Lindsey was only a few months
older than me, and we experienced everything together. First kiss,
first love, bad breakups, and even things like getting our driver's
licenses. We used to sneak out at night and drink cheap liquor at
the airport while watching the planes fly over. We talked about all
the cool things we would do when we grew up. I wanted to be a
writer and get married, and she wanted to travel around the
world.

"It's going to be alright. If you
don't want to be there any longer, just come home. Henry won't say
a word about it, you know he won't. He's such a pushover. You
always get your way."

"I know, but I feel bad about
leaving him. He was so excited that I would be here with him. Now
that I'm here, I don't want to be."

"Come home, then. If you don't
want to tell him, I will fake some illness. Then I will call and
tell him myself. He won't argue."

I laughed but was grateful someone
understood me. Too often I felt like I was alone, but as long as
Lindsey was around, I knew I had a friend with my best interests in
mind.

"I'll stay for another week and
see how I like it. I've only been here a few days and haven't seen
the city. Maybe afterwards I'll change my mind." The air blew and I
closed my eyes as it brushed over my skin.

"So what are you doing today?"
Lindsey asked, and I could tell she was smiling.

"There is a bookstore on the
corner that sells coffee. I want to get a notebook and start
writing poetry again."

"Really? You haven't written for
years. I'm proud of you. Maybe you should start working on that
compilation you started years ago."

"Maybe."

We laughed and exchanged our
goodbyes. My mood changed drastically after speaking to her. She
seemed to be the only person who could do that. I had a way out if
I needed to leave, but honestly, I didn't want to lie to Henry.
When I was ready to go home, I would tell him the truth. Just
because London was beautiful didn't mean I wanted to live here for
the next year.

After a few minutes of enjoying
the scenery, I called Henry to let him know where I was going.
"Hey," I said.

"Hey, baby. Just woke
up?"

"I've been up for an hour or so.
Just wanted to let you know I'm going down to the bookstore and
then may do a little shopping."

"That should be fun. Take your
time. Love you."

"Love you, too."

I stood, making my way down the
sidewalk. Leaves fell and rustled across the cement. Fall was my
favorite season. I loved when the trees changed colors and how the
air carried a nip of winter.

Before I stepped completely into
the bookstore, I grabbed a shopping bag. They would be open for the
rest of the day, and I thought about spending my entire afternoon
there.

When I entered, the smell of pages
and creativity surrounded me. The lights were somewhat low but
bright enough to read. It had a quiet, comfortable vibe to it.
Immediately, I walked over to the moleskin notebooks and ran my
fingers across the pages. Then I picked out a few different pens
and pencils. If I was going to be in London for the next six
months, I would write. Maybe I would fill the pages with poetry,
and maybe I should finish that book of poems I started before Henry
and I got together.

After placing the supplies in a
shopping bag, I took my time walking down the aisles of books. I
loved the smell of paper and the feel of a new paperback in my
hands. Classic novels were neatly stacked on the end of an aisle
and
Pride and Prejudice
caught my eye. When I was in
college, Jane Austen's life interested me. To know that she died
single, in a period where marriage really did define women, made me
feel okay with my life. As I stood there, realization set in. I
might not know what I want, but I did know that I wanted to
experience life. And if living my life meant dying single like Jane
Austen, then it was worth it. Right?

I caught myself smiling as I
placed the paperback in my shopping bag and continued to the
comfortable chairs and small tables that were scattered around the
café portion of the bookstore. Caffeine. I desperately needed
some.

In front of me, a man ordered a
vanilla coffee with an English accent that was smooth and velvety
like chocolate. He stepped to the side and looked over his shoulder
at me. We made eye contact, and I saw little green and brown flecks
in his hazel eyes. He was familiar. I turned my head away from him
and ordered. Our coffees were ready at the same time, and we
reached out to grab them. He looked at me another time, but once
again, no words were exchanged between us.

When I walked away, recognition
set in. He was the man from yesterday with the bread.

London was a large city and to
think that we crossed each other's paths again seemed like fate.
Maybe I was thinking into it too much.

He sat at a table in the corner,
close to the windows that faced the street. I kept my head forward
and walked over to the magazines. Over the display, I watched him.
He sipped his coffee and stared out the window, then thumbed
through a book. My coffee steamed through the little hole in the
top, so I popped the lid off to help it cool quicker. As he
continued to turn the pages, I couldn't help but wonder what words
he was completely lost in. As if he could feel my burning gaze, he
looked up and made eye contact with me. Immediately, I looked down
at the magazines.
Busted.

My coffee cooled, and I took a sip
of the sweet caffeinated milk, replacing the lid. I looked back up
to see if he was sitting at the table, but he wasn't. I scanned the
seating area but didn't see him.

"Looking for someone?" a whisper
danced on my skin. At the sound of his smooth voice and accent, I
became nervous and felt my throat dry. I swallowed and grabbed my
coffee tight, turning around slowly. There he was, inches from me.
His hair was wild and messy, but he looked refreshed, like he had
just woken up from a nap. I looked down and caught a glimpse of the
book in his hand.
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
.
I slightly smiled, and he grasped the book tighter.

"Are you a fan of Shakespeare?" I
asked.

He licked his lips and sucked in a
breath. My heart hammered in my chest, and I didn't know if I would
be able to walk away. He was like a black hole, strange and
mysterious, with a gravitational force so intense that it sucked me
right in.

"Shakespeare is a man after my own
heart. His words are timeless, and through them, he will live
forever. The world wouldn't be the same without his
works."

Out of shock from his words, I
dropped my shopping bag full of books on the ground and
Pride
and Prejudice
fell out, along with the notebooks and pens. We
both bent down to pick up the contents, and I felt heat rush to my
cheeks. I had a feeling that he had this effect on women quite
often. He was too composed and calm to not.

He picked up the copy of Jane
Austen and stared at the cover for a second before handing it back.
The moment lasted too long between us.

"Austen. Many people claim to have
read classic novels but very few actually do. Most wait for the
film."

"I read Austen, Hemmingway,
Tolkien, Fitzgerald, Dickens . . . along with Shakespeare in a few
of my literature courses. Let's just say I'm friends with several
classic novelists."

"Interesting." He handed me the
paperback, and I stuffed it into the bag with the notebooks and
pencils. Before our conversation went any further, his cellphone
rang, interrupting the moment. He didn't say a word when he
answered but replied with a hurried “be right there,” before ending
the call.

"Enjoy your day, Miss."

"Thank you." Before he turned
around to walk away, I spoke. "Wait. I don’t know your
name."

He stopped in his tracks and moved
closer to me.

I reached my hand out to formally
introduce myself. "I'm Lauren."

He glanced down at the engagement
ring, then back at me. Slowly, he took my hand and moved it to his
lips and kissed my fingers. I blushed, once again, and knew that my
fair skin gave me away. Something so simple and sweet made my blood
sing.

He smiled, then looked into my
eyes and whispered, "There is power in knowing a person’s name. I'm
sure I'll see you around,
Lauren
." Then he walked away. I
watched him pass outside the windows with one hand in his coat
pocket as the other held onto his book.