“Hey,” he says, but I can tell he’s still annoyed with me since our last conversation, and what I’m going to tell him now isn’t going to make it any better.
“You wanna go with me to Boston?” I ask and then add, “I may have found Nora.” It’s a stretch and I know it, but I have to make this sound not so ridiculous.
“Nope,” Matts says, clipped and concise.
“Dude, don’t be a dick. I know you think this is a bad idea, but I’d really appreciate it if you came along.”
“I don’t want to be a part of fucking up your relationship with Bridgitte and having Maggie hate me too,” Matt says and I do see his point. Maggie is Matt’s wife and since Bridgitte and I began dating, the two of them have become close. Despite the distance, they talk and text as often as Matt and I do. I realize by involving Matt in all of this, I’m asking him to either lie to his wife or to tell her the truth, and risk her blowing this whole thing up.
“Maggie doesn’t have to know anything. Just tell her we’re doing a guys weekend or whatever. It could turn out to be nothing and then there’s nothing to tell anyway.”
The line goes silent for a bit and I know Matt is contemplating it. I add a quick please in there and I hear him let out a long sigh.
“Fine. I’m in,” he says, but he sounds anything but thrilled. “I swear to god if this turns out be a fucking mess, I’ll throw you under the bus in a second.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say dismissing his comment. We both know he’s full of shit. We’ve been friends since we were eight and never once have we turned on each other. It’s not going to happen now.
We make a plan to tell the girls we’re going to Boston for a baseball game, which isn’t completely unbelievable, but it’s also something neither of them will question. Not wanting to wait much longer, we schedule the trip for next weekend and I immediately put in for a few vacation days at work. We’re leaving on Thursday night and we’ll be back by Monday night. This is all pending that I don’t actually find Nora. I haven’t given much thought as to what I’ll do if this person happens to be her. Would I stay longer? Would I ditch Matt and spend my time with Nora? Fuck if I know because the whole thing is beginning to sound fucking ridiculous even to me.
My workday goes by quickly, and before I know it Bridgitte arrives home as I’m finishing up a conference call. She opens the office door and gives me a half-hearted smile, the kind that says she’s bothered by the fact that she’s home and I’m still working. The last thing I feel like doing tonight is rehashing a million wedding ideas with her over dinner, so I extend the call longer than necessary.
By the time I’m done, she’s sitting on the couch annoyed as fuck, but far be it for her to just say it out loud. She averts her eyes when I walk in the room, avoiding me because she knows I’m the one who will call her out on it. Yet somehow that makes me the bad guy. She’d rather go along acting like things are quiet and perfect. The more she plans the wedding, the more clearly I see things. She wants perfection and I certainly can’t give her that.
“Do you want to get dinner?” I ask her, as if food will solve the fact that something is bothering her. I’m not in the mood to argue with her. I lose every single time and not because she’s right, but because I just give in.
“No,” she responds back but never makes eye contact with me. Her answer is weak and her voice is shaky. I watch her swallow hard before she speaks again. “You’re different,” she murmurs and I see the tears well up in her eyes when she finally turns to look at me.
“So are you,” I tell her and as much as I don’t really want to have this conversation with her, it’s probably about time. “I’m so fucking sick of your obsession with the wedding.” It comes out fast and harsh, and I immediately see a flash of anger cross her face, the tears ceasing.
“You don’t want this,” she hisses, as she rises from the couch and takes a defensive stance as if she’s preparing to convince me that I want this overblown wedding shit.
“I don’t. This is not at all what I expected when we got engaged, Bridgitte. You’ve let it take over your life.”
“Not the wedding!” she screams and I step back. I’ve never heard Bridgitte respond like this to anything other than when she gets drunk with her friends and yells about stupid shit. “You don’t want any of this,” she says, her voice more composed this time, but her hands fly around as if she’s indicating that I don’t want our life together.
“That’s not true. I do. I love you, Bridgitte.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know there’s a small amount of fallacy to the statement. I’m not certain I want this, but a part of me wonders if this is just what life becomes. The intensity and the obsessive need to be near someone fades, and you fall into a complacent and normal existence together. I do believe I love Bridgitte. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have stayed this long. I’m just not sure it’s the kind of love that spans decades.
“I think we both need a break for a while,” she says on an exhale, her arms folded across her chest as she begins to leave the room.
“So that’s it?” I ask. “You just walk away and nothing gets resolved, huh?” I’m baiting her to finish this argument, to settle things, but she has no interest.
“Yeah, Elliot, this is it. I’m going to stay with a friend of mine from work and you go off on your trip to Boston—”
I cut her off quickly, not giving her a chance to continue. “How the fuck do you know about my trip to Boston?”
“Maggie,” she says, once again, her tone clipped, like a jab at me for failing to mention it quickly enough.
“I’m so fucking glad the rest of the world knows my plans before I even get a chance to tell my fiancé.” I pull my hands through my hair, furious at Matt and Maggie for making me look like I’m keeping something from Bridgitte. And even though I am, I wasn’t keeping the trip a secret.
“I’m not your fiancé,” Bridgitte says, sharply and my eyes dart to her hand as she adds, “My ring is on the kitchen table.”
“What the fuck, Bridgitte? Seriously? This seems a bit extreme.”
“Listen, Elliot, go to Boston, get your shit together and we’ll see what happens when you get back.” She’s very definitive in her words, as if she’s given this more thought than just today.
I feel blindsided despite my own feelings. I didn’t expect Bridgitte to be the one who would end it. Quite honestly, I never even thought it would come to this.
“If this is what you want,” I start to say, not entirely sure where to go from there. I don’t want to lose Bridgitte, but maybe I’m only holding on to her because I have nothing else.
The conversation ends there, because a few minutes later Bridgitte has her suitcase packed and she’s walking out the door. No more words are exchanged and as much I feel like I should stop her, I don’t. I let her leave.
Chapter Fifteen
The week passes so fucking slowly that by the time Thursday night arrives I’m not even interested in trying to find Nora. I’m exhausted, physically and mentally. The breakup with Bridgitte is taking a toll on me that I never thought was possible. I miss her, and pair that with my stressful week at work and I’m done.