“You know I wouldn’t take anything of your mother’s, Freya.” Scott actually looks hurt. “Look, I get it. You’re pissed. I think we both just need some time away. A little freedom. I’ll give you a call next time I’m in town, we can talk.”
“I’ve said everything I need to, don’t call me,” I whisper, the fight leaving me. I’ve gotten all the anger out and now I’m just sad. My eyes fill with tears and I stare hard at the floor, trying to will them away. I hear him walk closer and his shoes appear in my line of sight at the same time as he folds me into a hug. And I let him because I’m a noodle and he’s familiar and I’m sad. He holds me for a long minute, gives me an extra squeeze, then kisses the top of my head like I’m five. Seriously? Moment over. Planting both hands on his chest I shove him away.
“Goodbye, Freya.” Scott mutters. He turns and walks out the door without looking back.
6
Enrique
The work never ends. I’m glad of it, because now that I’ve seen her, all my mind wants to do is replay every minute I’ve ever spent with Freya on a loop. The sun in her hair. Her lips on mine. That night up in the loft. Her face in the rear view mirror the day I left her without saying goodbye...that broke me.
I was just a fucking kid. Freya and I spent that night together and I helped her sneak back through her window before the sun rose the next morning so her Aunt didn’t have a fit. Later that same morning I called my older brother, Marcel. He was in the military at the time, just starting a career in the Marines.
“Mar, I met a girl.”
“That’s nice kid, hope it’s nothing serious.” At his words my heart sank.
“I don’t know, I mean, I like her...a lot.” I loved her.
“I’ve only got a couple minutes to talk, so I’ll make this quick,” Marcel’s voice grated down the line. “You don’t need a woman yet, you’re too young and you’ve got too much to do with your life. You hear me? It’s over, walk away now before you can’t.” I heard him hold the phone away and tell someone he’ll be done in a minute.
“I gotta go,” I mumbled into the phone.
“Okay kid, I love you, you know. Just want what’s best.” He disconnects before I have time to respond. An hour later I get a call from my dad, telling me I need to come home early. We never talked about it, but I knew Marcel told him I was in over my head. They both had big plans for me to be a Marine too. We had a rough couple of years when I didn’t fall in line and went to college instead.
That’s all it took. I was too young, I did what they said and packed my shit. Said goodbye to my grandma and got in my car. As I was driving away Freya was coming up the street to see me. She waved and I ignored her, ripping off the band aid. I saw the smile fade from her lips as she watched me leave. Heard the sadness in her voice when she left messages on my phone. Cried when I read the one letter she sent.
The few times I went back to Edmundston after that, Freya was gone, off at college, travelling. Then my grandma moved off the farm to a retirement community close to my family, and that...was that.
Forgetting her was easy. That’s what I told myself everyday until I felt like it was true, it was a lie, of course, I don’t think you ever forget your first love. I dated, even got engaged once a couple years ago. Freya became a memory of the best time of my life and the worst I’ve ever felt. The heartache felt like a rite of passage.
All that crap crashed around my ears when I saw her blue eyes blazing with emotion as she yelled at me by her car. Married or not, I have to talk to her, have to tell her I’m sorry, have to salvage what I can, even if it means we can only be friends. The idea of being friends with Freya is almost laughable. She’s Freya. My heart broke over that girl.
Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s almost midnight. Walking to the shop in the back of the building, I hang up the tools I’m done with and glance out the little window over the bench.
Freya’s car is parked behind her shop.
I’m out the door and across the alley before I even think about what I’m doing. Lights are glowing, one in what looks like a little office window and then in the bigger front room.
I don’t want to startle her, but I want to talk to her, so I walk up the alley towards the front of the shop. As I reach the front door, I look through the glass in time to see Freya walking up the center hall towards me, swaying slightly. The more remarkable details would be that she’s carrying a bottle of whiskey...and wearing a wedding dress.
Freya’s eyes widen in surprise as they meet mine and then she gives me a playful smile and raises the bottle in a silent toast. Taking a drink, she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and walks over to the door. Unlocking the deadbolt, she steps back, letting me open the door without hitting the dress. I let the door fall shut behind me and we stand there staring at each other for a moment. She slowly holds out the bottle. I take it, noting the label, it’s really good stuff.
“Sorry it’s not beer,” Freya says softly.
I smile, taking a drink and enjoying the smooth burn as it rolls down my throat.
“This is special occasion stuff,” I hold the bottle out and she takes it, staring at the label.
“Not anymore,” Freya snorts delicately, “believe me, apart from the price, there is nothing special about it now.” She takes another drink, swirling the skirt around as she turns and walks over to a blue velvet couch placed strategically facing a little platform and a wall of mirrors. Acres of white dress fluff out around her as she sits.
“What happened, Freya?” I ask her quietly, my throat tightening when she looks down at the bottle in her hands and I see tears start spilling down her cheeks. I don’t know what to do with all that dress in the way, so I walk over and drop to my knees in front of her. Taking the bottle out of her hands, I set it aside and pull her into my arms.
Freya buries her face in my neck and her tears wet my shirt. As her shoulders heave, I feel her arms wrap around my waist and it’s a painful moment of happiness. I hate like everything to see her hurting, but my heart felt lighter the moment I touched her again. We sit that way for a long time. Finally, she leans back, sniffing quietly and looking away.
“So, a little p-erk of owning a bridal shop is getting to p-lay dress up whenever you want,” her voice hitches around her tears as she tries to lighten the mood, “usually it ch-eers me up.” I laugh softly.
“Why are you sad, Freya?” I watch her face until her eyes meet mine, her nose is red and she’s got spots of pink on her cheeks. She’s beautiful.
“Because I’m alone,” she whispers softly, then takes a deep breath and blows it out. “I’m sad because it’s almost Christmas and I signed divorce papers this morning. I’m sad because my ex is a dick that came back hoping to patch things up when things stopped being all roses with his side chick.” She covers her cheeks with her hands, staring at me. “I’m sad because I thought I would never see you again. Getting over you was awful and everyone I love leaves me and I don’t know what to do.”
7