Guilt

“Dear, what did you say those glasses look like again?” Matt asked, sifting through a whole bunch of odds and ends in the coffee table drawer. Julianne, who kneeled right next to him running her arms underneath the couch to make sure they hadn’t somehow gotten lodged under there, straightened up and pinched the skin on the underside of his arm hard between her fingernails.

“Don’t call me dear,” Julianne snapped before continuing her end of the search. “Kel—They’re the red ones from the beach, the Wayfarers,” Julianne corrected herself quickly, changing the subject before she finished her statement.

“Right,” Matt answered, absent-mindedly rubbing the small pinprick of pain on his arm where Julianne pinched him. That was her main weapon against him, pinching the underside of his arm like that. If she got really upset with him, she’d even add in a little twist to cause even more pain. “I’ll go search upstairs. You continue down here.”

“Got it,” Julianne replied, shifting over to search under the armchair. Matt straightened to his feet and headed up to the second story.

The Search for Sunglasses campaign began when Matt and Julianne decided to hang out in the backyard for a bit. However, Julianne’s sunglasses had gone mysteriously missing, so instead of taking Matt up on his offer of wearing his aviators, Julianne insisted on finding her own sunglasses before they stepped foot outside.

Matt prodded around in Julianne’s bathroom upstairs, wondering if maybe she’d thrown them haphazardly down somewhere in there, simultaneously reflecting back on Julianne and his relationship with her.

After the get-together at the beach, Matt did indeed call Julianne to schedule a friendly date. He’d sensed her reluctance at first to agree, but then something seemed to have gone off in her head, and soon she was not only agreeing but suggesting places they could go. As Matt had expected, they had a great time together. The floodgates to their relationship burst open.

As Matt became closer and closer to Julianne, he came to notice things he hadn’t at first glance. Other than him, Julianne didn’t appear to have any other friends. She preferred to work rather than have much free time, volunteering steadfastly to work on Saturdays at the body shop. She also seemed just a wee bit depressed. Now that Matt knew her well enough that they at least spoke on a daily basis, he began to see the lifeless glint hiding inside Julianne’s hard chocolate brown eyes. She rarely smiled, and he only managed to force laughter from her after very careful and persistent prodding. Her sarcasm seemed to not come from humor, but a tough bitterness nestled somewhere inside her. She spoke her mind, not caring whether the words coming out were kindred or not. It all seemed to stem from some deep inner hardness, like a little bit of her soul had solidified into ice inside her.

Matt still didn’t know why she acted like this. He wanted to find out, however, because he wanted to help her with whatever it was. Once he started to get to know her better, he would confront her about it and hope for the best.

Matt wandered into the guest bedroom, not expecting to find anything in there. The closet door stood ajar, so he drifted towards it just to make sure. The closet was empty except for a shoe box sitting on the carpeted floor, nudged into a darkened corner. Curiosity influencing his actions, Matt leaned down and snatched the shoe box up, pulling off the lid to find it full of photos and even a ring box. Most of the pictures included Julianne and another man Matt didn’t recognize, or that he had ever seen before. Completely forgetting about the Search for Sunglasses campaign, Matt wandered back downstairs, wanting to at least ask Julianne about the pictures in the box.

“Hey, Julianne,” Matt said upon walking into the living room. Julianne straightened up and searched his hands quickly for her sunglasses. Instead, shock took over her expression upon seeing the box in Matt’s hands. He sat down on the couch, and Julianne perched herself beside him, staring with widened eyes into the box resting in his lap.

Cautiously, she snaked a hand into the box and pulled out the picture lying on top. It was of the same man in all the other pictures: he looked as though he’d been surprised by the presence of the camera. Matt watched as Julianne studied the picture. Then, she reached up and stroked her index finger shakily down the man’s frozen face.

“Kelly,” Julianne whispered, her voice barely louder than a breathless sigh. She seemed in utter awe of the picture—something else, too, but Matt couldn’t place it.

“Who?” Matt asked.

“Kelly, my...my husband,” Julianne whispered. Matt blinked, shocked as Julianne replaced the first picture with a second, her attention focused on nothing more than the man’s face. He’d been under the impression that Julianne was single. He looked closely at her hands—she wasn’t even wearing a wedding ring!

“And where is this husband?” Matt asked, his voice strangely loud compared to Julianne’s awed whisper. He couldn’t hide the shock, or even the slight frustration, in his voice.

Much to Matt’s surprise, a single tear slipped down Julianne’s pale cheek.

“He died a year ago,” Julianne answered.

Everything snapped into place. The other emotion in Julianne’s voice, other than the awe, was love. Love and devotion. Quickly, Matt studied the man in the pictures.

The man—Kelly, his name was—didn’t quite reach six feet, but he was close. He wasn’t built like Matt—he was skinnier, lankier, less muscular. His gently curling black hair flopped down across his skull, shining healthily in every picture. He had emerald green eyes several shades darker than Zacky’s. He was a good-looking fellow, and he looked so happy in every picture, especially the ones with Julianne right by his side.

He must’ve made Julianne happy, too. But why were all her pictures of him locked away in a shoe box, hidden from her view?

Julianne’s hand brushed his, jerking him back into reality, as she reached into the box to pull out the velvet-shrouded ring box inside. Expertly, she flipped it open with her thumb. Encased in the soft cushion inside sat a sparkling diamond ring with the largest diamond in the middle, and several smaller ones tapering out along the edges. It was dainty and beautiful, and Matt instantly knew it would look great on Julianne’s hand. He knew it was her wedding ring without even asking.

Julianne stared at the ring for several moments, not even moving a muscle. She didn’t even pull it out to try it on once, just for old time’s sake. After several more seconds, something inside her snapped and exploded out of her.

She was on her feet before Matt could comprehend the movement. Within seconds, she’d wrenched the shoe box out of his lap, glaring down at Matt with a sudden flame in her eyes rather than just the dead lump of chocolate they usually were.

She opened her mouth, and a pained shriek seemed to nearly shake the windows in their frames.

“GET OUT!” she shrieked. Tears rose in her eyes, clouding her irises with her pain. “GET OUT! LEAVE! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!”

Matt decided it best not to stick around to comfort her. Instead, he quickly rose to his feet and followed her instruction, leaving the house and heading back towards his. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he would go back and comfort her. Maybe by then she would’ve calmed down.