Undream the Echoes

Liam
12.31.2003

It’s New Year’s Eve. I haven’t seen or spoken to Elle in four months. Four months. At this point I’m about to kill myself from all the worrying that I do. What is she up to? Has she met someone new? Should I move on? I want to contact her but the last time I tried was on our three year anniversary, and she just hung up on me. I’m kicking myself for not trying again…but I figure she just needs space. It’s not like she’s done anything to help, either. She hasn’t called, emailed, or even texted me.

When I think about it too much I realize that she’s probably forgotten all about me. She’s probably met this amazing blond surfer guy with an Australian accent and now she’s living with him in Europe. I wait and I wait for the divorce papers to arrive in the mailbox. Please sign these will be the note she leaves on the post-it note on top. That’s probably all she’ll say. Just sign these so I can get you out of my life. I check by the mailbox every day on my way to work, even on Sundays (just in case), searching for these dreaded papers to show up.

But they never do.

I’m not sure if this is hope. I’m not sure if this means I should keep hoping. Because at the same time, no news is worse – much worse – than not knowing. I’d rather know what’s going on, even if it’s bad.

Finally I decide to do something. Liam, you stupid asshole, I tell myself in the mirror while I’m shaving. You’ve survived hundreds of wrestling matches with Landon. You’ve won dozens of awards in high school for sports, even against those big bulky guys on horse steroids. You’ve been to war and back. If you can’t get your girl back, you’re officially a loser. Yeah, that’s about the extent of my pep-talk for myself.

I know Elle is going to Cheri’s New Year’s Eve party tonight. Cheri throws a party on the rooftop of her apartment building (Cheri’s extremely rich and owns the entire stop floor) and it used to be Elle and my tradition to party there for the dawn of a new year. Well, it’s just Elle’s tradition now. And I have a feeling Elle has moved in with Cheri (I mean, where else would she go; Cheri’s her best friend and the rest of her family’s in Georgia), so it’s a pretty good guarantee I’ll see her there tonight.

I try to look good for tonight. I comb my hair, taming it as much as I can, and I shave – something I haven’t done in days. I put on a good suit, since Cheri’s parties tend to be on the fancier side, and put on my best tie. But when I try to smile, I simply cannot do it. I look absolutely miserable. I’m wearing my most expensive clothes and I still look like a piece of shit.

Whatever, I tell myself. It’s now or never.

With this thought, a chill goes through me. What if I show up and she rejects me? What then? Does that mean it’s over for good? I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without Elle. Four months has been bad enough. What the fuck am I supposed to do with myself if she says no? Find a new girl? There’s no one who’s prettier and funnier and more amazing than my wife. No one. Then I think, maybe no news is better than bad news. I contemplate not going to the party.

But I already have this damn suit on, so I might as well go. I can’t be a pussy, not now.

It’s time to get my girl back.

The party is raging. When I first walk in I’m caught a bit off guard from the lights and the loud music and swaying bodies of the dancing people, but then I realize I really shouldn’t be surprised. Leave it up to Cheri to host something like this.

I’m confused how Cheri gets away with throwing such a loud party without having her neighbors calling and complaining – then I realize that either no one cares since it’s New Years and they’re partying too, or people are calling and Cheri has just dumped her phone in the toilet to make it stop ringing. It isn’t unlikely that she would do something like that.

Cheri, ironically, is the first one to see me. She’s shocked that I’ve actually showed up, and at first she seems worried – as if she’s torn between telling Elle that I’m here or just leaving it be – but finally she gives me a grateful smile. “I’m glad you came,” she says and her lip ring glints in the dim lights. “Elle will be glad to see you too.”

“Really?” I ask incredulously.

“Well, no, probably not. At least she won’t act like it. But deep down inside I bet she’ll be happy.” She winks at me. “Just be stubborn. No one can get through Elle without being stubborn. Besides,” she adds and leans to whisper in my ear, “you’ve got to get her off my back and out of my apartment. All she does is work and sulk all day. It’s killing me.”

“Yeah, well, if I get her to move back in with me, it’ll be a miracle,” I say and sigh. I’m more nervous than ever.

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” Cheri says and slaps me on the back.

I shoot her a look. “Fine? I’ll be lucky to get out of here with both my balls intact.”

“Yeah, Elle’s a bit of a tiger, huh?” she says and laughs. I remain grim. “Here, have a drink,” Cheri says and hands me a beer. “You’ll need it.”

“Pfft. No kidding,” I mutter and take a large swig. I let the crisp liquid slide down my throat and my eyes roam the crowd – and then I see her.

She’s standing along the outskirts of the crowd, half-facing the party, half-facing the city that lay at her feet, as if she’s torn between socializing with her friends and the beauty of the Boston. She looks gorgeous in her sleek black dress, but also so alone and so, so sad. From up here on the roof, Boston glitters below her, like fireflies swimming at the bottom of a blackened lake. She’s leaning on the railing now and I can see her frail shoulders (she’s gotten thinner since the last time I saw her) rise and fall; she lets out a sigh. I inhale deeply and take another swig of my beer before summoning the courage to approach her. As I cross the rooftop, it feels like in Afghanistan again, creeping along the desert while anticipating a rainfall of bullets.

“Hey.”

She spins around at the sound of my voice, her blue eyes wide with shock. I’m slightly surprised that she was able to hear my soft-spoken word over the sound of the blaring music, but then I figure she would be able to distinguish my voice from the party easily. My voice, after all, hasn’t reached her ears in months on end, and I know this is just me being optimistic, but I think that maybe she’s missed my voice as much as I’ve missed hers.

But those thoughts flicker away as she continues to stare at me. She doesn’t say anything.

I clear my throat uncomfortably. “I’m surprised you’re not drinking,” I commented. “You love champagne on New Year’s.”

“I gave up drinking for a while,” she says in a clipped tone and turns away from me to stare at the city. Her voice is not joyful and welcoming like I had wished it to be. Instead, she’s being very curt, like she does when she talks to a stranger. “I don’t…I can’t trust myself when I’m drunk anymore.”

“Elle…”

“What are you doing here?” she finally blurts out, her voice full of accusation. “Who let you in?” That last statement is bitter and it makes my blood run cold.

“I came here myself.” I’m gripping the railing tightly now, my knuckles turning white. She’s going to say no. She’s going to reject me. I’m going to be alone forever. “I wanted to see you,” I add.

“Well, Liam, I’m sorry. But I don’t want to see you.” And she turns and walks away.

“Hold on – ” I grab her arm and, much to my shock, she doesn’t pull away. She seems to be confused by my touch, like she knows that she’s supposed to pull away but in her heart she knows she enjoys it. And I swear, I swear I see goose bumps rise on her arm. “Why.” She’s speaking in a flat tone through gritted teeth. “Why did you come here.”

“To get you back.”

“You don’t want me back, trust me,” she says fiercely and finally tears away from me. I’m confused. Did she really just say that, or am I being delusional? Isn’t she supposed to say something like She doesn’t want me back?

I quickly regain my wits and chase her inside, where the roar of the party is muffled and it’s just her and me. “Stop running away, Elle,” I say. She’s pacing around, fuming, and occasionally glancing at me with looks that range from angry to confused to depressed to angry again. “Why don’t you want us to be together anymore?” I dare to ask, terrified of the answer she’s going to give me.

“I…” She falters and looks at her feet, an ashamed blush creeping on her cheeks. “I don’t deserve you,” she mumbles.

I almost laugh. And thank god I don’t, because laughing at Elle when she’s embarrassed is a deadly mistake, as I’ve learned from our years together. “Why?” I ask softly and step towards her, closing the space between us. She lets me reach up and cup her cheek. “Why?”

“I cheated on you,” she blurts out. Then, seemingly unable to stop the words from flowing, she continues to confess: “I was drunk at a club and then I was dancing with a guy and I don’t really know how this happened but we started making out and…and…”

“And?” I ask.

“And…that’s it. I kissed someone else.”

“…So?”

“So? What do you mean so?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” I risk a laugh and Elle looks completely confused and bewildered.

“But that’s why I’ve been avoiding you for so long! I thought you knew and hated me! That’s why I hung up when you called me and – ”

“That’s why you haven’t called me at all?” I cry out. “Elle – Elle, god, you’re so dumb! I don’t care about shit like that! So what if you kissed someone else, it’s not like you fucked the guy.” I laugh out loud, which feels weird because I am sort of mad; yeah, I’m a bit jealous and upset she did that, but if I’m about to divorce her for something like that then I’m a fucking idiot. Besides, I’m mostly mad because something so stupid that has kept us apart for so long. “I mean, we were fighting, and you were drunk. Who the fuck cares?”

“So you’re not angry?” she asks in a small voice.

“I thought you had moved on to someone else after all this time! To find out you only kissed someone else…god, that’s a relief.”

“Really?”

“Well, to make you feel better, while I thought we were broken up, I did go out on a date with a girl a few weeks back…”

She slaps me across the cheek. “You jerk!” she yells.

“Hey! Ow, that’s actually hurt,” I grumble and rub my cheek. “Goddamn you have serious issues.” By now we’re both laughing. Elle has tears in her eyes, but I don’t know if it’s from happiness or heartbreak or I don’t know what else. We’re just two very insane people, I guess. “She was ugly, by the way. And horribly boring.”

“What’s her name?”

“I’m not telling, are you kidding me? You’ll stalk her and murder her in her sleep.”

Outside, people are screaming: "Ten, nine eight…"

“I love you,” Elle says and smiles up at me, the same smile she used to give me when we were first dating.

"Seven, six, five, four…”

“I love you too.”

"Three, two…ONE!”

“Happy New Year,” I murmur, and then we kiss.