Perfect Symmetry

A/N: I'm trying a new thing for this chapter. All the italicized parts are Jazz imagining a scenario/foreseeing her future.

I left the party shortly after that, since I didn’t want people asking questions and I certainly didn’t want them to give me their opinions since I hadn’t even properly formed mine. I changed into pajamas and sat on my bed, staring at the ring on my hand and trying to imagine married life with Jonathan…


“This is our house?” I whisper, my grip on Jonathan’s hand strengthening as I gape at the beautiful Italian style villa. It is enormous, with gorgeous stonework and large white pillars framing the front entrance.

Jonathan nods “Do you like it? I’ve been building it for a few years. I had them speed up the work once you told me you would marry me.”

I blush. “Mr. Toews you have done marvelously.”

“Mrs. Toews, welcome home,” he replies. “Hey, you know what the traditional thing to do when you cross the threshold for the first time.”

I furrow my brow for a moment before realizing what he is referring to. My eyes widen and I turn to look at him.

“Oh Jon you don’t have to--” I never finish my sentence because before I do, Jonathan has scooped me up and is holding me bridal style. I smile to myself.

“Tradition mandates it,” he brushes me off as we walk into our home for the first time.


Well maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I could certainly build my life around Jonathan. I loved him, after all, and we worked so well together. And I could just imaging the beautiful home we would have. Oh it would be lovely...tastefully decorated, and large and spacious with lots of guest rooms. Or...nurseries I suppose. I loved children, but I tried to imagine my life revolving solely around my children and I cringed.


“Joey, stop drawing on the walls,” I call out tiredly from my position in the kitchen, where I am trying to get dinner started.

Joey ignores me, drawing more furiously now.

I groan in exasperation. “Stevie can you please get your brother to stop being naughty?”

“No,” Stevie retorts, returning to his toys. I can’t really blame him. He’s six and Joe is a baby, only three. I dump some pasta into the pot and let the water boil and hurry over to snatch the markers from Joe’ stubby fingers.

“That’s very naughty, Joe. Mummy’s very upset with you,” I say sternly, pointing at the stains on the hardwood floor. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Joe’s dark eyes fill with tears and his lower lip trembles and I wince in preparation for the waterworks on the way. His mouth opens and even though there isn’t a sound yet, I know it’s coming.

“Joe, I love you but you can’t make messes like this. If you want to play with markers you have to tell me so I can put you on a mat,” I say gently. That doesn’t stop the volcano of tears. He erupts into cries and I try to comfort him.

“Mom the pot’s overflowing!” Stevie calls from the kitchen, his voice full of awe.

“Oh shit!” I cry out. “Stevie don’t touch it!”

“What does shit mean?” Stevie giggles as I turn down the heat and drain the pasta.

“Never you mind,” I growl. Nights when Jon was on the road are the hardest. It’s basically like being a single parents. And two boys are tough to handle…


I shivered. I would have to give up work, my social life...all to be a mother. Is that really what I wanted? But then there was Jonathan...I loved being with him! But just because we were married does not mean we would spend any more time together. After all, he would still be a hockey player and I would still be a business woman. We would be husband and wife...but those would be our secondary identities.


I smile proudly as I pull out the roast lamb I had prepared that evening. I had left work early and made it home to marinate the meat and prepare all the side dishes too. There is mashed potatoes steaming on the stove, and the broccoli has just finished cooking and I serve it onto a platter. The table is set and there are candles lit. I glance at the clock. Jonathan usually comes home around seven after a hard practice, and I want to surprise him with a home cooked meal.I did this a lot during the first year of our marriage but haven’t found the time to do it recently.

The clock hits seven. Then seven-thirty. Then eight-thirty. I text him a few times, and try calling his cell, but there’s no answer. I eat dinner alone at that beautifully set table, tears welling up in my eyes.

I put away the leftovers and clean up and pull on pajamas. It is midnight by the time he gets home.

“Hey,” he greets me, putting his bag down.

“Hey, where were you?” I try to ask it lightly, but I come out just sounding ill.

He shrugs. “Dinner with the guys.”

“Long dinner,” I remark with a smile, still trying to keep the conversation calm.

I see his jaw clench up. “We got some drinks after. You know how it is.”

I nod, looking down at my toes. “You should have called me. I would have come and joined you,” I say quietly.

Jon frowns. “It was kind of a guys night. Plus my phone died.”

I accept that, even though there were fifteen guys’ phones he could have used.

“Still, I wish you had called,” I repeat softly.

“Why? Were there special plans tonight or something?” Jon sounds irate now as he takes off his shoes and reaches for a bottle of water.

I shake my head, blowing out the last candle and shoving the plate I had saved for him into the fridge.

“I suppose not,” I admit.

I get into bed and Jonathan soon follows. We sleep on either side of the bed, our arms barely touching.

That was a tough scenario to swallow, since I knew that was pretty close to what would actually happen in real life. I glanced at my clock and saw that it was seven in the morning. Where did those hours go, wondered. I got up slowly and made my way into the kitchen, knowing Kaner would most likely not even be home, not to mention awake at seven on New Years Day.

I put the ring back into its box but held onto it as I made myself some coffee. I then sat on my settee and drank it slowly. I turned the television on and stared blindly as an old episode of The Office came on. It was the American version, which comes second after the British version anyway.

Halfway through the episode the front door opened and Patrick stood there, disheveled but surprisingly alert.

“Hi,” I greeted dully.

He jumped. “Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me, Jazz. What are you even doing up? It’s like seven in the morning.”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Patrick dumped a duffel bag in his room and then came and sat next to me on the couch with a rather concerned look on his face.

“Do you need me to kick some ass? Because I’ll do it, you know. Even if it’s Tazer,” he offered seriously.

I cracked a smile at that, but remained mostly emotionless. “Whoa, okay so this is really serious. What happened?” Pat pressed.

I said nothing; I just looked at the black box in my hand blankly. Pat soon noticed and pried it out of my hand gently. “Oh fuck no way in hell he proposed,” he gasped as he opened it and saw the ring.

“He proposed,” I echoed flatly.

“Jazz, that’s amazing! I knew he loved you but I never thought I would ever see a Jonny ready to settle down. Ever!” Pat exclaimed, still gaping at the ring.

“I don’t know if I can do it. I want to though,” I whispered.

Pat’s elation faded and he put the ring down. Silently, he took my hand. We sat like that for quite a long time. I fell asleep, and I don’t know when he let go.
~

I sat in my apartment for quite a few days. I flip flopped my decision a lot but finally came to a decision that I knew I would ultimately be glad I made. I called Jonathan and I said I would come over to his place. I wanted this moment to be private, just ours.

He opened the door to his place with trepidation, I could tell he was nervous. I had the ring in my coat pocket and I was clutching it anxiously.

“How are you?” Jon asked anxiously as I sank into his sofa.

“Tired,” I admitted with a smile. “What about you?”

“I’m...fine,” he seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say partway through it.

I cleared my throat, eager to get to the meat of the conversation quickly. I took a deep breath.

“Jonathan, I love you so much. I just...I don’t think I’m ready for marriage yet,” I said quickly.

His eyes widened. “What? But...you used to talk about your family and your kids a lot.”

I blushed. “Well that was really before my career really took off. If we were to marry and have kids, which I assume will happen, I would have to choose between my career and my children! Don’t you see what a shitty position that puts me in?”

Jon grasped my shoulders. “Jazz, you’re looking way too far into the future. We can be married without the kids and all that for years if you want to. Forever, if that’s what you want.”

“But we haven’t even been together for a year yet; how can we know if we’re totally right for each other yet?” I asked worriedly. “I don’t want us to wake up in two years and realize we’re not working any more. Marriage is so permanent! Can’t we just keep dating seriously? Or we could be engaged and not get married for a while?”

Jonathan frowned. “If I ask you to marry me, I want you to marry me. I won’t wait a year. And it seems silly to go backwards when I’m dying to take the next step and go forward.”

“What if...what if we lived together? That’s a compromise,” I tried desperately.

“I don’t want to compromise on this huge life decision,” he snapped. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s marriage or nothing, Jazz.”

I wrung my hands and stood up to pace the room. I was fidgety and my palms were slick with sweat.

“Don’t you dare give me an ultimatum Jonathan that is a horrible way to corner me into making a decision! Besides, if I do say yes, how would you know it was for the right reasons? I hate ultimatums” I cried exasperatedly, mostly talking to myself.

“I hate the dentist, but unfortunately we all have to deal with it,” he growled passive aggressively.

I was silent for a few moments.

“Does it really have to be all or nothing?” I whispered, frustrated tears rolling down my face.

Jon closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples.

“I...I think it does, Jazz,” he replied firmly.

I nodded, my fingers curling around the velvet box inside my pocket. I stroked it fondly. For the past few days it had been my companion as I agonized over this decision.

I walked to where Jonathan was sitting and knelt down in front of him.

“I love you more than anything,” I choked. “But I can’t marry you, Jonathan. Not yet.”

I pressed the box into his hand and kissed his mouth quickly before standing up, taking one last look at his stunned face, wiping my eyes, and running the hell out of that apartment.