The Meridian
Summary: This very short story was inspired by "The Wrong Man."
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whoever created them. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of the dialogue that appears in this story is not my own, but belongs to the writer of the Early Edition episode "The Wrong Man."
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
The Meridian
He saw her from across the street as she entered the restaurant. At that moment, he realized that Marissa was right. He needed closure; perhaps even secretly he yearned for it, knowing that he couldn't truly move on until he made peace with his demons. He would be the bigger man. He would give Marcia his blessing and would wish her well.
Was it his clumsiness or some cosmic force that caused him then to drop the pages out of The Paper? He didn't know. He wasn't even really listening when Chuck offered to retrieve the rebellious sheets of paper from the ground. All he knew was that when he looked up and gazed at her again, an unseen voyeur, what he saw shocked his entire system into disbelief. For there she was, smiling, gratefully accepting a bouquet of roses as her lips welcomed the mysterious other man, the question mark that had tormented his brain, her fiance- Pritchard!
No, it couldn't be. But it was. The Paper had confirmed it. Marcia was marrying Pritchard! When she had stopped by The Blackstone earlier to tell him that she was getting married again, he pretended that it didn't bother him, that it didn't feel like he had been punched in the gut. But it did. And he pretended that he wasn't curious about who the guy was, that it was none of his business, that it was a stupid question that he shouldn't have asked. But he wanted to know. He needed to know.
Pritchard. How could she be marrying Pritchard? That was the question that swirled uncontrollably in his head like a manic idea bred from lunacy. As he walked the path towards her house, he saw the movers loading items into a truck. Inside the house he found her sitting on the floor methodically packing things into boxes. He hadn't planned to sound so angry, so betrayed when he confronted her with the fact that he knew that she was marrying Pritchard. What could she possibly see in Pritchard? He challenged.
"We're good together. Phil and me. We fit. Our lives. Our careers. We could really make a powerhouse. My father thinks..." She argued.
He heard Marcia's words, but he wasn't buying her argument. It seemed too desperate, too contrived as if she were extolling the virtues of a new business merger with the potential to rock an uninspired and quiet financial landscape. Sure, she had said that she loved Pritchard, but her words had lacked passion; they seemed void of the true meaning associated with so wonderful, so special an emotion.
"Gary, what's really bothering you here? The man I'm going to marry or the fact that I'm getting married at all?" She countered defensively.
Ouch! He stiffened, hoping that she wouldn't notice his discomfort. She had definitely struck a nerve.
The movers seemed amused as they witnessed this unexpected soap opera between the ex-spouses.
"You're right. It's none of my business." He finally conceded. He had intended to leave when an object on the shelf caught his eye. It was the model boat that he had bought for her during their honeymoon in Antigua. It was a replica of the boat they had taken out for a sail one glorious day that seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Be careful of the Meridian when you pack it. The mast is loose." He cautioned.
As he touched the Meridian, the defiant mast fell down. He tried to fix it.
"Actually, I'm not taking this with me." She revealed.
"Oh, what, Phil doesn't like boats?" He said sarcastically.
"There are some people who hate the water." She replied.
"He doesn't..." He had heard enough as he started to leave when she called out to him.
"Gary. You should take this. You loved that trip."
She was right. He loved that trip. They both had as a flood of memories poured from his subconscious. They were so young, so in love. He thought that they were on the threshold of a long life together. He thought that they would be together forever.
He was wrong.
He remembered how she was initially afraid to go sailing until he talked her into it and how difficult it had been for them to catch a wind. He remembered how they had gotten lost as they drifted in the water in that boat for hours. But that determined little boat, the Meridian seemed unwilling to admit defeat. It didn't matter that the Meridian had taken an unexpected detour into uncharted waters. After all, what was life if not one continuous journey into uncharted waters?
The feel of her skin against his as she handed him the Meridian, a symbol of their past, stirred him from his memories.
"I wish you the best of luck." He whispered before leaving.
As he walked out of the door, he knew that it wasn't going to be easy finding closure, buying the hurt and pain. But he had to try. He had enough on his plate handling The Paper, dealing with the future. There was no room in his life for harboring on the past.
Hurt and pain didn't care that they were uninvited freeloaders for which there was no space. They were squatters who happily invaded his domain intending to remain there for an indefinite period of time all the while leaving a largess of stress and heartache.
Yet, he was like the Meridian that determined little boat. Life had set him adrift in uncharted waters without a compass. But somehow he would find his way towards closure.
Even with a loose mast.
The End.
Summary: This very short story was inspired by "The Wrong Man."
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whoever created them. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of the dialogue that appears in this story is not my own, but belongs to the writer of the Early Edition episode "The Wrong Man."
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
The Meridian
He saw her from across the street as she entered the restaurant. At that moment, he realized that Marissa was right. He needed closure; perhaps even secretly he yearned for it, knowing that he couldn't truly move on until he made peace with his demons. He would be the bigger man. He would give Marcia his blessing and would wish her well.
Was it his clumsiness or some cosmic force that caused him then to drop the pages out of The Paper? He didn't know. He wasn't even really listening when Chuck offered to retrieve the rebellious sheets of paper from the ground. All he knew was that when he looked up and gazed at her again, an unseen voyeur, what he saw shocked his entire system into disbelief. For there she was, smiling, gratefully accepting a bouquet of roses as her lips welcomed the mysterious other man, the question mark that had tormented his brain, her fiance- Pritchard!
No, it couldn't be. But it was. The Paper had confirmed it. Marcia was marrying Pritchard! When she had stopped by The Blackstone earlier to tell him that she was getting married again, he pretended that it didn't bother him, that it didn't feel like he had been punched in the gut. But it did. And he pretended that he wasn't curious about who the guy was, that it was none of his business, that it was a stupid question that he shouldn't have asked. But he wanted to know. He needed to know.
Pritchard. How could she be marrying Pritchard? That was the question that swirled uncontrollably in his head like a manic idea bred from lunacy. As he walked the path towards her house, he saw the movers loading items into a truck. Inside the house he found her sitting on the floor methodically packing things into boxes. He hadn't planned to sound so angry, so betrayed when he confronted her with the fact that he knew that she was marrying Pritchard. What could she possibly see in Pritchard? He challenged.
"We're good together. Phil and me. We fit. Our lives. Our careers. We could really make a powerhouse. My father thinks..." She argued.
He heard Marcia's words, but he wasn't buying her argument. It seemed too desperate, too contrived as if she were extolling the virtues of a new business merger with the potential to rock an uninspired and quiet financial landscape. Sure, she had said that she loved Pritchard, but her words had lacked passion; they seemed void of the true meaning associated with so wonderful, so special an emotion.
"Gary, what's really bothering you here? The man I'm going to marry or the fact that I'm getting married at all?" She countered defensively.
Ouch! He stiffened, hoping that she wouldn't notice his discomfort. She had definitely struck a nerve.
The movers seemed amused as they witnessed this unexpected soap opera between the ex-spouses.
"You're right. It's none of my business." He finally conceded. He had intended to leave when an object on the shelf caught his eye. It was the model boat that he had bought for her during their honeymoon in Antigua. It was a replica of the boat they had taken out for a sail one glorious day that seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Be careful of the Meridian when you pack it. The mast is loose." He cautioned.
As he touched the Meridian, the defiant mast fell down. He tried to fix it.
"Actually, I'm not taking this with me." She revealed.
"Oh, what, Phil doesn't like boats?" He said sarcastically.
"There are some people who hate the water." She replied.
"He doesn't..." He had heard enough as he started to leave when she called out to him.
"Gary. You should take this. You loved that trip."
She was right. He loved that trip. They both had as a flood of memories poured from his subconscious. They were so young, so in love. He thought that they were on the threshold of a long life together. He thought that they would be together forever.
He was wrong.
He remembered how she was initially afraid to go sailing until he talked her into it and how difficult it had been for them to catch a wind. He remembered how they had gotten lost as they drifted in the water in that boat for hours. But that determined little boat, the Meridian seemed unwilling to admit defeat. It didn't matter that the Meridian had taken an unexpected detour into uncharted waters. After all, what was life if not one continuous journey into uncharted waters?
The feel of her skin against his as she handed him the Meridian, a symbol of their past, stirred him from his memories.
"I wish you the best of luck." He whispered before leaving.
As he walked out of the door, he knew that it wasn't going to be easy finding closure, buying the hurt and pain. But he had to try. He had enough on his plate handling The Paper, dealing with the future. There was no room in his life for harboring on the past.
Hurt and pain didn't care that they were uninvited freeloaders for which there was no space. They were squatters who happily invaded his domain intending to remain there for an indefinite period of time all the while leaving a largess of stress and heartache.
Yet, he was like the Meridian that determined little boat. Life had set him adrift in uncharted waters without a compass. But somehow he would find his way towards closure.
Even with a loose mast.
The End.