It's three thirty in the morning. Not a soul in sight. The city looking like a ghost town, it's a moonless, summer night. There's a storm moving in and he's heading back from somewhere that he never should have been. He's heading back from the arms of another woman, from one that his wife knew, was actually really good friends with. He had always thought she was attractive, but never stood a chance. So why now? Why is he able to cheat on his wife, to make these horrible decisions? Why did he caress one woman and drive home to tell the other how much he loved her and can't live without her? He's walking through the storm, contemplating all this as the thunder rolls.
Back in there house across town, every light in the house is burning as she paces, waiting for him to come home. She is so worried about him, especially in this storm. And she sincerely hopes it's the storm that has kept him out this late and not what she has suspected for a long time. That he is out with another woman. That they aren't actually growing apart and away from each other. That this bitter jealousy, this uncontrollable storm in her heart in unwarranted.
She is sitting in the window seat when she sees him walking up the drive. She runs out into the rain, to weather the storm, just thankful he's alive. But the wind changes direction and she can smell the perfume, the heavy kind that didn't wash away even in the drenching rain. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and reflected in her eyes and he knew, without a doubt, that she knew what was going on.
The storm blows on, out of control. They fight about everything they can think of, destroying their pictures and memories and knowing that this is the end. They fight about the tiny things that got on each others nerves and they fought until he finally stormed out of the house, the door slamming like thunder.
She finally just fell to the floor to sit among the pieces of broken glass and photographs. She picks up a piece of torn photograph and then just lets it fall again, reluctantly releasing the last of what was her past. It seems like it struck without any warning. Or did she just ignore the signs that dark clouds were building behind her silver lines? She knew that night when he didn't return home till late, but didn't she notice what was going on before that? Was she ignoring herself and those who were still her friends, telling her that he wasn't happy with her, was seeking out the arms of another woman, was finally indulging in that forbidden fantasy with the woman she knew he had liked, had always said was sensual and attractive, all the accusations against him whirling like a hurricane in her head, battering her brain. Tears fell down her face like rain, drowning her in emotions. She's alive, but she isn't sure she can survive this storm.
She starts going around the house picking up the pieces of her life, both emotionally and literally as she picks up mementos from all occasions. A broken jewel box dancer, lies in pieces down the hall. Glass everywhere from the mirror. She hopes he is cursed by seven years bad luck. Damn him. The answers changed nothing, didn't make her feel satisfied. What happened? What went wrong? She has to move on, she can't let this consume her life. She keeps reliving the memories.
The door, it slammed like thunder, the tears, they fell like rain. The warnings from her family whirl like a hurricane. She was drowning in emotion, she couldn't reach the shore. She was alive, but could she survive the storm?
Days just go on by now, as she continues on with her life, some of them don't have a gray cloud in the sky. She keeps telling herself "I'll make it on my own" and her friends have all gone back to their lives, thinking she'll be alright. But each night she races home, afraid to face the world for too long at a time.
He followed her to work this morning. It seems like he follows her a lot these days. She was wearing a new dress too. One that looked very nice on her. One that he had never seen before. She just seemed to sail along, without a care or worry in the world. And he knows he can't do that. Seven years of marriage. That's how long they were married when he decided to dump it all for a few moments pleasure. Because after their fight, he couldn't face that other woman again, knowing she was the reason he had given up on seven years of marriage. Seven months later, he realizes his mistake.
And he knows she's going to make it, while he, well, he never will. It's not like she's forgot about him, though. She's just dealing with the pain. It is driving him up the wall, completely insane that she is getting along so WELL without him. Never seems to have a weak moment. He never sees her when she is alone in bed. When she cries her heart out every night that he left. It's so crazy too, because she would take him back without a moments hesitation. But the fool in him that walked out is the fool that just won't ask. Yes, she's gonna make it and he never will.
He wondered what she was doing now. Last time he had seen her, it had been getting colder, about Halloween time. In fact, it had been at a reunion. He didn't dare approach her, knew better than to try and even say hi, because he was certain that he would be cursed to Timbuktu. But it was years ago. She was married again, as far as he could tell, and happier for it. He didn't even know where she was anymore.
He tried one time to call her on the telephone contraption that she had insisted they have, but she had left the old house and no body there knew her name or her number. He wondered if she had ever tried to get hold of him, had written letters that he had never seen. Letter that she kept somewhere or maybe just ripped up as she cursed his name.
He had no idea what she was really doing now, but she is filling his mind everyday, emptying his heart. The wind taunts him as it whispers her name in the cold autumn air. The rains that batters him as he remembers that fateful night that he walked out on it all. As he remembers the biggest mistake of his life.
She doesn't know what to wear. She feels so, out of place, so teenaged. It has been so long. But she is set up for a blind date tonight. So she smiles her best smile, laughs at everything that she needs to and at somethings she doesn't, just so she doesn't have to talk. She just hopes that they don't see that learning to live again is slowly killing her inside, because she is certain that nothing is going to go right, that nothing will ever work for her. She sits there on the double date and she doesn't say a word, afraid of making an ass of herself. He brings her back to her house and they are on the front porch. He whispers that he had a good time and wants to know if he can see her again. And maybe, just maybe, she will, for she sees in him a pain similar to her own, a pain that reflects in his eyes, saying that he was learning to live again to. That's what she is doing now.