The bright sun burned her eyes
The bright sun burned her eyes. After hiding herself in the shadows for so long, the brightness hurt. The warm breeze seemed like fire, gently licking her too pale skin. It felt good to finally feel something again, so she remained in the sun, soaking up the heat and the light, content to relax on her sun-lounger and enjoy not being at work.
She had told her mother how she had run into Logan, careful not to tell her everything that happened between them, and her mother had been proud that her daughter had finally begun to let him go. Rory knew how much her heartbreak had been hurting her family, Loralei in particular, and this was a hopeful sign that things were going to start getting better. Her mother suggested that she take some time off work, go on a vacation to straighten out her thoughts. And she had done exactly that. She had found the sunniest, most luxurious island she could and booked her trip immediately.
And now she was there on the beach, cocktail in one hand and novel in the other. She was determined to sit where she was, in the sun, until she was able to feel a bit more like herself. The sound of the ocean, and the warm salty air was already doing its part to lift a little of the burden that she carried.
She looked up from her book, as somebody sat down on the lounger nearest her. It was a woman, about the same age as her, maybe a little older. She was beautiful, in a simple way, with sandy blonde hair tucked under a wide brimmed hat. The woman flashed a kind smile to her as she settled in.
"First time on the island?" the woman asked, pulling out some sun tan lotion from her bag.
"Yes, actually. I had some vacation time built up, and wanted somewhere sunny and warm to spend it. What about you? Been here before?" Rory wasn't sure why she felt the need to continue talking to the woman. There was something about her, so open and friendly.
"I've been here once before. It was so beautiful that I decided to treat my husband and bring him here for our honeymoon. I'm Caroline, by the way." The woman looked so in love when she mentioned her husband.
"Rory. So, you're here on your honeymoon? Congratulations." Rory couldn't help but feel a little sad at the fact that she was on her vacation alone.
"Thank you! I can't believe that I get to spend the rest of my life with the man of my dreams. There's nothing like it." The woman was glowing with pride. "Oh, here he comes now." She smiled and waved. Rory looked up to see her companion's new husband, and she felt her heart turn to ice, despite the blazing sun.
It was Logan.
In a cruel twist of fate, on this island thousands of miles from home, the woman who chose to sit next to her, was the new Mrs Logan Huntzberger, a title that Rory was now never going to have herself. She watch Logan track across the sand, looking exactly the same as when she last saw him, tired and run down. And she knew the exact second that he realised who his wife was sitting with.
"Rory? What are you doing here?" She wasn't sure who looked more shocked, Logan or the new Mrs Huntzberger.
"You two know each other?" Caroline looked from Rory to Logan, both of whom were avoiding looking directly at each other.
"Yeah, we worked on the paper at Yale together," Logan said after a prolonged pause, as if he were searching for words that could explain their connection. Rory couldn't speak. She felt as if her throat was swollen shut. The way Caroline was looking at them, Rory knew that Logan hadn't mentioned her to his new wife.
"Well, I'm late for meeting someone. It was lovely to meet you, Caroline." Rory tried to smile at her. "Logan."
"Rory." His voice sounded as fake as her own, but Caroline didn't seem to notice.
Rory grabbed her belongings, and hurried off the beach, feeling as if she was burning up in flames, the sun suddenly too hot, painfully beating down on her. She needed to reach the hotel building, her cold room, the dark as the answer for her grief. She made it back to her suite without falling apart, and she unlocked the door in haste rushing to pull the blinds closed even before the door was able to click shut.
Having blocked out the searing light, she crossed to the mini-bar and pulled out the vodka, ripping off the cap and taking one, two, three deep pulls from the neck before placing it heavily on the counter and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stood in the dark, breathing heavily, the lid from the vodka still gripped in her hand. She felt betrayed. She had just been beginning to piece her life together again, her life without him, and then there he was. It was as if she was being punished. Every time she had tried to forget him and move on, and he would appear again.
Her mind blank, and yet churning at the same time, she reached for a tall glass, and after adding a few cubes of ice from the bucket provided at the bar, she proceeded to fill her glass to the top with the clear spirit. Picking up the glass, she moved to sit in the armchair next to the curtained window, placing the glass on the small side table. She curled her legs up onto the chair, and proceeded to fall apart. Her world was reduced to that small hotel room, and yet it didn't seem to be large enough to hold all her pain.
She wasn't sure how long she sat in that chair, but after a while she stood and started to get changed out of her beachwear, pulling on the thick robe that the hotel had thoughtfully provided. Her hair was a tangled mess, but she couldn't be bothered to try and fix it. She moved back to pick up her glass, condensation gathering on the outside of the glass, leaving a moist ring behind on the table. She took a long swallow, feeling the burning in her throat start to give way to the peaceful oblivion she craved for.
There was a quiet knock on the door. She knew immediately who it was, almost feeling his presence seeping into the room.
She opened the door a crack, trying not to let any light slip unwanted into her dark sanctuary. He looked at her through the gap, his face stony, trying not to let his emotions escape him.
"Please." One word and she knew he felt as she did, ripped apart and pushed back together in the wrong order over and over again. She opened the door a touch wider and then retreated deeper into the darkness.
They didn't look at each other, they didn't dare. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and she pulled the edges of her robe together, feeling all of sudden painfully exposed.
"I'm sorry." His voice was flat, harsh even
"I know."
"I didn't…"
"I know," she interrupted, not wanting to hear what he had to say. She was concentrating on not falling apart, not allowing him to know just how much she was hurting. "She loves you very much."
"She's not you." Those were the three words that broke Rory. All the pain, the grief she was feeling vanished, and all that was left was intense, burning rage. The glass that she was holding flew from her hand, shattering on the wall behind him in an explosion of glass and alcohol. He didn't flinch, just continued looking resolutely at the floor.
"Why are you here?" She was yelling now, unable to control herself. "Why do you keep doing this? You're here with your WIFE, who loves you. Why do you keep doing this?" His silence was infuriating, only serving to enrage her more. Two steps and she was standing in front of him. "You can't keep doing this. You can't keep showing up and saying things like that to me. You have NO RIGHT. You're on your HONEYMOON. You chose to move one with some one else, you can't keep coming here and saying things like that. It isn't FAIR!"
Her fist flew out and struck him on the shoulder, hard. The physical contact shocked her out of her rage, and she stepped back, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. He made no sound, but turned his face away from the floor to look at her. She could feel herself starting to come apart, and she knew that he couldn't be there when it happened.
"Get out." Her voice was no louder than a whisper, a plea.
He took a half step toward her, but stopped when she shrank away from the movement.
"Rory…" His voice was just as soft, but with an edge of desperation. She turned away.
"Just go."
He let out a breath, and after what seemed like an eternity to her, he turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him. As the door clicked shut, she rushed over and turned the lock, sliding the security chain into place. And then, hand still on the door, she fell apart.
Sobs choked their way out of her and her legs lost their strength, sending her sliding down the wall to the floor. There was something blocking the light under the door, and she knew that he was still there, standing outside the door, listening to her fall apart. She could feel his pull through the door, feel his pain just as clearly as her own. But he stayed on his side, and she stayed on hers. And then she heard his feet scuff on the carpet outside as he started to walk away. And his voice, though soft, drifted under the door as he left her behind.
"Goodbye Rory."
