"I know that you choose where you want to be.
Choose the heart of gold and not the one for free.
Choose the heart of the past, belonging not to me.
But no matter how hard I try,
I can't seem to win this fight.
I seem to be further behind
Than I was when I met you."
~Copper Wimmin, "Bleeding Rivers"

September 1998

I still have the dress, you know.

When I moved in with Danny, not long after you left (and I did it because I didn't know what else to do…you were supposed to save me from that, and you didn't. It was the only thing left I could think of to do), and I started unpacking my clothes, I came across it and couldn't help but hesitate. I felt the fabric rustling between my fingers, and the memory of our first time speeding around my mind. The way you slipped the straps off my shoulders. The way your lips felt against my stomach. The way I bent to your touch. At that moment, I wanted that more than anything else and I despised you for leaving because I would no longer be able to get it.

Danny eventually found me standing at the closet he cleared out for me, the dress in my hands and a blank stare in my eyes. He took the dress out of my grasp, held it up in confusion. "When did you get this?" he asked. The question had no suspicion or bitter feelings in it whatsoever, but I couldn't help but feel absolutely and ruthlessly interrogated. "I've never seen you wear it before. It's pretty."

I jerked back into reality, looked at him standing next to me. "I, uh…I don't remember, actually." It was a horrible attempt, my voice faltered, but he seemed to take it. "I've had it for a while, though. I just haven't really had a lot of opportunities to wear it."

"Well, maybe I'll just have to make an opportunity for you to wear it. Maybe take you out somewhere more upscale. I bet you look gorgeous in this." He handed the dress back to me and I put it on a hanger, and hid it in the darkest corner of the closet, for fear of perpetual flashbacks every time I try to plan an outfit.

I never wore the dress for him. I haven't worn the dress since that night.

I remember the morning after that night, how we shared a cigarette as you told me about your heartbreaking past. That woman who took advantage of you…I think you said her name was Delia, something gorgeous and unusual like that. And you told me about how she took you in, and you fell in love, and she left you. You were so afraid that you would only repeat those actions with me. That you were a fool for believing her. I told you that we weren't going to be like that, and I fully believed that. And you seemed to believe it too.

But now here I am. I met you already behind in the race. And I became your lover—even without titles, we both knew what we were to each other—feeling like I was starting to move forward. But you left. I'm here now without you. And I feel further behind than I was before I ever saw you in that dive bar.

Now who's the fool?

All of this is racing through my mind as I watched you from across the office this morning, the phone receiver nestled between your ear and your shoulder as you painted your nails. I didn't want to listen, but there was nowhere else for me to go. I heard you make a reservation for two at the restaurant. The restaurant. The one you took me to when I asked you to show me a piece of your life, what it was like to live in your world. You probably don't remember ever taking me, but I sure as hell do. You could have waited until I left for lunch. You could have waited until you thought I wasn't in the room. But you picked up the phone with me sitting at my desk, made some condescending small talk to whoever answered on the other end, and set up a little date night for you and your husband.

The silence after you hung up the phone was suffocating, but I didn't know how to break it at first. I wanted to avoid any mention of your husband, the restaurant, any of it. But I knew that there wasn't any way around it.

"Night out with Stan?" I asked. It wasn't even a full sentence; I knew I wouldn't be capable of that. You picked the heart of gold, the one that came with money as well as a price. And I still can't handle it.

"Yeah," you replied with a hint of…was that sheepishness? "He wanted to go out to this restaurant, so I thought I would surprise him." You paused for a moment. "Things have been a little rocky, lately…not too bad, but still not like it normally is." And how is it normally, Karen? You complained about your relationship with him throughout our time together. And yet here you are, planning some romantic dinner for him. "I thought this might be something to help us get back on track."

"I'm sorry to hear about that," I said. But I couldn't figure out how much of that was actually true.

All of this was marinating in my mind as I made my way back to Will's; he was so generous as to let me stay with him. I couldn't handle Danny (again) and he offered me the spare bedroom. Rob and Ellen came over for a game night tonight. I'm so in awe of them. They've broken up and gotten back together more times than I can count, and yet there's still an immense amount of love there, and you know that they're going to be okay. I wish I could be like them. But I can't. And I knew that. It just took me until now to realize it.

I have to end things with Danny. And I have to do it now.

I waited until Rob and Ellen left. And as I was getting ready to leave, Will stopped me. "Sweetie," he called as I opened the front door. There has always been something soothing about Will; maybe that's what drew me to him in the first place, why I wanted to be his girlfriend so badly in college, why I wanted to keep him in my life even after he broke my heart. I feel like he's the level-headed one in the friendship. Always there to make sure I know what I'm doing. "Are you sure about this?"

I knew he was never a big fan of Danny. But he knew there was something about him I couldn't resist. And he supported it anyway. "I have to do this, Will. The time away from that apartment cleared my head. It put everything in perspective. It's going to be okay."

And I was out the door, taking my fate in my own hands.

Danny looked shocked when he opened the door to find me on the other side. I hadn't exactly called ahead to let him know I was coming over. I didn't want to give myself more time to back out of it, so I went straight for the subway towards his—is it bad that after three years, I can't even say our?—apartment. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." I really don't. "Can I come in? We need to talk about something."

"Gracie, it's your apartment too. You don't need to ask to come in. And I was actually going to call you to see if we could meet somewhere. There's something I want to talk to you about, too."

"You go first," I told him. I looked around the apartment for a moment in complete amazement. All my stuff was here, everything I would need to consider calling a place home, but these rooms, this space, felt like anything but. I don't know how to explain it. On the surface, I called it home for nearly three years. But it was a lie. I knew exactly what I wanted home to feel like, and this wasn't it.

What it felt to be in your arms with your kiss still on my skin. That's what home is supposed to feel like.

Danny pulled a small box out of his back pocket, opened it up and took a peek inside. It looked a lot like…oh god. He turned it towards me. It looks nothing like the one that was on your finger when I met you. Then again, I've never known the money Stan has before I met you. "I was trying to figure out," he started, "when I wanted to do this and how I wanted to do this. And I was so close to doing it before you went to stay with Will. I know now that this is what I want more than anything else. The time away from you made me realize how much I miss you when you're gone. And I don't want you to be gone anymore. So it doesn't matter when I wanted to do this and how. What matters is that you say yes." He got down on one knee. God help me, he's down on one knee. "Grace, will you marry me?"

I looked into his eyes, so filled with hope and light towards the future he wanted us to build together, and all that I did to prepare myself to let him down had gone out the window. Do you remember when you were talking about him at the restaurant? I doubt it. You wanted me to name something sweet he had done for me, and at that time, I couldn't think of any recent examples.

If you acknowledged our past, if you remembered who I was, and if you still wanted an example, I would give you this. But it still doesn't mean that he doesn't make me hurt.

"Yes." It was meek, quiet, and half-hearted, but it was there. How could I say no, after that speech? How could I let him down after he had bared more of his soul than he ever had before? There was no way I could punish him for that. So in turn, I only punish myself by accepting. He took me in his arms, pressed his lips against mine and slipped the ring on my finger. I smiled for him, but he didn't seem to see through it.

"Will you stay the night with me?"

It was such a simple request. And so much smaller than the one he just asked for. There was no use in denying him now; I had already agreed to make the biggest commitment I could possibly make to him. And as much as I wanted to take it back, I knew I never could.

Normal people are supposed to be happy. Normal people are supposed to be calling their parents with the news. Normal people pop champagne and celebrate the prospect of a new beginning.

All I can think of is you, and wondering if you felt this wrong when you said yes to Stan.

All I can think of is you, and the fact that with one simple word, I pushed myself so much further behind than I was when I first met you.