Page 26 of Falling Again

I open my mouth to retort, but close it, leaving her outside and going to grab the dinner I prepared. I suppose I didn’t ask her, but I told her I wanted to surprise her. She could have opposed if she had another idea. Hopefully she will relax, I think, and we can have a romantic evening.

I return, and she’s typing something on her phone. She puts it away as soon as I emerge. I place the plates down in front of each seat at the patio dining table and lay out the crème brûlée.

“Shouldn’t you keep that refrigerated?” she asks, pointing to the dessert.

“Yeah, I wanted to show you. I made crème brûlée.”

“I see that,” she says.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“I go all out on this to try to make it romantic. I wanted to recreate something I’ve seen you dream about, yet you’ve been giving me short answers and texting the whole time. Who is more important than me right now?” There. I let it all out.

“Tyler, I don’t like the way you are talking to me,” she says, standing up. “Take me home.”

“No, I want to talk it out—talk to me, Rachel.”

“I have nothing to say. You are being rude and disrespectful.” She turns and walks inside, leaving me alone and confused about what just happened.

I pull up in front of her house, and she goes to get out, but I put my hand on her leg.

“Tyler, don’t touch me!” she shrieks.

“Hey, what is up? Did I upset you? I’m sorry. I should’ve double-checked you were okay with a surprise for our anniversary. I thought you’d like it. Can you just talk to me? What’s going on in your head right now?”

She sits back in the seat and exhales. “I-I am dating someone else,” she admits.

Now, I sit back in my chair and stare ahead at nothing in particular. “What do you mean, dating? Like currently? While we are together?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like this”—she waves her hand between her and me— “is anything serious.”

I breathe in and out, trying to calm down and not show too much emotion. I suddenly can’t trust this person I’ve been so intimate with for so long. “Can you get out of my car?” I ask her.

“This is your mom’s car.”

“Get. Out,” I say, gripping the steering wheel with my hands. She looks over at me and gets out without saying another word.

A medley of emotions runs through me. I feel like screaming and crying. I drive through town and decide to park near Main Street, hoping to run into someone I know. I would rather be anywhere than go back to the house, to the cold plates of filet mignon and crumbled rose petals. I walk toward the restaurant where my parents were having dinner, hoping to catch up with them before they went to the movie. They see me before I do and shout my name. Their smiles fade as I approach them.

“It’s over,” I say, and my mom pulls me into a tight hug. I feel my dad’s firm grasp on my shoulder as he draws us both into his arms.

“Every roadblock is a stepping stone to something greater,” my mom says to me. I don’t know how but she always knows what to say. “It’s going to hurt like hell for a little while, though,” she continues, squeezing me tighter. I wait for my dad to comment on how he's never liked Rachel or how she’s always been sour to them. Warm and friendly were not among her best traits. Our differences in upbringing led to how she was around my folks. But my dad doesn’t say anything. Just pats me on the back before releasing his grasp.

“All right, you and your mom go see the movie. I’ll head home and clean up.” I pull away from my mom and look at my dad.

“Hey, you can’t weasel out!” my mom pokes his chest.

He raises his hands, “We already bought tickets. We can’t add another seat—it’s sold out, and the theater has changed to assigned seating. Things are changing around here. I can barely keep up!”

My mom squints at him, and despite their differences in height, my mom could take him down with one glance. But she smiles softly instead.

“All right, Ty, let’s go watch”—my mom looks at her tickets— “Transformers: The Sequel.”

“Did you watch the first one?” I ask, looking at them both, and they shake their heads in response. “Well, I’m sure we can figure out what’s happening,” I laugh.

“I wanted to watch a romance movie, but your dad wanted some action. All these superhero movies are basically romances with punching. So, we compromised,” my mom says, linking her arm around mine as we walk down the brick-lined street toward the theater.