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Fate and Serendipity

The Universe is Watching

By Amy WillardPublished 3 years ago 9 min read
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Photo credit: https://www.pexels.com/@skylar-kang

Carrie stomped out of the apartment. It had been snowing for 3 days straight and the city had been essentially shut down. Which meant they were shut in. Now, on the 4th day, the skies had cleared, and she could get some damn air.

Tom and Carrie met through a cheesy dating app a couple of years earlier. It was instant for her, head over heels. Done. She was off the market forever. She thought Tom felt the same way, maybe not as immediate as her, but when they were together it was so natural and fun it seemed preordained. She didn’t push. She’d been pressed herself in previous relationships and was well aware of how that made her feel. She wanted things to progress organically and be allowed to grow and flourish at its own pace. Carrie was confident that her feelings would be the bridge to love…finally.

But Tom had this baffling habit of vanishing for days and weeks at a time. He and Carrie would go out to dinner, or go on skiing weekends, do day hikes. They would spend evenings at his place or hers playing board games or listening to music. He even brought his two kids along once in a while. Then, despite all efforts to text or call or email him…nothing, *poof*. He had a very involved job, and was often overwhelmed with it. And, of course, he’d told her about his ex-wife and her insane shenanigans. She could understand his disappearances to a degree. He was busy.

Then, less than a year after they met, she and a friend were in a terrible car accident in the friend’s car and she had shattered her left leg. It required surgery and crutches and extensive rehab. She was on a government funded healthcare plan, thankfully, but it put her out of work since she was a bartender. Unemployment wasn’t going to do much since most of her income was in tips. She didn’t even bother to file.

While she had other friends who saw to her initial care, Tom floated in a little later. He had visited her in the hospital of course, but being too doped up on pain killers, they didn’t really have long engrossing conversations. When she was released to go home, he was there. He stayed with her for hours while they watched movies and ate popcorn. He helped her to the bathroom. He made dinner for her and brought take-out. Then he would tuck her into bed, and he would go home so, “she could rest”. Even that, she rationalized, made sense. Still in a fair bit of pain, she squirmed a lot during sleep and of course, “other things” were off the table.

The healing process had been slow, nonetheless she made good headway being young and healthy. Tom continued his pattern of on-again, off-again appearances. With so much time on her hands, she’d begun to think he was just coddling her because she had had this awful thing happen and he didn’t want to be a jerk. But he always managed to swoop in just in the nick of time with his heart-melting lop-sided grin and flowers and her fears evaporated.

Tom had always been kind. More so than anyone Carrie had ever dated. He didn’t like to argue or fight saying he’d had enough of that with his ex. She also was averse having grown up with alcoholic parents and their constant battles. He was tall and fit, had a deep and soothing voice, and easy demeanor. He was chivalrous, always paid for everything, and even bought her groceries on occasion. She knew he struggled with money somewhat because of the horrific stories about his divorce, however he never complained. His children were delightful and funny, and she thought they all fit together like milk and cookies.

Once she was finally allowed to drive again, she couldn’t because her car was a stick-shift, and she couldn’t clutch. Without a moment’s hesitation, Tom traded his BMW for her little Mazda. Awed by this kindness, she was then convinced he had reconciled his feelings for her. Over the moon, she waited patiently for the “moment” he would tell her so.

About a year after her accident, a neighbor and friend down the street invited her for a “girl’s weekend”, all expenses paid, in Taos, New Mexico. Finances were super tight, so she hadn’t really been out of the house for a long time. She jumped at the offer.

Carrie hadn’t known this neighbor long, but she was friendly and they both had common interests. She wouldn’t know the rest of the women, but that was ok. She was a bartender and there was no such thing as a “stranger”. One woman had to back out of the trip at the last minute, so they wanted to fill her spot and the group thought that giving it to Carrie was a charitable idea. It would be fun!

Carrie and Gloria drove together for the 5-hour trip, chatting endlessly and expanding their friendship. Arriving on a Thursday afternoon, there were 3 days and nights ahead of them. They met the other girls at the vacation rental they had reserved, and all were impressed with the property. Introductions were made, wine was uncorked, and the long weekend had begun.

Deciding to head out to dinner, they chose a nice mid-priced place in the middle of town. They all ordered modestly, dinner was served, and more wine was had. About half-way through the meal everyone was feeling a little buzzy and Carrie caught one of the women staring at her. Good at diffusing awkward situations as a bartender, she asked if she had something on her face and swiped her napkin across her nose trying to be funny. Red-faced that she had been staring, the woman apologized and then confessed that she thought Carrie looked familiar. Having considered the same thing but dismissing it, the conversation turned to possible mutual acquaintances. A couple of the other women joined in and mental Rolodexes were spun and studied.

Then a name came up. Tom’s ex-wife. How did Carrie know her? They met when she picked up Tom’s kids one day at her house after she had been babysitting for him. It then it turned into a full-blown inquisition. How did she know Tom? How long had they been dating? Were they still seeing each other? Had they slept together?

Cornered, Carrie answered their questions, but only just, not wanting to give anything away or get Tom in trouble. But then the big bomb dropped. The woman who had to back out of the trip at the last minute was Tom’s current girlfriend and had been for several years. What were the odds?

Carrie couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, all the “vanishings” and blanks in time made sense. Despite that, she had more questions than ever.

Having blown a hole in the evening’s festivities, the women returned to the house and everyone went to bed. Gloria tried to talk to her, but Carrie was leery of all of them at that point. They were her friends, and she was the odd one out. Her sleep was troubled, at best.

The next day Carrie woke feeling like she had caught a cold and was a tad feverish. The planned activity was for a trail bike ride and she begged off wanting instead to try to process what she had learned the night before. She spent the day alone in the house crying. When the women returned that afternoon, they were gentle and offered apologies for being so meddlesome, but it felt like there was an underlying insincerity. If the shoe were on the other foot, Carrie would probably act the same way: protective of their friend. The rest of the weekend was uncomfortable, but she pasted on a smile and pretended all was well.

It wasn’t.

Fairly certain the “girlfriend” had been alerted; Carrie returned home with a lead weight in her chest. She didn’t dare bring it up with Tom because the reality was that, after over a year, there had been no declarations of love or monogamy. No agreements of exclusivity. She began to back away slowly but without giving away why, but also holding on to the hope that maybe if she wasn’t assertive, she would win in the end. Her heart was all in and it was killing her. She didn’t know what to do.

This day it had come to a head. Being stuck indoors with each other posed the opportunity to try and talk it out. She had tried to glean how he felt from him before without success. He was an artful dodger when it came to those sorts of conversations. Tom could change the subject so smoothly that she often didn't realize it until later. This time she was going to see it through.

He still evaded her questions, but she picked until she made him mad.

“What do you WANT?!” he shouted, exasperated.

“I want it all! You and me! I want the fairy tale!” He still didn’t know that she knew about his girlfriend. Or maybe he did.

“I can’t do that.” He said without further explanation.

That’s when she left the apartment. She was so hurt and angry. Instead of “walking” she was kicking her way through the tire tracks and plowed piles in the street where the snow was heaped up to get people out and back to work.

On her next punt, something more than snow flew away. She walked over to where it had landed and picked it up. A little black book. A little wet and muddy but not destroyed. It hadn’t been in the snow long. Carrie wiped it off and shuffled the book pages slowly. One page fell open easily.

An already scratched lottery ticket was positioned neatly within the book. As she looked it over, she realized it was a winning ticket…for $20,000! Quickly she flipped it over…no signature. Immediately, fantasies of all she could do with that kind of money ripped through her mind. Then she rifled through the leather bound book…no names or phone numbers at all, just a few diary-like entries that she felt awkward reading. There was no way to get this back to the owner. Surely, they had looked for it by now, but she found it in the street. If she took out an ad, everybody and their brother would claim it. It could belong to anyone. But now…it belonged to her.

Her ire melted like the snow in the sunshine. $20,000! She could pay off her credit cards and move…away from Tom. It seemed like serendipity just handed her the key.

By the time she made her way back to her apartment, Tom had left. All of his incidentals were also gone…toothbrush, clothes, shoes. It was a bittersweet day…but she had $20 grand to ease her pain and a little black book to record her new life in.

dating
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About the Creator

Amy Willard

Colorado native, 50+, writer, mother, grandmother, serial reincarnationist.

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