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Authors: Richard Dubois
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consolation prize was not you—it was Patrick. When it looked like I had lost you forever I decided to salvage what I could, to see if out of the wreckage I could build something with Patrick. You were the one I wanted; Patrick was the one I was prepared to settle for. I tested him to see if his interest in me went beyond sex. You are right. I was just another trophy in his case. Once I realized that, it was fully and completely over between Patrick and me. I ceased all contact. Around this time, you started talking to me again. Just to hear your voice filled me with so much hope that I could reunite with the one man who made me truly happy. I was—and I am—prepared to do anything to win you back, even if it meant flying out to an island in the middle of nowhere just to spend time alone with you.”
I stare at her, uncertain what to say. She looks so earnest.
She takes my hand with both of hers and presses it to her heart. “I know I’ve lost your trust and you have no reason to believe me, but everything I just told you is true. Something horrible has happened between us, and it is all my fault, but I still believe we can move on from this.”
I pull my hand back and face the sea. It is so vast and empty. If only I could take all the anger, all the hurt I feel and throw it into that bottomless depth. How light I would feel—like being reborn.
She rests a hand on my shoulder. “It kills me to see the pain on your face and know that I put it there. Nothing I do seems to help. I don’t understand what I am doing here. Being with me only makes you miserable.”
“And being without you makes me miserable,” my voice is raw. “I can’t win, either way.”
“Phillip, let me ask you something,” she turns me around so that we are face to face. “I need to know this or else there’s no point in hurting ourselves any further. Do you still love me?”
I look into her eyes—those beautiful, beseeching eyes—and feel my heart disintegrating. The faith I’ve lost in Gwen cannot explain the intensity of the pain that sears my soul. If my agony only involved Gwen’s lies, then I would gladly believe the lies, turn a blind eye, and try as much as possible to believe in the illusion that was us. No, I realize that Gwen’s infidelity cost me two people: the woman I loved and the man I loved to be when I was with her.
“Phillip, please tell me. Do you still love me?”
“No,” I rasp.
A rush of emotions plays across her face—first surprise, followed by sadness, like a candle sputtering out. I start to speak, to say something else—maybe even to take back what I just said, but in that instant, all the lights in the resort go out, plunging us into total darkness.
Chapter Five
“Gwen?”
“I’m right here.”
“I can’t see a damn thing,” I look around waiting for my eyes to adjust to the sudden absence of light. “We must have lost electricity.”
The half moon barely sheds enough light to see three feet in any direction. I hear the waves crashing nearby, and feel the sea spray on my face, but I cannot see the ocean at all.
“The power outage must be affecting the other resort,” Gwen says. “The lights on the resort across the bay are out, too.”
I look to where I believe the other resort to be. In the impenetrable black, it is difficult to be certain. Gwen is correct; no lights twinkle back to us from across the bay.
“A power line may be down,” I suggest. “Let’s head back to the restaurant.”
We say nothing as we trod towards the restaurant. Surrounded in endless black, walking in solemn silence, I wonder if this is what death is like. A Greek myth springs to mind—that of Orpheus descending into Hades. Orpheus, stricken with grief over the death of his young wife, journeys to the realm of the dead to retrieve her soul. He sings a song of such beauty that the lords of the underworld permit him to take his wife’s soul back to the land of the living on the condition that he
I stare at her, uncertain what to say. She looks so earnest.
She takes my hand with both of hers and presses it to her heart. “I know I’ve lost your trust and you have no reason to believe me, but everything I just told you is true. Something horrible has happened between us, and it is all my fault, but I still believe we can move on from this.”
I pull my hand back and face the sea. It is so vast and empty. If only I could take all the anger, all the hurt I feel and throw it into that bottomless depth. How light I would feel—like being reborn.
She rests a hand on my shoulder. “It kills me to see the pain on your face and know that I put it there. Nothing I do seems to help. I don’t understand what I am doing here. Being with me only makes you miserable.”
“And being without you makes me miserable,” my voice is raw. “I can’t win, either way.”
“Phillip, let me ask you something,” she turns me around so that we are face to face. “I need to know this or else there’s no point in hurting ourselves any further. Do you still love me?”
I look into her eyes—those beautiful, beseeching eyes—and feel my heart disintegrating. The faith I’ve lost in Gwen cannot explain the intensity of the pain that sears my soul. If my agony only involved Gwen’s lies, then I would gladly believe the lies, turn a blind eye, and try as much as possible to believe in the illusion that was us. No, I realize that Gwen’s infidelity cost me two people: the woman I loved and the man I loved to be when I was with her.
“Phillip, please tell me. Do you still love me?”
“No,” I rasp.
A rush of emotions plays across her face—first surprise, followed by sadness, like a candle sputtering out. I start to speak, to say something else—maybe even to take back what I just said, but in that instant, all the lights in the resort go out, plunging us into total darkness.
Chapter Five
“Gwen?”
“I’m right here.”
“I can’t see a damn thing,” I look around waiting for my eyes to adjust to the sudden absence of light. “We must have lost electricity.”
The half moon barely sheds enough light to see three feet in any direction. I hear the waves crashing nearby, and feel the sea spray on my face, but I cannot see the ocean at all.
“The power outage must be affecting the other resort,” Gwen says. “The lights on the resort across the bay are out, too.”
I look to where I believe the other resort to be. In the impenetrable black, it is difficult to be certain. Gwen is correct; no lights twinkle back to us from across the bay.
“A power line may be down,” I suggest. “Let’s head back to the restaurant.”
We say nothing as we trod towards the restaurant. Surrounded in endless black, walking in solemn silence, I wonder if this is what death is like. A Greek myth springs to mind—that of Orpheus descending into Hades. Orpheus, stricken with grief over the death of his young wife, journeys to the realm of the dead to retrieve her soul. He sings a song of such beauty that the lords of the underworld permit him to take his wife’s soul back to the land of the living on the condition that he
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