A Prior Engagement (3 page)

He watched as his dad took his mother’s hand above the table and kissed it, quiet appreciation for the dinner, but William suspected it was more than just thanks for the food. William had seen his father do this a million times growing up, but now, as he really opened his eyes to the bond they shared, he noticed his mom’s smile showed all of the love she held for his dad, which was the same kind of love that William also hoped to find one day. He wanted a love so strong that it withstood the years, the hardships, and thrived beyond the honeymoon. He wanted what his parents share—laughter, support, and devotion.

After dinner, they watched pre-season baseball before William’s dad drove him to catch one of the last ferries back to the city. He was a true New Yorker in every sense and had never felt shame for being from Staten Island. He was proud of his upbringing. The city was his playground though, and he often drew literary inspiration when he walked the darkened streets.

Something he realized once he moved from home is that he would never trade lives with the Park Avenue crowd. He thought it was sad they would never understand New York the way he did. Some had never had a hotdog from a vendor down in Battery Park while watching the Statue of Liberty’s lights turn on at sunset. Many have never ridden the ferry over to Staten Island to watch minor league baseball at its finest. In his opinion, they lived on the glossy surface while he lived in the belly. He experienced everything life had to offer here and loved it.

When he entered his second floor studio apartment, he flicked on the small lamp in the corner. It wasn’t a great reading lamp, but it would do and was comforting because his parents had bought it for him.

He readied for bed, and then climbed under his cotton sheets, pulling them up to his stomach. He laid on his back, resting his head on his hands and reflected on his day, a nighttime routine. As he lay there, he thought back to the girl at the coffee shop, letting his mind wander to what her story might be. For some reason, his instincts told him there was more to come with her, and he smiled at the hopeful thought before falling asleep.

Uptown, with all the expectations Everleigh’s parents had of raising a well-respected young woman, their rules were lax when it came to her fiancé. They adored Tom and encouraged the relationship before Everleigh had reached dating age. At twenty-two years of age, she spent the night at his place on a regular basis with their approval.

Twenty-seven blocks away from William’s small apartment, Tom was tipsy and wooing his girlfriend with kisses he knew she liked, hoping to get her in the mood. Little did he know, Everleigh had already given up the notion of resistance when the first kiss landed on her neck. She never took these moments for granted, giving in with hopes that tomorrow would bring the change she desired.

She disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up and slip into a sheer pink nightie. She chose pink knowing his mood. Tonight did not warrant passionate red and his kisses were stronger than a white negligee would justify. She settled on the pink, which was appropriately in the middle of the two, just as his mood reflected.

Tom liked her lingerie color choice, which allowed him a figurative pat on the back.
Maybe she had learned more than he gave her credit for
, he thought while appreciating her body.

Just like the pink nightie, they made love not passionately and not too gently either, but somewhere between the two before falling asleep.

The next morning, Everleigh was reading the Arts section of the paper. She set it down as soon as Tom walked into the kitchen already showered, shaved, and dressed for work.

He voiced a disappointed grunt before pouring his own coffee. She had gotten caught up reading about a rare book collection on display at the public library downtown and had forgotten to bring his coffee to him, which explained the grunt.

She didn’t relax when she stayed at Tom’s apartment because she had to try and decipher his mood. She couldn’t count on any consistency from day-to-day, which made it emotionally draining to her. “Good morning,” she said, then took a quick sip of her coffee while gauging his reaction. “I apologize for not bringing your coffee to you.”

“I don’t ask much, Everleigh . . .” He let his sentence linger between them unfinished. It carried more in its meaning than he would admit and she felt the guilt weighing her down.

“I won’t forget next time.”

“I hope not.” He skimmed the front page of the New York Times. The paper was wrinkled and she knew how much he hated his paper being wrinkled. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, looking not at her, but at the section of the newspaper in front of her.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before responding. “Yes.”

Thinking about their previous night, she wanted to bring sweet Tom back—the one that smiled more and the one that kissed her. Everleigh slipped off the bar stool and rubbed his shoulders as she kissed him on the cheek. He made it apparent her touch was not wanted and wriggled out of her reach.

“Don’t forget I have poker tonight.” He walked toward the door, his tone dismissive, leaving on that reminder.

Leaning forward, she gripped the counter for support, silently berating herself for letting him affect her like he did. She should be used to it by now, but after last night . . . he was an ever-changing tide that she would never be able to predict.

Taking another deep breath, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind, exhaling the breath, her anger, her disappointment, and him from her system.

“Have fun,” she said right before the door closed.

Even though it was a warm day in late April, Tom’s mood had been chilly. Looking out the window, she wanted sunshine, not rain. It was beautiful outside and she wasn’t going to let him ruin the day. It was as if the clouds of her heart had cleared and the sun broke through, lighting her from within.

She went into her small corner of his large walk-in closet and pulled down a cotton sundress. She was dressing for sunshine, but also grabbed a cardigan just in case.

The chauffeur rang to let her know he was waiting to take her home and she left Tom’s place the way he liked it, tidy as if she hadn’t been there at all.

As she ran down the stairs of his building, preferring it to the elevator this morning, she got an idea.
What if she walked today?
Not for exercise, but for pleasure. She considered her options as she neared the doors leading to the waiting car.

Con
: She knew Tom would not be happy when the driver reported she walked home instead. She could already hear his lecture in her head: “It’s not of society and good breeding to be wandering the streets of New York unaccompanied and aimless in direction.” It was his fancy way of saying no to her idea.

Feeling his words heavy on her heart and not able to come up with any ‘Pros’ to justify her actions to him, she got into the car. But another daring idea started forming and a plan was hatched on the way back. For appearances, she would arrive safely home. No bad reports, no witnesses, and no judgments could be made. She smiled, but quickly tugged her lip between her teeth, stifling the smile of excitement that was dying to reveal itself.

She thanked the driver as Walter held the door wide open for her. Okay, there was one witness she hadn’t counted on—
Walter
. She walked into the lobby and waited at his desk for him to re-enter and sit down. “Walter, I was wondering if I could possibly ask a favor of you?” She wasn’t above using a little harmless charm to get her way. She couldn’t take her bag up to her family’s apartment because her mother would be home and would want to spend time together, which would keep her from leaving. She couldn’t risk it if she wanted to accomplish her day’s mission.

“Yes, ma’am, of course.”

“I want to see an exhibit downtown and was hoping I could store my bag behind your desk?”

He didn’t question her though it would have been acceptable. “No problem,” he replied as he took the overnight bag from her and hid it behind his desk. “It will be here when you return.”

“I shouldn’t be long.” She reached for the door not wanting to bother him with the task, but stopped before she left, and said, “Thank you, Walter.”

She rushed into the sunlight of the morning feeling whimsical. She used to be more carefree, but she tended to avoid any thoughts of her girlish dreams of how she envisioned her future. Those memories would make her sad and it was too pretty of a day to be sad.

Feeling energized, fifteen blocks passed under her feet faster than she thought possible and she wasn’t the least bit tired. She decided right there on the steps of the public library that she would start walking more. This city had too much to offer to only see it through the tinted glaze of a car window, no matter how nice the car window was.

The library was majestic and still one of her favorite places in all of New York City. She climbed halfway up the stairs before stopping to admire Patience and Fortitude, the marble gargoyle lions that guarded the library’s main entrance, before carrying on.

The doors were already open, displaying the information for the rare book collection. She made her way to the Genealogy Room, by far the most beautiful room in the entire library, and stopped to take a deep breath. She could smell the age of the books and the wisdom this place long held. She exhaled, reveling in the release of the tension she carried with her these days.

There weren’t many people here to see the exhibit, which allowed Everleigh the chance to examine each book without interference. At one point her heart raced as the connection to her life began feeling too heavy to face on a seemingly nice day. The ugly truth was the books were locked away in the display case, secure from the world, but still on display for everyone to see and inspect. She shifted realizing the books mimicked her own life more than she liked.

Often told how beautiful, poised, and lucky she was, Everleigh would trade it all for a life outside the confines of her fated existence. She would be nothing more than someone’s prized wife and only allowed to be a shadow of what she once was. Her heart slowed as she looked up from the books and gulped down any hope that had previously existed this morning when she tried to spread her wings by coming here.

Fifteen minutes later, she had already analyzed the five books in Homer’s Iliad in the glass case before she moved to the next lot, not noticing someone next to her until she bumped right into him. Looking up, she apologized, but was surprised by the encounter. “Hello again,” she said, keeping her voice respectful of the environment.

William looked at her, his attention to the books forgotten, and he smiled. “Hello again, yourself.”

Even with the pause between them lengthening, neither one spoke too soon. They glanced to the books in front of them and then to the ones in front of the other. “After you,” he said, swinging his arm in front of his body. William took a step backward allowing her to cross in front of him.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” She giggled. Wanting to talk to him, but not sure what to say, she kept her eyes on the books, and whispered, “It’s a great collection.” Taking another step to her left, further away from him, she continued to view the books and break her connection with him.

His mind went into overdrive trying to come up with any reason to keep her there or to justify him moving along with her, but she knew he’d already seen the books she hadn’t and vice versa. He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s great.”

Without his knowledge, she stole one last peek at him before moving to her left again.

By the time she finished viewing the collection of ancient poems, she looked around to see where he
was, but found he had already gone. Leaving the library content in her mission, but confused by her lingering thoughts of him,
she was
reminded once again that she had no friends with her same interests. She did
have
friends, lots of friends and even more acquaintances. But her friends were of society, had finished their schooling, were married off, and had entered the committee game. They were busy chairing this committee or that committee, registering future children on the most premiere of preschool lists, and planning futures full of private Pilates lessons and cooking classes that would never be utilized beyond the lesson.

Everleigh knew her fate had been mapped out long before she even comprehended she had other options, and sadly, had accepted her reality.

She always felt her English degree would allow her to excuse her escape into books with dreams of one day working in publishing. She dreamed of discovering a hidden gem of a writer who somehow slipped through the fingers of major players in the industry.

But these were dreams she had during the daytime hours. She reserved her nighttime hours for the fantasies of the books she relied on for comfort—knights in shining armor, angst-ridden heroes who found their soul mates and the forbidden love that withstood all else in the end—even death. She never spoke of these dreams to anyone. Especially not Tom, who because of his privileged upbringing, believed his love
was
the ultimate gift.

She rolled her eyes thinking of his arrogance then brushed it off, accepting he would never change. She was resolved to the life she was committed to, like it or not.

She left the library deflated, reminded of her obligations and the promises she made as a teenager. But as she walked out of the Beaux-Arts building, the sun was still shining and it instantly brightened her mood.