The Magic Scarf
Forgiveness and a pair of kick-ass boots
The phone rang as she fumbled with the key, trying to beat the answering machine.
She knew she’d lost the race when she heard her roommate’s voice say, “Please leave a message,” so she slowed down and took her time, listening to the caller.
“Hi, it’s me,” said a familiar deep voice, and her heart reacted with a yearning that she thought she’d left behind. It took all her willpower to stay where she was and not run to pick up his call.
‘Be strong. Let him think you aren’t here,’ she thought.
When she realized how much she wanted to run to the phone, she was disgusted with herself.
“Unbelievable. You still want to run to him when he beckons. It’s been months, and you’re still right there.”
Deliberately, she set down her purse and waited. A little part of her was curious to hear what he had to say.
“I wanted to talk to you. I’m still in town. Can we get together? Maybe for a coffee? I’m buying.” There was a pause as he waited. Maybe he somehow knew she was listening. Should she pick up?
“Don’t be so stupid,” she admonished. “Of course, he doesn’t know.”
“I’m going to be at the diner tomorrow at 10. It’s Saturday, so I was hoping you might be able to meet. I think we need to talk.” There was another pause, and he said, “Ok, well, I hope to see you there.”
It was inevitable. She had to see him.
But she knew she would have to be careful. He knew her so well, and he’d persuaded her in the past.
Sometimes you love a person just because they feel like home but it’s not always where you belong. Spending time together could fool you into thinking you had things in common.
When they first met, he was enthralled. He watched everything she did and noticed all the little things. How she took her coffee, the way she always needed to wind a certain scarf around her neck before she went out into the world. He used to tease her about it.
He called it her magic scarf.
One night he told her he had to find a new place to live. His roommate was moving out of town to find work. They had both been laid off and were struggling to make rent.
“What about us?” he said. “Two can live cheaper than one.” She loved the way he had a tiny dimple on the corner of his mouth when he was being persuasive.
“Such a romantic,” she teased. And found herself inviting him to move in.
It was great at first. She was happy when she came home from work to find he’d made them dinner. He was so respectful, pulling out her chair as she sat at the table, serving her a glass of wine.
“I could get used to this,” she thought, sinking into his grey-green eyes.
He took care of them both. No worries that he’d had a bit of a hard time finding a job. Something would come up, they reassured each other.
Then there was the day the scarf went missing from their closet. And the night a couple of weeks later at the local pub, where she noticed their waitress smiling down at him, the scarf wound around her neck.
That night she stuffed his clothes into garbage bags and dumped them on the street.
She showed up late on purpose.
No way was she going to be the one sitting there alone, waiting for him to show up. He’d either be there or he wouldn’t, and then she could leave.
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