No Surprises

She would always start out small. Missed phone calls. Anxious antics and unabashed excuses. She knew what she was up to every step of the way, so it wasn't hard. Not for her. Everyone else had to just take it. Deal with it. She wasn't about to let anyone tell her what to do. She had her reasons. She had her ways.

The trip had been planned for months, and she was not the type to let go of this kind of thing. Without him, or anyone else for that matter, it was a lot cheaper. She chose luxury over financial security. "Treat yourself," they would coo to each other back in the day. She allowed herself a moment to be lost in the affectionate memory. There was a falling out to be addressed, but she wasn't ready just yet. She didn't feel right about things, to be completely honest. She kind of felt like the bad guy... but sometimes the bad guy is just looking out for number one. Sometimes they're not a villain. They're just being selfish. That's not wrong, though.

Right?

She started to fall down a hole and was losing her cool quickly. It didn't take long for the anxious, apprehensive thoughts to intrusively overcome the hopes for the trip. The train was comfortable and beautiful. The scenery flashed by and she stared off into the distance, trying to distract herself with the prospect of the next few days. She needed it, she kept telling herself. An escape? No. A vacation? Not even. Just a refresher course in being herself.

She needed to exist as a singularity again. People pull this nonsense all the time. Go somewhere they have always wanted to go. Do something there that they always wanted to do. Bucket lists and check marks and maps with paths and visits to the past. It's all right there, a shared memory. A passion. Some people, they are fueled by that need to be free. "Love to travel," their bios always say. No shit. Who doesn't?

Anyway... she needed a drink. It was early but that used to be their thing. It was a Sunday. Fresh mimosas in the AM. Cocktails past noon. A glass of wine with a home cooked meal. Waiting for the television to give them something to talk about. Their life together was a vision. It was... beautiful to behold, but somewhere along the way... it got cold.

She used to adore their silence. How they could be in two separate rooms, existing as two singularities but feeling that presence, the assured fact that there was also a plurality to them. It felt so real, for a time. He didn't mean to change. It came with age. It was the meds. Something had to be done. He turned into someone different. Someone distant. Someone she just couldn't feel the same about. He used to be bombastic. Explosive. Impulsive. Bold. Then he grew to be somber, concerned and slightly cold to the touch. There was still love, though. For a time... there was.

Her stomach spoke to her and she made her way to the dining car. She slid into a booth and perused the menu. Brunch cocktails. Light fare. Just what she needed. She ordered a glass of champagne and a bloody mary sampler. A soft boiled egg with toast. Fruit bowl. A danish. She was fueling up.

The meal reminded her of another man. Another trip. Another life. She left that memory behind so long ago that it surprised her. Thoughtfully, she explored her past for a spell. Letting the men that had dissipated return for a time. There was no desire to rewire those old connections, just a moment to reflect. The food and drinks came and went without a thought. A shame. It was a beautiful spread and miraculously prepared, but she didn't care. She'd had good food before. She would have good food again.

Next thing she knew, she was back to her window, listening to a playlist that had been collecting dust in the recesses of her hard drive. Skipping around through the songs, she let her life drift before her. Out the window, the east coast was alive with the lush spring to summer growth, and New York was getting closer. She still had a ways to go, though. That was fine. There was time. There was music. There was a subtle buzz that kept her mind from the more depressing moments connected to slower songs and quiet nights.

There was a nap somewhere along the tracks and she lost herself in a book for a time. There wasn't much left to the train ride except time. Her stomach was content, but she did have some coffee that she had brewed that morning. He taught her had to make a really good cup of coffee. He taught her a lot. She taught him, too. They grew. Together. Then they grew apart. Then it got dark. Now, it's over. The epilogue is written. The story is old and stale. He'd say something stupid like that.

New York City was exactly as she expected it, and she had planned the trip with the controlled intensity of a woman with all the money and none of the cares of the world. THIS was the freedom she deserved. Haunted by the longing to escape the mundane day to day, she assaulted the streets of NYC. One drink per bar. A glass of water. A snack. A hefty tip and a lot of conversation. A show here. A shopping spree there. She tried some fine dining, but it felt too stuffy. She wandered into dive bars, but they reminded her too much of his taste. They affected each other. Infected. She wanted to be herself again. Not herself with him. That was over. It needed to stop.

Somewhere around Chinatown, she was visiting the old haunt of a friend of a friend who knew this real interesting shop. She spent a small fortune on trinkets and vintage treasures, telling herself that she needed to decorate her new space. She stopped for a cup of coffee and let the caffeine guide her feet for a time. She loved a good walk. Lived for them, really. It had been awhile.

She headed south, retracing her steps. Making her way to the water, but not the pretty part. They walked this path a few months before things started to really fall apart, and that's when she knew what was coming. The whole scene. The moment. It was a painfully beautiful memory. Chinatown gave way to a part of town that looked a little run down, and the disappointment and exhaustion was compounded by the weather. It was a gloomy afternoon. They'd been trying so hard to make the most of the trip, but nothing good was coming.

The wind off the water was cold and a chill passed through her. A fear burned beneath her resolve and she lost herself in the memory of her first panic attack. He talked her down with the calm and resolve of someone who had experience with that sort of thing. She thought she was dying. She thought she was doing the wrong thing. She didn't know what was happening. It was so scary. It happened so fast.

When she had calmed down and come out of it, she understood a bit more. Everyday. Multiple times a day. For months. That's what he had been dealing with until the meds kicked in. The panic attacks were bad. The delusions were worse. The whole episode that got him diagnosed. The meds. The meds. They changed him. They took him away from her. It just wasn't fair.

She stared at the water and held her breath. She wasn't going to cry on this trip. Not for him. She'd done that. She was over it. She started along the sidewalk. There was construction and a path ahead, so she paused for a final glance at the water. One of those thoughtful looks back that rolls the credits. She looked beautiful, standing in New York City, by the water, a grown woman facing the world on her own.