Clementine

“What are you doing up so late, Meg?” my sister asked, sitting beside me on the porch and handing me a glass of iced tea. “I can’t sleep,” I answered, taking the glass from her outstretched hand. “Somethin’ weighing on you?” she asked me.

“Can I tell you something?” I say softly, looking out into the night.

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“Will you promise not to judge me?”

“Of course I won’t judge you, you’re my sister.” She takes my hands in hers and gives me a reassuring smile.

“Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake marrying Jimmy,” I say quietly as if I can’t believe I’m finally saying it aloud.

“What? But you’ve been married for forty years. Why?”

“Because I wake up in the middle of the night and look over at him and I feel nothing. I don’t hate him. I mean, he’s the father of my children, and we’ve spent most of our lives together. I just don’t feel love for him. I thought I would after this long but I don’t,” I pause and take a deep breath, “Do you think I’m a terrible person?”

“I don’t think you’re a terrible person, Meg. Of course I don’t. I’m just surprised. I always thought you two were such a sweet couple. I mean you’ve been together since high school,”

“I know, I know. I just thought it was safe. I thought it was what I wanted. I should have wanted it. I had what every girl wanted. I got married out of high school, he had a good job, he was good to me. I should be grateful. But I just…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. But you should talk to him. He shouldn’t have to be in the dark about how you feel. You’re living a lie.”

“I know. I just can’t bring myself to tell him.”

“Think about it okay? Get some rest and consider it tomorrow.”

“I will. Thank you for understanding.” I hugged her before getting up and walking back inside.

The mattress dips as I climb into bed beside Jimmy. I felt a little better having spoken to my sister but something still weighed heavily on my chest. I could never tell her the full truth. It wasn’t that I just didn’t love my husband because of who he is, it was because I was still in love with my first love. Today would have been her sixty-fifth birthday. I smile to myself. Knowing her, she was probably out there celebrating with a huge group of friends who were all sorts of wonderful artists and intellectuals. She always did have a way of finding the most unique friends. I wonder where she is right now, if she ever thinks of me. I close my eyes and think back on all of the time we spent together.

I remember the day we first met she was perched up in a tree with the sun shining through her hair, making it look like it was spun of pure gold. Back then I was only ten and had never had a crush of any kind so I didn’t know the signs, but I was completely awestruck by her and felt my cheeks turn bright red. She didn’t notice. She told me her name was Clementine and I thought I’d never heard a more beautiful name in my life. From that day forward she was my closest friend. We did absolutely everything together. We’d climb trees, and I’d tell her stories about knights and princesses and she’d teach me about the bugs.

When we became teenagers things between us changed. I remember when Jimmy first asked me to homecoming she acted strange. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t even know what my own feelings were. Now, I know better. I think of what could have happened if that night I’d stayed home and watched the stars with her instead of attending that dance with Jimmy, but I can’t go back. It wouldn’t have even been possible back then. I didn’t even know what I was feeling was real at the time, that it was possible for a woman like me to exist, to love my best friend in that way. She could be anywhere now. There’s a chance I may never see her again. I can only hope someday we’ll meet again and I can tell her how much I’ve always loved her. I hope she’s happy.

I was a coward. Then and now. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. It was awful, I know, but despite not loving him, I did care for him and I couldn’t break his heart.

The next ten years were happy. Jimmy passed away in his sleep a few years back. I was devastated at his funeral and had never felt more alone. Most days after that I’d read or write or spend time with my grandchildren. In secret, I began writing about her, what I remembered. I was starting to forget now and I didn’t want to forget her. That story remains unfinished.

Today my daughter brought me to a new home. I can’t remember her name. She told me they could help me here and that I could live among new friends. I liked that idea.

I made a new friend today. Her name is Clementine. I thought it was an odd name and told her so. She laughed and then she cried. I didn’t understand why.

This morning I came into the lobby and met a lovely lady named Clementine. She told me stories about knights and princesses. I told her I love those kinds of stories. She said she knew. I think we’re going to be good friends.

In the lobby today I met a woman named Clementine. She cried when she saw me. I don’t understand why. She told me fairytales. I love those stories.

Today, a woman named Clementine held my hand and cried as I fell asleep. I told her not to. She smiled and kissed my forehead.

“Goodbye, my dear Meg, I love you,”