before my eyes, as an outsider, it only felt wrong. Could one not love one person for eternity? Could one not keep his or her promise? Elliot could have any woman he wanted, and until that moment, I’d believed he wanted only me. I’d never been so wrong.
The letter. I remembered the perplexing letter Jane had received from Andre years after their declaration of love. It was all in the story, all tragically detailed. He had broken her heart with his decision to go to Italy instead of returning to Chicago for her. It is why she agreed to marry Stephen, an action that forever changed the trajectory of their lives. It is why she wrote him that cold, blunt letter shortly before the war broke out, snuffing out any further possibility of their love, even if that love still smoldered in her heart for years to come. “When you killed things,” Jane had said, responding with decisiveness to Andre’s actions, “you killed them quickly.” And I knew, at that moment, what needed to be done.
Rose and Frances stood by me in silence, each holding one of my arms, to steady me or to prevent me from darting across the street, or both. But I broke free from their grasp and ran, without caring if I’d be hit, across the street to where Elliot was standing in front of a newspaper vending machine.
I pried the ring, the one Elliot had given me last month, with its enormous pear-shaped diamond nestled between two red rubies, off of my left hand. It was way too extravagant, and I had told him so, but he wanted me to have the best, he had said, even if it meant going into debt for the rest of his life, which I think is what he did. None of that mattered now, though, not after seeing him here with another woman and hearing him say those incriminating words.
“Hello, Elliot,” I said coldly, once I’d made my way to the other side of Marion Street.
He looked at once startled and at ease, as though he had everything and nothing to hide. My face felt hot. “How could you?”
A confused expression clouded his face, and then he shook his head. “No, no, you have the wrong impression,” he said. “She’s just a friend.”
“A friend?” I said. “So why did you lie and say you had business to attend to? This is clearly not business.”
Elliot looked at his feet. “She’s just an old friend, Esther,” he said. “I swear.”
I clutched my necklace tightly. It was just a little gold starfish that dangled from a simple chain. I’d won it at the street fair years ago, and it had become my good luck charm. I needed all the luck I could get then, because I knew he was lying. I had seen the way she looked at him, the flirtation in her mannerisms, the way they embraced. His hands had been low on her waist. She was more than a friend. Any fool could see that.
I regretted what I was about to do before I did it, but I proceeded just the same. I squeezed the ring in my hand into a tight fist and threw it as far as I could down the sidewalk. We both watched as it skipped along the pavement, until it sputtered and rolled—right into a storm drain.
“It’s over,” I said. “Please don’t ever speak to me again. I don’t think I could bear it.”
I saw Rose and Frances staring in horror from the other side of the street. It felt like a Herculean effort to walk back to them and away from Elliot. Because, you see, I knew I was walking away, forever, from our life together.
“Wait, Esther!” I could hear him shouting from across the street, through traffic. “Wait, let me explain! Don’t leave like this!”
But I told myself to keep walking. I had to. I just had to.
Chapter 7
I read for another hour, unable to look away from the pages, even for ferry horns or beachcombers with barking dogs. True to her promise, Esther didn’t forgive Elliot. He wrote to her for months, but she tossed his letters, all of them, into the trash, never opening a single one. Rose married Will and moved to Seattle. Frances stayed on the island, where, to the dismay
The letter. I remembered the perplexing letter Jane had received from Andre years after their declaration of love. It was all in the story, all tragically detailed. He had broken her heart with his decision to go to Italy instead of returning to Chicago for her. It is why she agreed to marry Stephen, an action that forever changed the trajectory of their lives. It is why she wrote him that cold, blunt letter shortly before the war broke out, snuffing out any further possibility of their love, even if that love still smoldered in her heart for years to come. “When you killed things,” Jane had said, responding with decisiveness to Andre’s actions, “you killed them quickly.” And I knew, at that moment, what needed to be done.
Rose and Frances stood by me in silence, each holding one of my arms, to steady me or to prevent me from darting across the street, or both. But I broke free from their grasp and ran, without caring if I’d be hit, across the street to where Elliot was standing in front of a newspaper vending machine.
I pried the ring, the one Elliot had given me last month, with its enormous pear-shaped diamond nestled between two red rubies, off of my left hand. It was way too extravagant, and I had told him so, but he wanted me to have the best, he had said, even if it meant going into debt for the rest of his life, which I think is what he did. None of that mattered now, though, not after seeing him here with another woman and hearing him say those incriminating words.
“Hello, Elliot,” I said coldly, once I’d made my way to the other side of Marion Street.
He looked at once startled and at ease, as though he had everything and nothing to hide. My face felt hot. “How could you?”
A confused expression clouded his face, and then he shook his head. “No, no, you have the wrong impression,” he said. “She’s just a friend.”
“A friend?” I said. “So why did you lie and say you had business to attend to? This is clearly not business.”
Elliot looked at his feet. “She’s just an old friend, Esther,” he said. “I swear.”
I clutched my necklace tightly. It was just a little gold starfish that dangled from a simple chain. I’d won it at the street fair years ago, and it had become my good luck charm. I needed all the luck I could get then, because I knew he was lying. I had seen the way she looked at him, the flirtation in her mannerisms, the way they embraced. His hands had been low on her waist. She was more than a friend. Any fool could see that.
I regretted what I was about to do before I did it, but I proceeded just the same. I squeezed the ring in my hand into a tight fist and threw it as far as I could down the sidewalk. We both watched as it skipped along the pavement, until it sputtered and rolled—right into a storm drain.
“It’s over,” I said. “Please don’t ever speak to me again. I don’t think I could bear it.”
I saw Rose and Frances staring in horror from the other side of the street. It felt like a Herculean effort to walk back to them and away from Elliot. Because, you see, I knew I was walking away, forever, from our life together.
“Wait, Esther!” I could hear him shouting from across the street, through traffic. “Wait, let me explain! Don’t leave like this!”
But I told myself to keep walking. I had to. I just had to.
Chapter 7
I read for another hour, unable to look away from the pages, even for ferry horns or beachcombers with barking dogs. True to her promise, Esther didn’t forgive Elliot. He wrote to her for months, but she tossed his letters, all of them, into the trash, never opening a single one. Rose married Will and moved to Seattle. Frances stayed on the island, where, to the dismay
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