The Choice Not Taken Read Free Page A

my sister’s home.
     
    Under normal circumstances, this type of day–one filled with a combination of work and family-would bring me joy.
     
    Not today.
     
    Blistering reality tugged at the outer edges of my thoughts, ushering in layers of apprehension and fatigue-two things which had been absent for so long. Their very presence brought me back to many years before...when I believed life would never begin again.
     
    Another round of an 80s tune filled the silence, and this time Alex mercifully hit the OFF button.
     
    “Mornin’ Sweetheart,” he said in a raspy voice before kissing my cheek.
     
    Even after hours in bed, his breath smelled of spearmint and his skin hinted at musk. I wondered if he surreptitiously showered and groomed himself in the middle of the night-while I was asleep-to awake so refreshed. But one glance at his mussed hair and playfully bouncing cowlick, and I knew he’d never left my side.
     
    “Mind if I go first?” he politely asked. I shook my head, and he stumbled to the master bath, partially closing the door behind him.
     
    Once the hiss of a steaming shower began, I grabbed the end post for support and hoisted myself out of bed. Stretching my neck and shoulders to loosen the underlying strain didn’t help, but I had too much to accomplish so I ignored it.
     
    With only a limited half-hour before the kids needed to wake, I hurried into the kitchen and set out bowls, spoons, and cereal. Although they were entirely capable of doing this for themselves, I welcomed the busywork.
     
    After lining four different boxes in a neat row between the place settings, I headed for our bedroom. Alex would be out by now, and I determined a hot shower might soothe my pain.
     
    Passing the small kitchen desk tucked amongst a long wall of pantry cabinets, I purposely steered my gaze away from the laptop. The temptation to further research his eulogy was great, but I overcame it, preferring instead to be completely alone in the house when I finally dug deeper into the details.
     
    I respectfully tapped on the bathroom door before entering.
     
    “Hey,” Alex smiled into the mahogany framed mirror spanning the marble vanity and dual sinks.
     
    I hugged him from behind while he expertly knotted a striped silk tie. Staring over his reflection-up and down, over and across-became one of those strange life moments when it seems we discover something familiar for the very first time.
     
    My sleepy gaze took in his dark features, and they appeared so new...I needed to re-learn them all over again. Standing on tip-toes, I rested my chin upon his shoulder to peer at him, closer this time. And though the back of my neck pinched in protest, I didn’t care.
     
    I studied him.
     
    His sparkling eyes winked at me and the fine lines, once masked in the dark of night, now blossomed in amazing depth and handsome beauty. Raising his right hand to brush my cheek, the gentle touch began to remind me of who he and I were.
     
    Alex faced me, and I lightheartedly straightened his tie while he planted a goodbye kiss into my hair and murmured “I love you.”
     
    Left alone, I peered at my image in the bathroom mirror. Without Alex here, I again questioned who I was.
     
    Washed out curls landed on petite shoulders, and wide-set gray eyes followed a visual path down lean arms, over small-yet still perky-breasts, and along slim hips. Underneath the gauzy white nightgown, I could detect the outline of my frame. And my repulsive reaction was one I hadn’t experienced for quite some time.
     
    This person looked like someone I once knew. She held a striking resemblance–too much so–of a previous self; one that fortunately disappeared long ago. And I hadn’t missed her...never once-or ever-since those immediate years following the incident.
     
    She had reluctantly stepped aside so her authentic self could have a chance to live. And love. She once pledged she was gone forever. But now here she was–a spectral trace