Once His Wife

Her Ultimate Comeback

"My daddy said, that the first time you fall in love, it changes you forever and no matter how hard you try, that feeling just never goes away."

-Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook.

Chassie George

I held the coffee to-go in my right hand, watching the steam make delicate spirals through the tiny slit of the lid and meld with the gold haze of warm sun rays that started peeking out of the clouds and ravines between the buildings; it's seven-thirty in the morning after all.

The sweet aroma of my Cappuccino wafts to my nostrils, lugging all sorts of wistful sentiments out the hollow recess of my chest. I allow myself to sink into the imaginary cushions of the Cappuccino-induced fortress. But I was soon reminded how momentary the solace was when my reprieve from the bustling jungle called downtown, break apart.

A thunderous honk from a massive truck passing by, snapped me out of my temporary relief and jerked me back to the sidewalk. Without respite, cars thicken on the road with every gliding minute, belching out puffs of smoke and hooting at one another as if fighting over who gets to overtake. The fervent demeanor permeated the streets including the slew of people who bustle around. Suitcases dangle with every hasty stride the same way a bag — with a label or not — swings on a feminine arm.

It's a maze of intricate alleys and streets that people have to unriddle every day. But whichever section of space within, there are always myriads of shoulders brushing past each other.

That being said, a woman navigates through a throng of businessmen who were crossing the pedestrian lane. Irritation scribbles crinkles on her face, raying out her discomfort to the labyrinths of city life.

I try not to cringe seeing her red stilettos strike the gray cement with needlelike heels. I bet she's cursing them for the umpteenth time now. I would if I were the one wearing those ridiculous shoes

She hunches her shoulders as she squeezes herself through the narrow windows between business attired strangers. Her hand made a gesture in the air in attempt to flag down a cab. Luckily, one screeches to a stop. She races toward it, beads of sweat sparkle against the morning sunbeams. Just as she was about to reach for the car door though, a guy in a gray button-up shirt and khaki pants grab it from her.

I sighed. This is definitely the place I grew up in. The place I left behind four years ago. I can say it changed but not in a dramatic way that I can no longer recognize my way around. It just improved: buildings springing up from one to three storeys like weeds on spring, not to mention the new establishments like the book shop next to the coffee shop I got my cappuccino from, the new condominium and apartment buildings a few streets away and some commercial buildings perching on the once empty corners as though bragging themselves.

I remember singing at restaurants and resto bars every night; not for the money but for the fun and satisfaction of it as I do so. It was the highlight of my teenage years. Back when the carefree version of myself was out basking in the sun. We all grow up, find love, then get divorced.

An urge to scrape the thought off wash over me.

The woman yelled out a curse to the guy who stole her ride, doing me a favor by disrupting my thoughts. "Guys these days," I murmured with a brief shake of the head.

I look down to my wristwatch, the rhythmic twitches the hands make indicating I may have stalled longer than I intended. And that if I allow another tick, the piece of a life I've taken away from its entirety might resurrect completely. Retracting why I was here in the first place, the image of an empty refrigerator and the threat of cobwebs spun if left that way for another day plays back.

The bird who had flown south found its way back to the nest. That bird happens to have flown back home about a week ago.

I tip the coffee cup and usher my mouth to the lid. My tongue is kissed back to life as the warm liquid travels down my throat soothingly like it always do. Sighing, I reacquainted myself to the task at hand: grocery shopping.

Amid armies after armies of vehicles battling in the city streets, I hailed a cab. A driver mercifully pulls over for me. I rush toward it, ready to break a nose attached to any greedy soul who will dare grab it from me. So far, the run is a peaceful one - no one has to have a bleeding nose. I flopped myself inside the backseat and closed the car door as I mumble where want to be taken to.

Moments later, the grid patterns of buildings bathing in sunlight coax me into rolling down the window. Apart from the structures that weren't there before, I squint at the building we were passing by.

"Forester building - 4? Really?" Even when the cab moves past it, I crane my neck to keep it in sight.

Wow. He achieved so much in the last four years. He has done so much for Forester Realty. He surely did exceeded his family's expectations and standards.

Unlike my parents, his are stringent on him. I pretty much don't have to prove anything to my parents since all I've given them were troubles and headaches.

I grinned at the memory. They're not strict just like his family - Just overprotective.

"You went out of town, miss?" The cab driver asks, giving me a glance through the rearview mirror. Streaks of gray brush soft lines on his hair and beard.

I managed a smile. "Yeah. I've been traveling a lot for the past four years." I can't see any reason why I should lie to the poor, old man but I think I may have not told the truth just a little.

He lets out a chuckle worn by time. "That's a long time. Four years change people a lot."

The warmth of the coffee I rested on my lap starts to pierce through my jeans until I feel it directly on my thigh. I lift it off. "I can see that."

Time does that to people. Change is the only thing that stays the same. I know in that four years I'll be missing a lot. Friends will go on with their lives because pause, stop, fast-forward and playback are just not one of its features. I know he would.

Time is a river: you can set a rock as a barricade to stop it from running but the water goes around no matter the size of the rock.

"But it's alright, miss. People change but they don't forget," the driver drawls, jolting me back to the time presently elapsing.

I meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. "I hope so."

A voiceless part of me craves the relics, and somehow, I know I left crumbs along the way because unknowingly, I'm aware at some point I would backtrack. Although hesitation muted that urge all this time. It's like not saying it out loud is not admitting it.

The cab pulled over the small, austere grocery store that probably the only establishment holding on to what it used to be. The same letters hang on the main entrance and carry the same fonts I last seen it with.

I handed over the cab fare and mumbled a thank you. Hopping off the cab, I gulp the last drops of my Cappuccino. I toss the coffee cup to the garbage bin on my way to the entrance. I check on the back pocket of my jeans to see if I still have the shopping list.

A guard greeted me as I walked in which I replied with a small smile. I headed right to the baking section, looking down to my list and grabbing a cart on the process.

"Flour," I mumbled to myself. I stare at the display racks aligned with ingredients branded with varieties of company names to make grocery shopping a lot harder than it already is. More choices means more grueling time to spend pondering which is which.

I undecidedly pick a bag of flour from the rack. My lips purse, contemplating which one to chuck onto the cart. There are some named after who probably owns the grain field and some with fancier layouts on the bag. Why do we have to make things harder for ourselves?

Frustratedly, I look around, hoping the other customers are in the same predicament as I am. But then my eyes found something I wasn't looking for and perhaps the last thing I ever had the intention of finding at the moment.

On my right, several display racks away, is a woman vacillating between two brands of cookie doughs. Her lips did the familiar purse when she's in a deep thought. Although it was a tiny familiarity, an alarm went off and a bucket of ice cubes has been poured all over me.

It's her.

I gulped and slowly turned away, ready to abandon the shopping cart behind. Not running into people I know is the first plea in my prayers this morning. Especially if it's my sister. I hear heels clacking toward me from behind so I instinctively to take longer strides.

"Chassie George Lewis," Kathie called out. "I know it's you. Turn around."

I bit my bottom lip. With a sigh, I slowly turn around and meet a frowning Kathie. Her face prone to sweet smiles is unnaturally crinkled into a look she so unsuccessfully mask her gladness with; the same gladness churning my stomach for seeing her after a very long time.

Her brown hair, two shades lighter than mine cascaded down her shoulders and her hazel eyes which are the only things that match my features are narrowed in an effort to intimidate me. Just like old times though, it don't. My older sister still looks harmless even with a scowl.

I forced a smile. "Surprise?" It came out as an awkward question rather than a cheerful greeting from someone really intending to surprise her.

She look at me flatly. "Yeah. I 'was' surprised to see you. But that was before you tried running out on me," Kathie pauses. "How could you?" She stomps her right foot in annoyance.

It's awkward having to talk to her with all the fleeting gazes from other customers.

I think she noticed it too because she gestured me to come with her. She ushered me to the parking lot where her pale blue VW is parked.

Kathie leans on the hood and engulf me in an interrogating stare. She's wearing a peach casual dress paired with her all the time favorite footwear - pumps. She likes them so much because it doesn't give her more height as other footwear are designed to. She doesn't need one though. She's blessed with an average height enough for a woman like her to tower over the less fortunate ones like me with my five feet three height.

"Explain yourself. Why didn't you tell me you're back here in L. A.? Why didn't you call me back for so long? Did you know how much I miss you? Where on earth have you been having your four year vacation?"

I was about to open my mouth but she bombarded me with more queries and rants.

"Look. I understand that you needed some time away because I know the divorce wasn't easy for you. I've given you the time to be alone with your thoughts and that was for a year. My fingers were itching to call you but dad told me just leave you be...for a while. But for the next three years you never bothered to call me. Just some flimsy texts telling me where you are. Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, Tokyo, Seoul, Beijing, Pyongyang. It makes me feel like you love Asia more than me." She ended up her lecture with a hurt look.

I tried not roll my eyes. It's Kathie being Kathie. "I texted you. Wasn't that enough?"

"No. You know I'm not contented with simple text messages."

Yeah, right.

"Kathie, maybe it just took that long before I glue myself back together." I shrugged. I don't want to talk about my divorce. It was a long time ago. "If I'm your boyfriend, I will break up with you for being so clingy," I said just to swerve us away from that topic.

Kathie rolled her eyes. "Sadly for you, you're not," She snorted. "We're sisters. And sisters never break up."

I sighed to myself. Having her as a sister can be the best thing and sometimes can be a little overwhelming because she treats me like a baby all the time.

But don't get me wrong. I love her so much. She covers me up all the time. She lies for me, fixes every single mess and that's not what only makes her the best sister ever.

It's like she have a halo above her head. Everyone sees her like that.

We fight over some childish and petty things but she's the one who ends up crying and the first who apologizes even if it was my fault. I know. I'm the luckiest beotch.

We stared at each other for a moment - hazel eyes to hazel eyes. Kathie sighed, finally giving in.

"Come here." She spread her arms out for me and started sniffing as if she's about to cry. "I miss you so much."

A triumphant smile lingered across my face as I guided myself to her arms. She squeezed me comfortingly.

I miss her hugs. They're all so warm.

Kathie rubs my back, knowing I love it when somebody does it. "I can't even stay mad at you for ten freakin' minutes!" She exclaimed and held me in arm's length.

"I know." I shrugged with a grin.

Kathie caged my face between her palms and skimmed it closely. "I know you know that." She smiles.

I beamed back.

"You haven't changed one bit. You're still my baby sister," Kathie mutters, tears starting to brim on her eyes.

I tried not to roll my eyes again. "Don't call me that. I'm twenty three years old now."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Do I have to point it out? I'm twenty three years old. I'm a woman now. I'm just your sister...get rid of the 'baby'." I narrowed my eyes on her.

Kathie snorted. "You'll always be my baby sister even when your teeth fall off with old age."

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop it.

"Anyways, are you sure you're okay now?" She asks, switching to another topic.

"I'm okay."

"Really? You're over Nathaniel?"

My heart writhed. "Of course. It's been a really long time. Why wouldn't I be over him?"

'How did you become used to lying?' The voice in my head snapped.

'But it's true she's over him!' Another voice countered.

"Because you once told me back then that you would never forget Nathaniel Forester," she answers.

I tug her hands down my face. "I didn't mean it."

I said it so nonchalantly that I think I deserve an award.

"Really? I'm a firm believer of 'First love never dies'."

I laugh. "Trust me. It dies. Nathan is history," I muttered.

She c***s her head to one side. "History repeats itself, Chassie."

"Whatever, Kathie."

Kathie snickers. "Aw. I'm sorry. Did I remind you of something you thought you have forgotten?" She teased.

I frowned at her. Just minutes ago I thought I missed her. But her annoying me right now, makes me want to bury my face on the ground.

"Seriously, are you really sure you're over him?" She put her hands on my shoulders. Suddenly, she gasped. "Oh my, god! What are we doing? Let's go take you to mom and dad," she squeals and pulled me by the wrist as though mom and dad is just across the street.

"I can't, Kathie." I rubbed my nape.

Her shoulders slumped out of disappointment. "But why?"

"I didn't came back here alone. We're busy settling in our place."

Kathie's eyes distended. "You're with someone?"

I nodded.

"You're boyfriend?"

"Y-yeah." Sort of.

She gapes at me. "You guys are living together?"

Uhh. Kind of? "Yes." He's a guy and he's a friend. So, that's true.

Hurt crosses her bubbly face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was about to. I was about to surprise you guys that I'm back but then you saw me."

Her eyes shifted to another expression. This time, a relieved one. "Really? I'm sorry I ruin your surprise. I gotta meet this guy. Where is he?"

I smiled. Thank, God!

"Please, don't tell them just yet. I promise I'll visit you guys."

Kathie sighed. "Does that mean I'm going to lie again? It's been a long time since I did that for you."

"Don't worry. You still got it."

She snorts. "You're just telling me that to make me do what you want me to."

"I'm not. I'm just really busy right now."

She plucked out another sigh. "Fine. But you promise, okay? You'll visit us soon."

I nodded as an answer.

Kathie smiles at me. "I really missed you...so much," she mumbles. "And I think I'm late for work. I just dropped by the store to buy some chocolates."

I laughed. "You better get going."

"Yeah. I'll drop you off your place if you want."

"No, thank you. You're going to be late," I declined.

She shakes her head. "I can bear with that thought than having to think you're driving."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not that bad. Besides, I can take a cab."

It was her turn to roll her eyes on me. "Really? Sure. You're not that bad. You just crashed dad's cars back then."

I Remembered. All that just to learn how to drive 'safely'. Each attempt was an epic fail though.

Dad supported me and was the one who tried to teach me but have given up after I crashed the fourth car he bought.

"I'm driving you to your place," Kathie mumbles. "End. Of. Discussion," she continues, pounding her right fist to her left palm as if it was a gavel.

I fidgeted with my index fingers. God, how will I ever get through this day? "Okay," I groaned.

A million dollar winner smile perched on her lips. "Great."

I slid myself on the passenger seat and she walked around the other side to flop on the driver's seat. Later on, we're driving off the parking lot.

"Just drop me off a restaurant."

She spare me a glance. "Okay. You have a date with your new special someone? Hey, you didn't tell me his name yet," she mumbles, the last sentence sounded a little sulky.

"You'll meet him soon. Stop asking."

She giggles. "Okay, sourpuss. Which restaurant?"

I muttered the answer and to my relief, she stopped from bugging me.

After ten minutes or so, we pulled over. "This is the new Italian restaurant my colleagues were talking about." Kathie peeks out the window. "Does your guy works here? How old is he?"

"Yeah. Twenty four," I answered.

"Twenty four?"

I unclasped the seat belt and open the car door on my side. "Yes. Why? Does it sound strange?"

She shrugs. "Uh. A little. Knowing you're into dorks and older guys like Nathaniel."

"Nathan is not a dork. He's not old. He's your age." I crouched to the opened car window just as I closed it.

"Okay. How about nerd?"

"No."

She rolls her eyes. "But he wears eyeglasses."

I lift my brows at her. "So what? It suits him well."

"Okay, fine. You guys got divorced and all that yet you still call him by the nickname you had for him and you still stand up for him, eh?" Kathie wags her brows teasingly.

It was just hard to call him by his name! Besides, I think Nathan sounds better than Nathaniel.

I pursed my lips into a thin line. "Bye." I was about to turn around when she stopped me halfway through.

"Hold up."

I look over my shoulder to meet her gaze.

"I love you. Bye." She says sweetly.

"Thanks."

She frowned. "Do I have to get off this car and give you kisses?"

Oh, crap. No. "I love you, too. Geez. Go on now. You're super late. Your kindergarteners might be growing grey streaks by now."

Kathie laughed but did so anyway. She's really good with kids so being a kindergarten teacher must be easy as ABC for her.