Married to my Heartbreaker

CASSIDY If I had been told that the same person that lived in my heart would be the one to break it, then I would've laughed and dismissed whoever did. Except, it did happen, and here is how it all started. I was returning home from work and I remembered that Maureen and I were short of some toiletries. So, I decided to make a stop at Queensland, the famous supermarket along the Upper Manhattan highway. Traffic was light that night compared to how it was most times so I got there earlier than expected. I probably wouldn't have crossed paths with him if there had been heavy traffic. The cab dropped me in front of the property and I paid him and alighted from it. He must have been expecting me to tip him because he drove off without giving me my change as soon as I shut his door. I didn't need the money that much so I sighed and continued walking. The night was young and the moon was high up in the sky. I saw two people walking hand in hand as I made my way to the entrance of the supermarket. Hmm. Summer and lovers. Forcing their thoughts out of my mind, I pushed the double doors open and walked in. The aisles were filled with people coming and going and lively chatter occupied the air. I went straight to the section I knew the toiletries I wanted were and I began selecting the one we needed. Maureen never remembered the necessary things we needed whenever she went shopping for her ridiculously expensive clothes so it always fell on me to do that. After throwing everything I wanted into the trolley, I grabbed the handle and started pushing it. Maybe I had applied too much energy into pushing it, or the floor was slippery, or the tires just decided to embarrass me that night, I can't tell the exact reason the trolley moved so fast that I literally had to run after it, with my hands still on the handle. Imagine that. So, I continued running after the crazy trolley and an expression of pure horror appeared on my face as I realised that someone was coming as I was getting close to the end of the aisle. The person was talking to someone on the phone and I decided screaming in alarm might not be of any use. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop it in time so the best option I had was to try to maneuver it somehow to avoid hitting whoever was coming. I did manage to maneuver it but the attempt failed poorly as the trolley hit him square in the mid section. He let out a grunt as it knocked him clean onto the floor and sent the phone in his hand skidding across. The phone skidded towards one of the shelves and disappeared under it. Everything that happened was followed by a string of curses that I couldn't hear clear but I knew would be unplugged to the ears. I didn't need my hands to hold the trolley anymore since it had stopped and my palms went up to cover my mouth. “Oh my God,” I said. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?” Surprising, he gets up from the floor almost immediately, as if nothing had happened. “Can't you watch where you're going?” He asked and I could hear the irritation in his voice. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” I said. “The damn trolley started moving on its own.” “Of course, it did,” he said and the sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable. His head was bent the whole time while he was dusting his trousers. “I'm sorry,” I apologized again. He raised his head up and brown, dreamy eyes were staring at me. “Stop apologizing, damn it,” he bellowed. “It's even more annoying.” “Sor—,” I started to say but I caught myself. “Nevermind. Are you okay?” He didn't reply and I guess it was because of the recognition that flashed across his face. I also noticed that something about him was strikingly familiar but my brain could come up with nothing. Then he said, “Sid?” And I remembered immediately. More than fifteen years had passed and just that one word triggered my memory. I hadn't heard it in that fifteen years, in fact, I had long given up on hearing it again. “Mark?” I asked, my eyes searching his own and my heart expecting that feeling I always did whenever I looked into his eyes. But it never came. Not to worry, maybe it was still too early. “Jesus. It's you,” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” “I should be asking you that. I live close by,” I replied, still surprised that I was actually standing before him. “You do?” His voice had suddenly become calm and anyone that saw him would find it had to believe he had been cursing and scolding in irritation just a few minutes earlier. “Yes,” I replied. I realized my hands were twitching nervously on the handle of the trolley and I tried to get them to stop but it was as if they had their own will. “I live here in Upper Manhattan. In a neighborhood called Oakwood. “Whoever thought we would meet again?” He asked and I guessed it was more of a statement than a question. “Especially after you ran away,” he added. “I didn't run away,” I defended. “My parents moved and it's not like I had a choice to not go along with them.” “Indeed,” he said. He looked around frantically and I remembered his phone going under the shelf behind him. “There.” I pointed at it. “It went under that shelf.” He moved towards it and fell on his knees. He put one hand under and he began moving it in sweeping motions. He stopped after a few seconds and, sure enough, the house was in his hand when he drew it back. He returned to his feet and approached me. “So, Sid, how has life been for you? What happened after you decided to run from Spring Grove?” He asked. He put the phone in his pocket without even checking its condition. “Don't call me Sid,” I warned. Hearing the name brought back memories that I wasn't sure I wanted to remember. That word alone had made my heart feel a million different things that I couldn't name and I wasn't sure I could handle them at that moment. “What should I call you then?” He asked. He had an amused expression on his face that made me want to smack him. “My name. Cassidy,” I replied, “just like everyone else does.” He took a step closer to me and my hands started twitching faster. My heart also started feeling one out of those million things. “But I am not everyone else.” He put one hand on mine, his eyes staring deep into mine. “Or who can make you as agitated as I am doing right now, if not for me?” I pulled back and the trolley followed me. The stupid trolley decided to be hyperactive again and it responded so fast that I nearly lost my footing. Mark's hand on my back prevented me from falling. That was the final straw as the feeling of his hand on my back opened the floodgate of memories I had tried so hard to trap in mind.