THE LOST YEARS
1220 Words
"You're standing like you're waiting for permission to sit."
Aria looked up.
The woman across from her lifted an eyebrow.
"What?"
"That." The woman pointed at the empty chair. "You've been staring at it for thirty seconds."
Aria sat.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize."
The woman extended her hand.
"Nadia."
"Aria."
"Nice to meet you, Aria."
The Saturday workshop buzzed around them. People chatted over coffee and notebooks. Aria usually sat near the back.
Usually alone.
Nadia glanced at the untouched coffee in front of her.
"You hate it."
"What?"
"The coffee."
"I haven't tasted it."
"You made a face when you smelled it."
Aria laughed despite herself.
Nadia grinned.
"There it is."
"What?"
"A personality."
Aria blinked.
"That's a strange thing to say."
"Not really."
Nadia leaned back.
"You've been coming here for weeks."
"You've noticed?"
"Of course I've noticed."
Nobody else did.
The thought came and went quietly.
Nadia picked up her notebook.
"You always sit alone."
"I like quiet."
"No, you don't."
Aria smiled faintly.
"You know me now?"
"I know enough."
The workshop instructor called for attention.
The room settled.
Nadia leaned closer.
"If this turns out to be another lecture about unlocking our inner potential, I'm leaving."
Aria covered her mouth.
"You can't leave."
"Watch me."
The instructor began speaking.
Nadia lasted seven minutes.
Then she slid a note across the table.
Help me.
Aria looked at it.
Then wrote back.
You're dramatic.
Nadia nodded solemnly.
Extremely.
For the first time that week, Aria laughed.
A real laugh.
Not a polite one.
Not a practiced one.
A real one.
The first week of marriage had felt like checking into a hotel.
Cole walked through the apartment ahead of her.
"This is the living room."
She almost laughed.
"I can see that."
"The guest room is there."
"The guest room?"
"If you prefer it."
Aria looked at him.
"Where do you sleep?"
"The master."
"Right."
Cole nodded.
"As long as we're clear."
Clear.
Everything with him was clear.
Measured.
Contained.
No confusion.
No warmth either.
He opened another door.
"Kitchen."
Another.
"Office."
Another.
"Gym."
Aria followed him through twelve thousand square feet of luxury.
Every room perfect.
Every room impersonal.
At the end of the tour, Cole checked his watch.
"I have a meeting."
She stared.
"That's it?"
"What else would there be?"
The answer told her more about the marriage than the contract ever had.
The first business dinner happened six days later.
A man in an expensive suit smiled.
"Cole."
Cole shook his hand.
"David."
The man's attention shifted.
"And this is?"
"My wife."
Nothing else.
No name.
No introduction.
No explanation.
Just my wife.
The conversation continued.
Five minutes passed before the man finally asked her directly.
"And your name?"
"Aria."
"Pleasure to meet you."
Before she could say anything else, Cole redirected the discussion.
Quarterly projections.
Acquisitions.
Markets.
Numbers.
She sat beside him for three hours.
Nobody asked what she thought.
Nobody seemed curious.
By the end of the night she had met fourteen people.
The second dinner brought twelve more.
The third brought another fourteen.
Forty people.
Forty introductions.
Forty conversations.
Not once did Cole ask for her opinion.
Not once did he invite her into a discussion.
Not once did he use her name unless someone required clarification.
"My wife."
Always my wife.
Never Aria.
**************
"Did you hear anything I just said?"
Nadia snapped her fingers.
Aria blinked.
"No."
"Wow."
"Sorry."
"You disappeared."
The workshop had ended twenty minutes ago.
Most people had already left.
Nadia folded her arms.
"Where do you go?"
"What?"
"In your head."
Aria looked down.
"I don't know."
"That's not true."
The answer came too quickly.
"I was thinking about my husband."
Nadia made a face.
"That bad?"
Aria laughed.
"That's not an answer."
"It kind of is."
Nadia studied her.
"You never talk about him."
"There isn't much to say."
"That's impossible."
"It isn't."
"Everyone has something to say about their spouse."
Aria looked out the window.
Not everyone.
Some people spent years becoming quieter.
Some people learned how much space they were allowed to occupy.
Then learned how to make themselves smaller than that.
Nadia tapped the table.
"Hey."
Aria looked back.
"Sorry."
"There you go again."
"Going where?"
"Far away."
************
The first year taught her which questions not to ask.
The lesson arrived gradually.
One evening she waited until midnight.
When Cole walked through the door, she stood from the couch.
"Where have you been?"
He stopped.
Looked at her.
Nothing dramatic.
No anger.
No raised voice.
Just a look.
Cold.
Dismissive.
Like she had crossed some invisible line.
"Working."
"Until midnight?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
The next week she asked again.
The look returned.
Longer this time.
Sharper.
The third time, he didn't answer at all.
He simply walked past her.
After that she stopped asking.
Not because she wasn't curious.
Because not knowing was better than being treated like an unwanted stalker.
***********
"Tell me one thing."
Nadia sipped her coffee.
"One thing what?"
"One thing you like."
Aria frowned.
"About what?"
"Anything."
"That's very broad."
"Exactly."
Aria thought for a moment.
"Books."
"Good."
"You sound surprised."
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because most people answer with something boring."
She laughed.
"Books are exciting?"
"They're better than networking."
"Everything is better than networking."
"See?" Nadia pointed at her. "There you are again."
"What?"
"That."
"What?"
"That person."
Aria smiled despite herself.
Nadia smiled back.
Neither looked away immediately.
It felt strange.
Being seen.
Really seen.
Not evaluated.
Not managed.
Not displayed.
Seen.
**********
The second year settled into routines.
Saturday workshops.
Wednesday coffee.
Hospital visits.
Workshops gave her somewhere to go.
Coffee gave her someone to talk to.
The hospital gave her proof that at least one decision she'd made had mattered.
Her father was alive.
Sometimes that had to be enough.
The rest of her life existed in careful margins.
Cole traveled.
Cole worked.
Cole hosted dinners.
Cole attended events.
Aria appeared when required.
Smiled when expected.
Disappeared when convenient.
She became good at it.
Expert, even.
There was a specific grief attached to invisibility.
Not the grief of being hated.
Hatred required attention.
This was different.
This was being overlooked by the person whose name she carried.
Being present without being acknowledged.
Being remembered only when necessary.
She learned to survive it.
Then she learned to organize her life around surviving it.
And somehow that felt worse.
***************
Nadia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her cup.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"I swear."
"No human being said that."
"He did."
The laughter returned.
Bright.
Unrestrained.
The kind that turned heads.
Aria found herself laughing too.
The story wasn't even that funny anymore.
It didn't matter.
For a moment the room felt lighter.
For a moment she wasn't somebody's wife.
Wasn't part of an arrangement.
Wasn't a carefully dressed accessory at the edge of someone else's life.
She was simply Aria.
Nadia wiped her eyes.
"You're impossible."
"So are you."
"That's fair."
They smiled at each other.
The feeling lingered.
Small.
Unexpected.
Important.
And because it was so rare, because it happened so infrequently, because she could count the number of moments like this on one hand, Aria understood exactly what it was.
This.
Right here.
This was what being a full person felt like.
And understanding that hurt more than she expected.
- Writer
