The Geography of longing

Chapter 4:The Proposal

It was a gorgeous ring.

A one-carat diamond in platinum was elegant and understated, staring at Elena across the dinner table. The ring she would have wanted for herself five years ago.

Mark's face was red; he was on one knee, and he was feeling emotional. The restaurant was silent around them, and the other guests were staring at them with their mouths agape.

There has been some weirdness in the last few days, I know," he said. I know you have been distant, but I love you, Elena. I have loved you for five years, and I want to make you happy for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"

Heavy and expectant, with words in the air between them.

Her answer should have been "yes. This is a correct answer. The girl that she was would have responded with no doubt, that's the answer.

However, Elena was not that kind of girl anymore.

The silence stretched. Mark's expression was a series of changes from hope to uncertainty to what appeared to be fear.

"Elena?"

She opened her mouth, and the words that poured out weren't the ones she had in her mind. "I can't."

There was a lot of mumbling in the restaurant. Mark turned as white as a sheet of paper.

What? You can't what?

She ought to let him know. She must say all the things she had to say: Monaco, Luca, the letters, the dreams, the suffocation she had felt for years, and so on.

But she couldn't. She did not have the words, and she did not want to be called a coward, and it was more difficult than she'd thought to break his heart in his face.

No, I mean, I cannot marry you. She rose, making a noise as her chair scraped the floor. I can't...I am not the person you think I am...I'm sorry.

Before he could stop her, she walked out of the restaurant and into the street.

He met her on the street.

What is the matter with you? His voice was rough, that of a man whose world had been ripped from him. It is an ‘explanation' you owe me. It is something you owe me.

She turned around to look at him. His eyes were dark blue, and the streetlights cast long shadows on his face, accentuating the lines of pain.

He asked me, 'Did you fall out of love with me?' Is that what this is, boy? Since you just told me—

This does not imply that the man is falling out of love. Her voice was barely steady; she was shaking. I still love you, Mark; that's the biggest problem. I still love you, but I do not love myself.

"Then what is it?" His voice cracked. "You had one trip to Monaco, and suddenly you're a different person? What happened there? Who did you meet?"

She considered telling white lies. She considered evasive tactics, about saving him from the truth. But he was better deserving.

His name's Luca," she replied. "And I believe that I fell in love with him.

Mark looked at her, as if she'd stabbed him.

He repeated the name, “Luca.” You have fallen for a man during your vacation, and you are wasting five years of your life with a man you hardly know?

I do not throw anything away; I am trying to be honest. Tears fell down her face as she cried. I am not the person I was before, and I did not want to be that person here. I did not plan to be that person here.

"What person?"

The one who was afraid to ask for what she wanted. The one who was not nice to herself enough to want passion. She took a breath. I have been suffocating, Mark. "For years, I never knew it until I got on that plane.

“You can tell me that.” His voice cracked. "Come, you could have spoken to me.

"I tried." She shook her head. I did not have the words, and I still do not. I just know that I cannot marry you when I am in love with someone else; it would not be fair to either one of us.

He did not say anything for a long time. The second time, he spoke in a cold voice. Did you have s*x with him?

“No, nothing happened, not like that.

But you're into him.

"Yes."

"Just you're going to return to him?

She pondered on the garden. The sea. The stars. The letters awaiting her.

She replied, "I don't know. But I know that I can't stay here!