Pride was a sin, wasn't it?
So, why was she too proud to admit she missed him? She missed the curve of his face, the way the rims of his glasses brushed against her temple when he whispered in her ear, the earthy way he smelled after a long day of hard work. She missed the music of squeaky rocking chairs, the crickets hidden in overgrown fields, the lumpy mattress, the creak of the floorboards on a windy summer night. She missed the silence, the ability to just know, the quiet admiration.
Life now was all noise, all pomp and circumstance. Every day was a scene, a desperate plea for attention, the thirst for the spotlight. She shied away, retreating into her Bible when things got noisy or Andy got nosy.
Her grandmother had always told her "wherever you go, go with all your heart."
Her heart was buried in a beet field. The rich, moist soil was keeping it safe for she-didn't-know-when.
Tonight she had been too proud to say no, too proud to admit that she missed him, too proud to admit that she had forgiven him. Instead, her pride grabbed hold of her tongue and forced out one horrible word: "Okay."
She excused herself afterward, embarrassed and ashamed to be ruled by sin. She sat at her desk in the dark and took the ring off. It was too big, like it was meant for someone else, someone who might love him for him, whoever that saint might be.
She set the ring down on a pile of paperwork and rubbed her eyes. She tried to imagine a life with Andy. They would go to Cornell reunions, have children who would go to Cornell on legacy, spend their golden years listening to a capella records and scanning the Cornell alumni newsletter. They would go to church and he would wait patiently while she confessed that her life was a lie built on a foundation of terrible pride, that she lusted for another man's lost touch. She would spend her days picking out tea towels with embroidered kittens and they would sit on the porch on uncomfortable wicker furniture he bought on sale at a chain store. Yes, it would be... okay.
She reached for the ring when she heard someone enter the office. Assuming it was Andy come to find her, she clutched the ring painfully in her curled fist and stood up.
"Oh," she whispered when she saw him. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hello, Dwight."
Dwight stared at her intently for a moment. She could see sunsets over meadows in his eyes, could hear the call of summer crickets and creaking floorboards in his strained voice. "Congratulations. I hope... you're very happy."
He picked up his coat and turned to go. She could see the proposal weighing heavily on his shoulders, hunching his back and buckling his knees.
It wasn't pride that made her speak now.
"D..."
It was a whisper, an admission, an offer. It was lumpy mattresses, sleeping cardigans tossed to the floor, squeaky rocking chairs, warm summer breezes, salty tears and cat-sized coffins.
It was everything before and after and ever to be.
