It was a typical Monday morning.

Rain was falling softly against the flat roof of the decrepit school building and dripping down like tears against the dusty windows of the cafeteria. A bus pulled up behind the windows, and from my position I could watch as the students scrambled in with books and half opened umbrellas hovering over their heads to block out the cold droplets.

I was sitting at one of the long, chronically dirty tables that filled the vast emptiness that was the cafeteria. The masses of students that surrounded my tiny, personal bubble were all chattering amongst themselves over the latest break up or other such trivial drama that mean everything in high school. Ten years later I wouldn’t remember the words that were floating through that thin atmosphere. It wouldn’t matter that the book I was reading to keep myself from feeling awkward without someone to talk to was A Separate Peace by John Knowles. What I would always remember about that seemingly normal Monday morning, was the soft tap of his shoes as he walked toward me and the abrupt and casual way that he said my name.

My eyes drifted from the pages of my book just as Phineas was about to jump into the water, and I blinked as I stared at the boy in front of me. He was tall and lanky; and his messy, light brown hair was swept back from his eyes. His eyes were hazel, and they peered at me in obvious familiarity. My hand nervously lifted to toy with a lock of my blonde hair.

“Hi?” I replied vaguely, wondering who he was and why he had decided to grace me with his presence.

“Don’t you remember me?” He lifted a hand and ran his long fingers through his hair.

My mind went to work, processing his features and his movements as quickly as possible to try to match him up with the handful of people I knew. I had been home schooled until tenth grade and had been blessed with a strict Christian family that drastically limited my social life. I was sure I had no idea who the handsome boy sitting in front of me was.

“No, I’m sorry,” I finally admitted with a shrug of my shoulders. “I don’t.”

“Robert. Its me Robert.” He replied absently as he looked down at his lap and fumbled with an mp3 player. I was very glad he wasn’t looking at me when he said this. My mouth dropped open, and I began to remember his eyes and his voice. He had changed so much since the last time I saw him, which was when I was eleven. He had lived in the house across from mine, and on my eleventh birthday, he had picked up and left without as much as a goodbye. Back then he had been a little on the heavy side and very awkward with his long arms and big feet.

“Robert, I don’t believe it. You look so different.”

“Is that a good thing?” he looked up again at me, raising one of his brows.

“Oh, of course!” I stammered nervously, feeling a blush creeping into my cheeks.

The bell rang, and I cursed its terrible timing as I stood up and leaned down to grab the straps of my abnormally heavy book bag. He continued to talk while I wrestled my hair from the straps of my bag.

“… so I can call sometime.”

I slung my purse over my shoulder and turned back to him in confusion. “What?”

“Your number?” he repeated patiently, glancing over his shoulder to look out of the windows toward the buses.

“Oh, yes!” I fumbled into my purse for a pen as he held out his hand to me. For a moment I was unsure as to what he wanted me to do, but all of those teenage romance movies saved me. I found myself scribbling down the numbers awkwardly onto his palm before pushing the pen back down into my purse. Once he had gotten the string of numbers, he drifted away from the table where I still stood, dumbfounded.

It turned out that I didn’t have to wait very long for that first phone call, and before I could catch my breath, I was his girlfriend.

Our first date, he was thirty minutes late.

We had planned on going to the movies then out to eat afterwards, but he was hungry so we changed our plans and went to eat before hand. The restaurant was a quite pizza parlor on a street corner right across from the little theatre. There were small booths around the edges of the restaurant and round tables in the middle. He chose one of the booths by a window, and we sat down on opposite sides of the table. The waitress took our order then left us alone in silence.

As sad as it may seem, this was my first date ever. Up until this point, I was not allowed to even speak of the opposite sex, and if I did slip up and mention them, my father would quickly end the conversation with one of his trademark glares. Plus, it was hard to meet people when you spend most of your time at home.

The food arrived and we thanked the waitress quietly before beginning to eat. Conversation between us was slightly awkward and filled with many awkward pauses in which I tried to keep my eyes focused out of the window by our table or fill the void in activity by shoving food down my throat. During one of those lulls in conversation, I caught Robert staring out of the window with a strange look on his face. Blinking, I realized that that goofy grin was the same kind I saw when the guys at my high school were checking out the cheerleaders. As this train of thought was rumbling through the stations of my mind, I immediately turned to follow his gaze to the sidewalk outside.

I was met with the sight of a tall, hourglass shaped female wearing black slacks and stilettos strutting away, swinging her hips slowly as if she were crossing a runway instead of sidewalk. When I looked back at him, his eyes were still fixed on her and those swaying hips. I discreetly cleared my throat and that brought his eyes back to me for a moment before they glanced back outside. When he looked at me again, he smiled and went back to eating as if nothing had happened.

“I love pants like that. They look so sexy.” He said with a chuckle as he took a sip of his soda. I was still staring at him with a kind of blank expression; I wasn’t sure what to do or say to convey how I was feeling. He must have noticed my expression, because after a pause to examine my eyes, he quickly added that he had been imagining me in those pants instead of really paying attention to that girl.

Strangely enough, I took him at his word.

In retrospect it probably wasn’t the best idea to believe such an obviously untrue story, but I cared for him though I wouldn’t have called it love. We said that we loved each other, sure, but it didn’t feel that way. We barely saw each other outside of school, and we never kissed. One day at school when we were sitting in the cafeteria before classes, he did something that to this day, I still cannot fully believe.

His hand had been resting on my thigh, and we were talking about something inconsequential such as our jobs. I was so wrapped up in complaining about the evils of fast food employment that I didn’t really notice when his hand moved. I did, however, notice when he began to run his hand along my inner thigh. “Can I touch you?” He was asking me, but even as he spoke, he was already touching me.

I can’t even begin to describe how it felt, but I was glad when the bell finally rung for class to start. I hadn’t been able to answer him, and when I hurriedly stood and gathered my things, all I could do was stammer a good-bye and a promise that I’d call him after school.

The rest of that day, all I could think about was what had happened that morning. It might sound childish, but I was raised in a strict, sheltered Christian family. This kind of thing happening to me was shocking. I was naïve and the thought that guys were not the sweet, noble creatures that lived in the world of ink and paper was devastating for me. So that day, I couldn’t pay attention to the lessons.

Instead, I listened to the rain pattering outside on the windows, and I kept my legs crossed.

This turned out to not just be a one time thing with him.

Everyday, he asked the same thing as he touched me. Of course, I would object to this, but he would keep pestering me until I finally grumbled a ‘yes’ just to get him to stop talking about it.

Afterwards I always felt as if I had done something wrong. As stupid as it may sound, I felt like I had been raped even though he was touching me through my clothes. I hated it, and I knew that I couldn’t keep this up.

So I talked to him about it, but that didn’t do any good. He would not stop, no matter what I said. No matter how much I begged and cried, he didn’t want to stop. “Its my favorite spot,” He’d say. After three months of dealing and trying to get him to stop, I broke up with him.

That night after the break up was the first night the orange sherbet appeared in my freezer.

It had always been my favorite ice cream, and I was so depressed about our break up that I went to the store and grabbed two cases of it from the chilly containers at the grocery store. Robert had told me that I would not find a guy better than him. “At least this is all I do.” He would tell me when I expressed my extreme displeasure with his touching habits.

The next morning, my mother found a spoon and a bowl with traces of the melted orange treat in the sink.

I wandered through life alone for a month or two, recuperating from the relationship with Robert. It was him that first put that small seed of fear in me. I didn’t feel the same way about guys, and I was almost afraid that if I had another boyfriend, he would do the same thing Robert had. That’s when I met Jacob.

Jacob was in French class with my best friend Annette. I had only seen him a few times when I was standing outside of the door waiting on Annette to come from class. He would walk by and glance my way with those round, blue eyes of his before continuing on his way. One day, I asked Annette about him, and I found out that me and him had a whole lot in common.

“He likes to draw, just like you do,” She told me one day as she sat across from me at the picnic tables outside. She went on and on, and the list of things we both liked grew longer and longer. I thought about him that night after school, and the next day when I was waiting for my friend Annette, I actually looked at him for the first time when he passed by.

He had shaggy black hair, those blue eyes, and he was only a few inches taller than me. He wore lots of black and reds like I did; he had a slender build and he was altogether a perfect example of my perfect guy. I had always wanted someone like him. So I did something I had never done up to that point.

I approached him first.

The next morning when he walked by, I stepped up to him and gave him a hug. When I pulled away, he laughed and smiled at me. “What was that for?” He asked as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Today is random hug day,” I explained with a shrug, feeling a blush painting my cheeks.

“Do you have an instant messenger?” He went on to ask as he pulled out a small piece of paper and a mechanical pencil. I nodded dumbly and watched as he scribbled down his screen name and handed the paper to me.

“Message me later.”

When I got home that night, I immediately messaged him and we talked for a long while about the most random things. We properly introduced ourselves, and soon we were talking everyday at and after school.

It was during one of those times after school when we were talking on the instant messenger that he asked me to the senior prom. I agreed immediately, and the next day we sealed our arrangement with our first kiss.

The prom was the next weekend, so we had to scramble to get things together. He didn’t have his tuxedo and I didn‘t have a dress, but we had the tickets and each other and for a while that was all that mattered.

I ended up buying a black and white dress. The dress was perfect, it was in my size, and it was on sale. God was with me, and He wanted this to work out. The thought gave me a light feeling, and I felt like I could fly. I had been praying so much lately about everything. About Jacob and my life and what I was going to do, and now it seemed like I was getting the answer to my prayers.

Jacob was the answer.

Jacob was my happily ever after.

Instead of spending time and money on a professional, my mother fixed up my hair and makeup. Surprisingly, that was the first time I ever wore makeup. I had never thought I had needed it. Not that I thought I was so beautiful as to not require makeup, but I saw makeup as a kind of mask. I liked being honest about my looks. Prom night, however, was a different story. I wanted to look perfect.

We picked Jacob up at his house, and my mother drove us to a buffet for our before prom dinner. The conversation was casual, and we had to talk a little loud because we were in a room with a large group of older people. One couple coming into the room paused when they saw us and smiled knowingly; the woman touched my shoulder. “Newlyweds?” They asked us with beaming smiles.

We glanced at each other then shook our heads, smiling nervously as we replied that no, we were not married, we were just going to the prom. The elderly couple nodded, still smiling, and waddled over to the other table to sit with the rest of the group.

Despite such a weird beginning, the night went by like a dream.

We arrived at the Country Club where our prom was to be held, and my mother pulled away, leaving us to stand at the doors alone. I don’t think I have ever felt as free as I did when her car was gone.

Inside, there was a large, open dance floor with a cluster of tables at one side and the DJ’s table on the other. There were two doorways and a hall that led from the dance floor. One door led to a sitting room with ornate couches and a loveseat; the other door led to a room with more tables; the hallway led to a small, open area with a long table holding food and a bar. Obviously the bar did not serving alcohol to us, but most of my friends wished they had.

Me and Jacob sat down at one of the tables on the dance floor and began to talk. While we were there, Robert and his fiancé showed up and sat down across from us. After a few moments of tense conversation, they left and wandered off, leaving me and Jacob alone again.

"What’s wrong?" Jacob finally asked, slipping his arm around my shoulders and tugging me close.

“That was my ex.” I said with a frown, looking down into the water that was swirling around in my plastic goblet.

"Oh, I wish I had known that sooner." He grumbled, looking in the direction Robert and the female had gone. I must have looked a little worried that he would start something, because he then laughed and lifted his hands in surrender. "I’ll be a good boy, don’t worry."

And he was. We didn’t speak badly or ignore my ex and his new girl. In fact, we spoke pleasantly and took a picture of them together.

Then we danced.

I must admit, for the fast paced rap songs, I was lost and just stood with Jacob’s arms around my waist, watching the others. I gave in to the pleadings of my friends and tried to dance to one of the songs. I failed miserably, but it was fun to try, and the friend I was dancing with, who was female, danced just as poorly as I.
Annette and her boyfriend we naturals. They both swayed and rocked their hips to the music. She had told me before that dancing at prom was like clothed sex, and, watching the two of them, I understood what she meant. It was amazing to watch, and soon others were joining in. Annette had always been a trend setter.

I danced the slow songs with Jacob.

I had been told that there were hardly any slow songs played at the junior prom, which I had not attended, and I had worried that I would not be able to dance at all. My worries were groundless, however, the DJ played several slow songs for the poor souls like me who could not ‘pop, lock, and drop it.’

It was like heaven.

The music drifting around us like clouds; the lights traveling soothingly about the floor and casting shades of blues, greens, and reds on our faces; the gentle, swaying motions; his arms around me; it was heaven. Pure heaven.

For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to feel as if you were walking on air. It seemed to me that the ground had dropped away. Pink and white, fluffy clouds had replaced the dark floor, and a sunny, blue sky had taken the spot of the ceiling above us. There were no other dancers, only birds that sang the melodies and words that were drifting like sweet, nurturing lullabies into our ears.

We kissed.

For the first time, I was really kissed. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and mine responded. Another, private dance occupied our attention, and then the kiss ended, and we fell back into our gentle swaying. After a few dances, we went into the sitting room and sat down on one of the couches.

I was nestled against him with his arm was around my shoulders. I rested my head against his shoulder and smiled a little, closing my eyes as he held me under the soft lights that brightened the area.

The rest of the night passed like a dream, and like dreams, it ended far too soon. I came home exhausted, but nearly dying with happiness. I thought that my troubles were over, and that I had finally found what I needed in a guy.

I went to bed thinking that one day, I would marry Jacob.

Summer came. We graduated, and I hugged Jacob and kissed him as we went to our cars in our caps and gowns. I went on a small vacation with my mother, it was my graduation present, then came home to relax.
We went out a lot. We spoke online as well, not to mention he called. I was suddenly getting a whole lot of attention, and I wasn’t quite sure if I liked it. Our favorite place for a date was behind a park in the woods. There was a large, smooth rock at the edge of these woods by a creek. Jacob carved our initials into one of the tree trunks.

We would lay together on the rock and kiss, nothing more, nothing less.

Until that one day.

It was just like any other park date. We stepped off of the paved trail and trekked off into the woods to our rock, pausing only to look at the markings he had made on the tree. We laid down on the rock like we always do, and true to routine, we began to kiss. This time was different.

This time, he shifted and flung one leg over mine and nearly laid himself on top of me. This made me a little nervous, because I couldn’t get up. I was mildly claustrophobic, and having no area of escape made me uneasy. I pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on kissing him, forgetting everything else until I felt his hand slide up my shirt.

His hand continued until his fingers were brushing against my bare breast. A shockwave of alarm broke through my thoughts of his lips against mine. I pulled away slightly and told him in a quite but firm voice to please stop. My repeated pleas fell upon deaf ears, however, and he continued, whispering to me that I had nothing to fear. He wouldn’t hurt me. He loved me.

It was the time that saved me.

I heard the alarm on my phone, and he pulled away and got off of me, allowing me to sit up. “I have to go, dad is expecting me,” I said as I looked at the digital numbers.

He shrugged and nodded and walked me to my car.

We broke up a week after that, and two used spoons and bowls, still marred with melted orange liquid, appeared in the sink for mother to wash.

I cried until I fell asleep. This is how I was able to sleep those next few days. I never could think of guys the same way. I was nervous around all of them because I felt that they all wanted what my ex-boyfriends had wanted.
It wasn’t so bad, being single. I could hang out with my female friends and flirt with my guy friends without the pressures of having a boyfriend. My guy friends didn’t like me, though I must admit I had a crush on one or two of them. They all loved Annette, but for a while that was fine with me. Even though I liked some of my guy friends, I didn’t feel ready for another relationship. I was too afraid to love someone the way I had loved Jacob. I was afraid I would be disappointed all over again. Annette had been there through it all and helped me to recover; me and her became as close as sisters.

I remember once when she and I were talking about our futures and what kind of husbands we would have. I told her that I could see her as a famous actress with a business man as a husband. They’d both make a great deal of money, obviously, and they would live in a big, ritzy mansion in New York or some other large city. She’d have two kids, a gothic, rebellious son, and an older, preppy daughter. Annette told me that that is exactly what she wanted, and I honestly told her I could see it happening. When she asked what I saw for myself, I responded that I could see myself in an two story, old farmhouse out in the country with a dog and a computer.

Yes, I was going to be alone, and I was beginning to feel it wouldn’t be so bad.

Then I met Abel.

Abel was tall, slightly pale, black haired and blue eyed, and had just the right amount of muscles. He wasn’t bulky, and he wasn’t skinny. He was perfection in human form. I had dreamed once that I had a guardian angel, and in the dream, that angel had looked exactly like Abel did.

By this time, I was well into my first year at college. When I saw him, he took my breath away. I nearly leapt out of my seat and yelled at him from across the room that he was my angel and mine alone. Turned out that I didn’t need to do that at all. He had seen me around the college even though I hadn’t seen him before, and we soon started to talk to each other.

We seemed to click right off the bat, and we soon were dating.

Days became weeks, weeks turned to months, and months to a year. We were inseparable. After a happy year together, I felt secure and safe in the belief that he was really the one. I could imagine no other. He never touched me in a disrespectful way, he held open doors, he pulled out chairs, he was a singer, and he wrote songs for me. Everything was like a dream.

I let my guard down, and I let myself fall madly in love with him.

Naturally, as we got closer, I began to bring him along when me and my family and friends went on outings together. Annette and him immediately became friends, and exchanged numbers. They talked and hung out almost as much as me and him did, and all of us together were the happiest group there ever was.

Then it happened.

It was a normal Friday night at the mall with Annette, Abel hadn’t been able to come because he was babysitting his younger sister while his parents went out for their anniversary. I had offered to stay with him and little Kristen, but he had told me to go ahead and go out with Annette and to have a good time.

Annette and I were sitting in the food court, finishing up our pizza when she sighed softly and sadly. I glanced up at her, immediately concerned about her. She was always so wild and energetic, but that night she had been very quiet and thoughtful. I knew something big had to be going on, so it was with great trepidation that I asked. “What’s up, Annette?”

She didn’t look up at me when she answered that nothing was up, and I was not fooled. It took several minutes of nagging for me to finally get her to talk and what she said when she did talk took my breath away.

“I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll get mad,” She said with a shrug, her eyes locked onto mine.

I shook my head in disagreement. “I promise, I won’t get mad no matter what it is.”

"Leslie, I think… I think I’m in love with Abel!” She blurted out then covered her mouth with both of her hands as if she hadn’t really meant to tell me.

Everything faded away, and in place of the open food court and Annette sitting in front of me with a blaring orange sherbet ad hanging behind her, in its place was Abel. It was as if I were watching one of those Lifetime movies, only I couldn’t change the channel or cut it off. I had to sit and watch helplessly as the memories rolled in front of my eyes like a montage.

How could I have not seen it before?

Those looks they shared. The casual touches, the smiles, the laughs, the hugs, even the occasional kiss on the cheek that I had brushed off. I might have missed it then, but I was sure seeing it all now. I felt my eyes beginning to burn as I was struck with a wretched epiphany.

"Leslie!" She yelled, and I was brought back to the present, to Annette. I blinked. It was all I could do not to burst into tears then and there. "Is everything okay? I’m sorry, this is why I didn’t want to say anything." She murmured guiltily.

“No, I’m fine! I just felt a little dizzy. I always get that way during my period.” I lied. I hadn’t even started my period that month, but a small lie was the least of my worries. God would forgive me. He would understand. “In fact, Annette. I’m feeling kind of sick. I think I should call it a night.” I could feel my dinner rushing back up my throat even as I choked out the words.

"Oh, that’s fine!" She said nodding. "Are you sure it wasn’t because of what I said?"

“I promise! Don’t worry so much!” I laughed, though to this day I really don’t know how I managed it.

"Okay, well. I think I’m going to hang out here for a little while, is that okay?" Annette said with a nervous smile as she glanced down at the face of her watch.

“Don’t you need a ride home?” I asked with a frown. After all, I had driven her up there and it was getting pretty late.

"Nah, its okay. I can get a ride. You just go home and feel better! Get some ice cream, maybe that’ll help." She advised as she pulled out her cell phone and began punching in numbers rapidly.

I felt like I was going to vomit.

Even though I was out of high school, I was still living with my parents, so I received a bunch of questions when I got home. Did I have a good time? How was Annette? I answered the questions as quickly as I could then rushed into my room and locked the door.

For a minute, I stood there, leaning against the door in silence. When I finally moved, I trudged over to my nightstand and grabbed my cell phone, dialing Abel’s number. I wanted to talk to him and to hear him say that he loved me and not Annette. I ended up talking to just his voicemail. I asked him to call when he got the chance, but for some reason, I knew he wouldn’t be calling that night.

We had been dating for a year and a half when he made the phone call that dreary Sunday, two days after I had left him the message, and he asked me to meet him at the old Fisherman Park that night. He said he had something to talk to me about.

It had been raining that afternoon, the grass was still damp, but the air was warm. The moon was full and beautiful, and the stars were winking at me as they whispered secrets to one another. I was wearing faded American Eagle blue jeans and a black, zip up hooded sweatshirt that I had purposefully gotten in a size or two too big. I liked them to fit big. My blonde hair was hanging in waves against my shoulders. My dark, brown eyes were fixed on the sky.

As I walked beneath one of the trees in the abandoned, old park, it sprinkled raindrops on my face. They ran down like tears across my cheeks.

I found him sitting on a picnic table in the middle of the park, and I stopped. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I wanted to prolong what I was sure was to be a dreadful conversation for as long as I could.

I let my eyes wonder numbly over the rusted merry-go-round and the forlorn slide. Gray puddles had formed in the sandbox, and the swings were eerily swinging to and fro without occupants.

"Leslie?" I heard him call to me, and it broke me from my thoughts. I looked up, but I did not move. He walked to me, that beautiful smile brightening his face so that he seemed to shine like the very stars above us.

He truly was an angel.

I felt like dying.

“Leslie, the reason I brought you out here, is because I have something very important to talk to you about.” He said as he lead me to a dry bench that was resting inside of a small gazebo that was located just beyond the swing set.

“Yeah, just… what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked shakily as I sat down.

The small box in his hand answered that for me. I began to cry with joy as he sat beside of me and opened the box, the ring glistening in the dim light.

He did love me! I wasn’t going to lose him after all. Quite the opposite, I was getting him forever. I was sure this was going to be the happiest night of my life. That is, until he began to talk.

“I got this for Annette.” He whispered, his eyes fixed on the small diamond. My smile slowly vanished, and I stared at him for a moment in disbelief before I asked him to repeat what he had said.

“Excuse me?” I whispered, not trusting myself to try to say anything more.

“Me and Annette have gotten really close, Leslie. I know this is hard to hear, but I think I love her. I want her to marry me.” He continued talking, but I didn’t hear anymore after that. I couldn’t breathe. I stood up and walked from the bench, outside of the gazebo and stepped onto the squishy, damp grass.

I was trembling, and I couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down my face like rivers. Oh, God. I thought to myself. Why did You create the heart? Why did You allow such pain? Why couldn’t this just be a dream?

“I’m really sorry, Leslie. I hope we can still be friends.” He had stepped up behind me while I was crying, and I felt his hand against my shoulder. His words shattered me, and I felt a physical pain tear through my chest as I fought back another sob.

It was during those few moments of silence before he apologized again that I somehow forced a smile. “I love you, Abel, and I love Annette. I want you both to be happy.” My voice was thick from tears, but he seemed to think that I was telling the truth. That I was really okay with what he was doing. He tilted my face up and kissed me. My whole body was shaking when the kiss ended, and I watched him as he walked away.

I stood in the park until I couldn’t hear the hum of his car anymore. Then, and only then, did I go back to my car and drive back to my house.

I didn’t hear from either Abel or Annette again until they called to announce their wedding.

The months of preparation passed by in a hazy blur.

I was a bridesmaid at the wedding, and I smiled and congratulated them like a good friend should. I could see in Abel’s eyes a happiness and love that I had never been able to spark in him, and Annette was indescribable. She cried, she laughed, she never let go of Abel. I immediately knew that this was how things were meant to be, but it didn’t make it any easier.

It all brought me to this point.

Rain was falling that night. It was a soft, whispering sort of rain. The kind of rain that reminded me of that day in the park.

I was sitting on the couch in my living room, wearing my Snoopy pajama pants, a tank-top, and a black jacket that was slipping loosely down my shoulder. A blanket was draped over my bent legs, and a container of orange sherbet ice cream was nestled in my lap, a spoon protruding from its open top. In front of me, scampering across the television screen, was a happy couple.

I switched the channels, but the story was the same no matter what I watched. People always got happy endings; they always ended up with a significant other.

Flicking the television set off in annoyance, I flung the remote control to the coffee table and watched as it skidded across the surface and knocked into the pot of a small plant that ornamented the table. For several moments, I just stared at the remote as if it was the reason for my unhappiness. Fumbling blindly for my spoon, I glanced to the portrait on my entertainment center in a shelf above my television. It was picture of Annette, Abel, and their kid.

It had been about a year or two since they had been married. Abel had gone into business, and Annette had been discovered by a vacationing movie director on her and Abel’s honeymoon to California. She was now filming in Australia for her role in a new adventure movie. She had a little girl resting in her arms in the picture. That girl was named Paige, and she, even as a baby, was wearing designer clothes. I had just gotten a call earlier that day that had informed me that Annette was pregnant again, and it was a boy.

When she wasn’t filming, Annette and Abel and their gorgeous little girl lived in a huge house in New York.

So, Annette had gotten what she wanted. What I had predicted she would get.

As for me, a month after that cold, lonely, rainy night, I moved into my current house. An old, two story farmhouse that sat nestled among fields of golden wheat and tall grass. Abel and Annette had given me a collie as a house warming gift.

I named her Faith.

That night, sitting alone on the couch and staring at the picture of Annette and her family, I made a decision.

The next morning the orange sherbet lay in the trash can.