The Past Needs No Looking Back, Pain Left Behind

The prize voucher in my hand read Rockies Six Days, Five Nights, Two Travelers.

On the companion line I'd written Neil Delgado's name in neat, careful print.

I'd earned this trip: six straight months without a single day off, the year's best design proposal, and the company's reward for it.

I was about to head into security when Karen Swanson came through, hooked on Neil's arm, walking fast toward the first-class gate.

She pressed her face against his chest. "Neil, you're so good to me. I'm not intruding on your alone time, am I?"

Karen dropped her head and bit her lip, her voice going smaller and smaller, but her fingers held tight to his sleeve.

"What if Felicity Henson sees us later, though? She'll be jealous. I don't want you two fighting over me."

Neil ruffled her hair, soothing. "Don't be silly. So what if she sees?"

"I know her better than anyone. Once the plane lands, a couple of soft words from me and she'll fall right in line."

Six years together. Every time I said I wanted to stand on that alpine lake up in the Rockies, Neil told me the Rockies were too far, the tickets too expensive.

And now, without so much as a blink, he'd bought Karen a ticket. First class, no less.

That was the moment I finally understood.

It wasn't that the tickets were too expensive. It was that I wasn't worth it.

Three people made for a tight fit. This trip, I just wouldn't go.

I took out my phone slowly and dialed HR.

"I'm not going on the Rockies trip. Convert it to cash instead."

...

"Sorry, Felicity."

"The company already submitted it. It can't be changed."

My chest went tight around the phone, and the arms I'd wrapped around myself pulled in another inch.

Neil had just finished pacifying Karen. He turned and came straight for my phone, his tone edged with accusation.

"Felicity, I've been looking for you all over, and here you are on the phone telling someone you're not going?"

"This is the trip you've been dying to take. I put in for annual leave early just to come with you. What in the world is it now that you're not happy about?"

"If it can't be refunded, then it can't. A perfectly good trip, and you have to go and make everyone miserable."

I turned my head toward where Karen stood, tears close to falling.

"You know better than anyone how long I worked to earn this trip. I didn't want anyone else on it."

Maybe he realized he'd gone too far, because Neil reached over and pulled me in by the shoulder.

He murmured in my ear, "Karen just lost her job. The doctor says she has depression."

"Getting out and about will be good for her."

"Besides, Karen isn't just anyone. You've always been the understanding one."

"I figured you wouldn't mind, so I brought her along."

Every time it came to Karen, the childhood friend he'd grown up with, he pinned that same tall label on me: so understanding.

Calling it discussing it with me was generous. It was closer to being told.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn't say a word.

Neil half-coaxed, half-dragged me through the boarding gate, and before he left he dropped a kiss on my forehead.

"Good girl. Once we land, I'll make it up to you properly."

That line again.

On Neil's tenth birthday, his father brought home a soft, simpering woman.

The next day, his mother filed for divorce without hesitation and never came back.

The day the mistress moved in, he flipped the dinner table over.

Ever since, the thing Neil hated most was a woman who played helpless.

So in all our years together, anything around the house I could handle, I never troubled him with.

A bulb burned out, I climbed the ladder and changed it myself.

The toilet clogged, I put on gloves and cleared it myself.

To anyone who'd listen, Neil praised me: so easygoing, so sensible, so capable.

In first class, Karen sat by the window, Neil on the aisle side beside her.

He fitted a pink neck pillow around her throat and reached up to smooth the loose strands of hair by her ear.

The next second he pulled a black Gucci cashmere scarf from his bag and draped it over her.

That scarf was the one I'd saved three months for, twelve hundred dollars, our third-anniversary gift for him.

For half a year, I'd stayed up every night on overtime, racing to finish proposals.

Eyes fixed straight on the screen, never sparing myself a moment's rest.

Over time my neck stiffened worse by the day, and my shoulders with it, until every movement hurt.

When the weather turned cold, it hurt even more.

Turning over at night, my neck and shoulders felt like needles going in, and the pain pulled a sound out of me.

"Hsss..."

Neil slid one arm around my waist and rubbed my shoulder with the other hand.

"It's just work. If you can't manage it, do less. I'll buy you a neck pillow one of these days."

The "one of these days" he promised never came.

And the neck pillow he bought never came to me.

"Felicity. What a coincidence."

Karen tilted her chin up, her makeup flawless, her whole face lit with satisfaction.

I didn't answer. My steps stopped as if my legs had turned to lead.

Neil gripped my hand tight, glanced up at me, and gave a small shake of his head. It meant: don't make a scene.

"Mm." My voice came out hoarse.

The passengers at the cabin door surged forward all at once, and before long I'd been pushed back to the row by the wing.

The first-class curtain slid shut with a hiss, and my line of sight was cut clean off.

The plane took off soon after. I clenched my teeth and held tight to the armrests on both sides of the seat.

My neck ached worse than before. "Sss..."

I'd thought that after all these years I'd long since gotten used to it, but the bitterness still rose up in me.

Five hours later, the plane landed. The late night was faintly cold.

Half an hour passed and the car still hadn't come. Karen, in her sundress, was shivering.

"Felicity, is there a heavy jacket in your suitcase?"

When I didn't respond, her eyes went red, and she started sniffling quietly like a startled little rabbit.

Neil stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking down at me. "Karen's talking to you. Are you deaf?"

I said flatly, "The size is wrong. It won't fit her."

Neil wouldn't let it go. "She doesn't mind that you're bigger. As long as it keeps her warm."

Karen choked out through her sobs, "Don't blame Felicity, I'm the one who insisted on coming. I'll leave tomorrow."

The car came. Neil pulled Karen against him.

He opened the door one-handed, and the two of them climbed into the back seat together, the door slamming shut.

Neil barked at me, "Get in!"

The driver kindly loaded all my luggage into the trunk.

I got into the front passenger seat, and the moment my neck settled against the headrest, I let out a breath.

The car started moving, and my mind drifted.

Ever since I was a child, I got carsick easily no matter what car I rode in, if I was in the back seat.

Exhaust fumes, the smell of gasoline, the stop-and-go crawl, all of it left me miserable.

But whenever I sat up front, I never threw up.

Neil used to tease me, "You, you were just born to be pampered."

Later, he got into big tech, and ate all three meals a day at the office.

Every day he stayed until the very last group left.

Every time I told him to rest more, he'd ruffle my hair.

His voice gentle: "Silly. Leave a little later and the cab fare gets reimbursed, plus overtime pay. Way more worth it."

Soon, the day the project bonus came in, he ordered a new car.

The day we picked it up, the salesman had stuck an oversized pink bow on it, my favorite kind.

He held a bottle of champagne in one hand and me in the other, and jerked his chin toward the front passenger seat.

On the passenger side was a sticker he'd written himself: "Felicity's Seat."

Even now, he still remembered to leave the front seat for me.

But in the rearview mirror, Neil held Karen tucked tight against his chest.

Karen nuzzled her nose lightly against his face, the two of them nearly mouth to mouth.

The instant our eyes met, hers were full of provocation.

My stomach heaved all at once.

"Driver, stop the car..."

The car hadn't even fully stopped before I bolted for the grass at the roadside and threw up violently.

It was a long time before the cramping in my stomach finally eased.

I'd thrown up so hard the mess had splattered everywhere.

Tears and snot smeared my whole face, rank and salty.

Only once I'd caught my breath a little did Neil slowly get out of the car and twist open a bottle of water.

I cupped the water over my face, scrubbing hard at the corners of my mouth and my chin.

Neil's voice went off right over my head.

"Didn't I leave the front seat for you?"

"I really don't get it. Who are you putting on this show for, throwing up like that on purpose?"

"Do you have any idea, Karen's nerves are shot right now, she reads into everything, and you"

I lifted my head and stared hard at Neil.

My face was ghost-white, and my eyes were red enough to frighten anyone.

3: 3

Neil looked at my face and froze. His mouth opened, then closed again.

He let out a long sigh, lifted me back into the front passenger seat, and buckled my seat belt for me.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. I never once looked at the back seat again.

The scenery outside the window rushed past.

I raised a hand to my cheek. It was wet.

After I'd calmed down a little, I unlocked my phone.

I deleted Neil's name and number, and changed the hotel booking so it was under my name alone.

The car pulled up in front of the hotel. Karen took his arm and walked into the lobby with him.

He tossed a line in my direction. "Don't forget the suitcase."

It didn't take long to check in at the front desk.

I took the key card and my ID from the clerk with both hands, turned, and headed for the elevators.

The moment Neil saw that, he pulled Karen along and hurried after me, only to have a security guard step out and block their way.

"I'm sorry, the two of you haven't checked in yet. You can't go up."

Neil's brows drew tight. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, I stared at them and let the elevator doors close.

Faintly, from inside the elevator, I could still hear Neil and Karen's voices.

A moment later, Neil's call came through. I pressed answer.

A wave of fury poured through the receiver and burned against my ear.

"Felicity! What's the meaning of walking off on your own without a single word?"

I answered flatly.

"Oh, I forgot to mention. Book your own hotel room. My company isn't reimbursing it."

Maybe it was my cold tone that set him off, or maybe it was losing face in front of Karen, but Neil wouldn't let it go.

"I'm counting to three. Get down here right now and book another room."

"Otherwise, don't even think about me forgiving you."

Karen's aggrieved little voice leaked out of the receiver.

"Felicity, I know you can't stand me, and I can leave. But Neil is your boyfriend..."

When I didn't react, Neil's face went red.

"Felicity, I'm giving you one more chance. Otherwise I really will be angry and ignore you."

Beep, beep, beep... I hung up and switched to airplane mode.

Neil listened to the busy tone in his receiver, his face full of disbelief.

Early the next morning, sunlight poured over the snow-capped mountains outside the window, a sheet of pure gold.

A post from Karen popped up on my social media feed.

Inside a hotel room, Neil lay at the edge of the bed, the faint trace of lipstick showing on his shirt.

The caption read: "It feels so good to have someone who loves you."

I put my phone down. My stomach turned.

I hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving for a long while before it eased.

Once it settled, I picked up a pen and crossed Neil's name off the family-member line of the prize voucher.

The guide tagged me in the group chat: "When are we heading out?"

After a while, I typed a few words but hadn't sent them yet.

Neil tagged me: "About yesterday, I won't hold it against you."

"Get down here already. There's a limit to acting out. Today's schedule is tight, and everyone's waiting on you."

"Ha ha~"

I stared at my phone screen and laughed out loud.

So it turned out that when a person is truly speechless, they can actually laugh.

The whole way there, the air inside the car dropped below freezing.

The van ran west along the interstate highway, from Denver to the alpine lake.

More than three hundred miles, the road cutting through desert and scrubland, over stretches of red rock badlands.

Every view along the way could have been a phone wallpaper with a single careless shot.

At noon, when we stopped to eat, Neil ordered lamb skewers and lamb rib pilaf.

"Karen, if there's anything else you want, just order it."

Karen hooked her arm through Neil's and pouted.

"Thanks, Neil. How did you know these are all my favorites?"

Then she jerked her chin toward me. "Felicity's still sulking. Go on, cheer her up."

Neil shot me a glance. "Boss, three more of the cream-topped yogurt."

A little while later his message popped up on my phone.

"Take a lesson from Karen. You're a grown woman and still this childish."

"Making a sick person look after you instead. Aren't you ashamed?"

I closed the chat and laid my phone face down on the table.

The food came out fast, and Karen snapped photo after photo of the dishes.

Neil was amused by her.

"This is that thing you girls always say, the phone eats first, right?"

Karen nodded, saying she'd never had carrots before, that they were so sweet.

Then that the lamb ribs smelled amazing, the best she'd ever eaten.

Seeing I hadn't touched my chopsticks in ages, she picked up a piece of lamb rib and set it in my bowl.

I lowered my eyes and, the next second, passed it to Neil.

Neil took a bite of the lamb rib. "Let her go hungry. If she doesn't want to eat, don't make her."

"She can eat once she's come to her senses."

"I've been spoiling her too much lately. Her temper just keeps getting worse."

But he'd forgotten. I never eat lamb. The gaminess.

Stomach acid rose up my throat, and I bit into a piece of flatbread to force it back down.

Farther on we passed the canyon bridge, and Karen waved excitedly for the guide to stop the car.

The slope below the overlook was thick with soft green grass.

But half a step farther, the turf simply ended and dropped away into a canyon with no bottom in sight.

Karen leaned in close to Neil, opened the video on her phone, and pointed at the slope. "Neil, look!"

"I saw a ton of people online filming check-in videos out there. It looks so cool."

Neil raised his phone, his voice gentle. "Then stand carefully. I'll film it for you."

Karen wheedled. "No, I want Felicity to film me. You straight guys don't have a clue."

Neil hesitated for only an instant before he pushed me toward the slope.

My legs went weak and I dropped into a crouch, leaning back, gripping the grass on the ground for dear life.

Neil's brows drew tight. "It's just a video, a few seconds. She's sick. Bear with it."

I'm afraid of heights. Even looking down from a second-floor balcony makes my legs go soft.

Neil knew that.

Before, he always kept me on the inside, away from the edge, his big hand locked tight around mine.

Telling me he was there, not to be afraid.

But whenever Karen was around, everything about me stopped mattering to him.

Seeing me sit there frozen on the ground, face white, Karen burst out laughing.

Then turned around and let Neil, the clueless straight guy, film her after all.

He crouched, then half-lay on the ground, all to get her a better shot.

Karen clutched his hand, watching the video he'd just taken, bouncing on her heels.

"Not bad at all. I honestly didn't think you'd be this good at filming, Neil."

"God, I'm so jealous of you, Felicity."

I looked at this man in front of me, dazed.

Before, every time I pulled out my phone at a meal, he thought I was embarrassing.

Every time I wanted him to film something to remember, his whole face turned to distaste.

"I really don't get you girls. What's there to film? Such a hassle."

Watching the two of them, the longer I looked, the tighter my chest closed.

So I just shut my eyes and pulled on my sleep mask.

When the car started moving again, I no longer knew.

At three in the afternoon I woke to find we'd already reached the alpine lake.

The moment the car stopped, Neil got up and pulled open the door beside me.

A wave of cold poured into the car, and I shivered, clutching my collar, shaking all over from it.

The alpine lake sits over six thousand feet up, and on the climb the temperature had dropped ten degrees in an instant.

I stood, took the down jacket I'd packed out of the trunk.

But Neil snatched it away and draped it over Karen's shoulders.

"Karen's frail. She left in a hurry and didn't bring a coat."

"You're healthy. You can tough it out."

"The wind will do you good, clear your head."

I froze, staring at Neil, shaking with rage.

My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms.

Every fraction harder I pressed, the sharper the pain grew.

In that moment, it hit me that these six years of love had meant nothing at all.