Evening Wind Returns to Shore, Peaceful Years with Howard

Phil Swanson's childhood sweetheart dumped a bowl of scalding soup all over me.

Then she clutched her wrist and cried harder than I did.

Phil frowned. Kayla Pruitt, why did you flinch? Now you've burned her.

I looked down at the blisters rising on my arm.

He handed me a napkin. Just apologize and we're done. Don't make a scene.

Something in me went quiet. It wasn't worth it anymore.

"Phil."

I slid off the ring and set it on the table.

"Go be with her."

He froze.

As I turned to leave, I heard him soothing her behind me. "Stop crying. I'll make her apologize to you, all right?"

That night I moved out.

The next day he was waiting outside my office. "Are you done throwing your tantrum?"

I opened my phone and showed him the photos.

Him and Sarah Winfield, kissing at a bar.

The color drained from his face.

"Last Friday you told me you were working late."

I smiled.

He came after me and grabbed my wrist.

I pulled free. "Don't touch me. You're filthy."

He stayed where he was and didn't follow.

Later I heard from friends that he'd turned the whole city upside down looking for me.

He still wears that ring on his little finger to this day.

But I'd already changed my number.

And I'd already found someone new.

The scalding soup splashed across my arm.

The skin flared an angry, searing red almost at once.

Across from me, Sarah let out a shrill "Ah!" and cupped her own wrist.

The tears came on cue, falling prettily down her face.

"My hand, it hurts so much..."

Phil sprang away from my side and rushed straight to her.

He seized her wrist, turning it over anxiously.

"Where did it burn you? Let me see."

Sarah's wrist was as fair as ever, with only a few stray drops of soup on it.

My arm, meanwhile, had already begun to bead with fine blisters.

Phil finally spared me a single second of his attention.

His brows drew together.

"Kayla, why did you flinch? Now you've burned her."

I stared at the raw line of blisters spreading across my arm, the pain coming in waves.

So it turned out I was the one who flinched, and that was why Sarah got burned.

He didn't even ask if I was hurt.

Phil pulled a napkin and tossed it onto the table in front of me.

"Just apologize and we're done. Don't make a scene."

His voice was thick with impatience.

As if I were the one being unreasonable.

Ten years.

I'd stood by him for ten whole years.

From our school uniforms to a wedding gown, all we were missing was the ceremony.

And yet, in ten years, I'd never once managed to matter more to him than this "dear sister" of his.

The sting on my arm was nothing next to the cold spreading through my chest.

It wasn't worth it anymore.

Really.

I looked at him calmly, at the worry and the blame in his eyes.

None of it, not a trace, was for me.

Slowly, I slid the diamond ring off my finger.

He'd only proposed to me last month.

I had once thought it was the happiest moment of my life.

I set the ring on the table and pushed it across to him.

Metal met tabletop with a small, crisp click.

"Phil."

My voice was very calm.

Phil froze, as if it hadn't sunk in yet.

Even Sarah's crying stopped for a beat.

I stood and picked up my bag.

I didn't spare either of them another glance. I just turned and walked out.

The hot pot restaurant was as noisy as ever, but everything behind me felt like someone had hit mute.

At the door, I still caught Phil's voice.

He was coaxing her.

"All right, all right, stop crying. I'll make her apologize to you, okay?"

My steps faltered for a second.

Then, without looking back, I walked out into the rain.

That night I didn't go back to the home we shared.

The bridal home I'd spent a year decorating with my own hands, plastered with "double happiness" cutouts.

I called a moving company and hauled every last thing of mine out that same night.

My friend Joy Sullivan drove over to get me, and when she saw the state of me and my swollen arm, she cursed him up and down.

"Phil, that dog! Kayla, you put up with way too much! If it were me, I'd have dumped that whole pot of soup over both their heads!"

I didn't say anything. I leaned against the window and watched the street lights streak past.

Ten years of putting up with it. That was enough.

Joy settled me in at her place, then dragged me to the hospital to treat the wound.

The doctor said it was a second-degree burn, and if it wasn't treated in time, it would scar.

The gauze wound around my arm coil after coil, like a white shackle.

I didn't sleep all night.

At daybreak, I sent Phil my last message.

"Let's break up. I've moved my things out. I wish you and Sarah a long and happy life together."

Then I blocked him and deleted him.

All in one clean motion.

The next day, when I got to work, Phil's car was parked outside the building, just as I'd expected.

He was leaning against the door, worn thin, dark shadows under his eyes.

The moment he saw me, he stubbed out his cigarette and came over.

"Kayla, are you done throwing this tantrum?"

He grabbed my arm, hard.

His grip hurt, and pain shot through the burn.

"Let go."

"Come home with me. Stop being difficult."

His tone was still so certain of itself.

As if I were only sulking, waiting for him to come coax me back.

I looked at him, and suddenly I laughed.

I took out my phone, opened the album, and held it up in front of him.

On the screen was the photo of him kissing Sarah under the dim lights of the bar.

The man handsome, the woman coy, the whole image glaring.

Phil's face went white in an instant.

That flicker of impatience in his eyes finally shattered into panic.

"This is"

"Last Friday, you told me you were working late at the office. That you had a meeting all night."

I stated the facts, calmly.

That day was my birthday.

I'd made a whole table of food and waited for him until the middle of the night.

At midnight he sent a message saying he couldn't get away.

He'd attached a photo of a conference room.

Thinking back now, that photo was some old picture he'd dug up from who knows where.

Phil opened his mouth and couldn't get out a single word.

The panic in his eyes turned to dread.

"Kayla, listen to me, it's not what you think, she'd had too much to drink"

That excuse again.

It was always Sarah had too much to drink, Sarah was in a bad mood, Sarah needed someone with her.

I put my phone away. I didn't want to hear any more.

"Phil, we're over."

I stepped around him to go.

But he came after me again, catching my wrist from behind.

This time he grabbed the hand that wasn't hurt.

His palm was hot, trembling faintly.

I wrenched free.

"Don't touch me."

I looked at him, one word at a time.

"Filthy."

The word seemed to nail Phil where he stood.

His outstretched hand froze in midair, every trace of color drained from his face.

I didn't wait any longer. I turned and walked into the building.

It was only inside the elevator that I noticed my own hand was shaking too.

The burn on my arm had started to ache again.

I went to the restroom and splashed cold water on my face.

The woman in the mirror was pale, but her eyes were calm.

Ten years of love, like a high fever, had finally broken yesterday.

The process had hurt, but I was clear-headed now.

At noon I didn't go to the cafeteria. I ordered delivery.

Picking it up, I saw a figure both familiar and strange.

It was the doctor who'd treated my burn the day before.

He was in a white coat, probably dropping something off nearby.

He recognized me too and gave me a nod.

"How's your hand?"

"Much better, thank you, Doctor."

"I'm Howard Barnes." He introduced himself, his voice clean and clear. "Change the dressing on schedule, and keep it dry."

"I will."

He seemed about to say something more, but his phone rang.

He gave an apologetic smile, answered it, and walked off.

I carried the food back to my desk with a strange feeling inside.

Like a thread of sunlight breaking through days of steady rain.

That afternoon, Phil came again.

This time he stood at the entrance holding a huge bunch of red roses, drawing looks from everyone passing by.

I left through the side door.

He started calling and texting me like a madman.

I ignored it.

That evening, Joy told me Phil had asked her for my new address.

"I cussed him out and told him to get lost." Joy was seething on the other end of the line. "He's got the nerve to come looking for you? I heard that little snake Sarah has already moved into your new place!"

Something jabbed at my heart.

That home I'd put together piece by piece was someone else's cozy little nest now.

"Good," I said. "Saves me from hiring someone to scrub out every trace of me."

I thought Phil would lie low for a few days.

I didn't expect that on the third day he'd show up at my new place.

At Joy's home.

He stood at the door, eyes bloodshot, defeat coming off him in waves.

In his hand was breakfast from my favorite place.

"Kayla, let's talk."

His voice was hoarse.

I blocked the doorway and didn't let him in.

"We have nothing to talk about."

"Just five minutes." He was nearly begging.

Looking at him like this, I felt nothing at all.

"Phil, you didn't used to be like this."

The old him was proud, confident, never bowed his head for anyone.

He gave a bitter smile.

"You took all my pride with you."

What a joke.

"Your pride, didn't you hand that over to Sarah long ago?"

I threw it back at him coldly.

"Every time we fought, you went to her. Every time she called, no matter what I was doing, you'd rush right over. One time I had a fever of a hundred and two, and you left me home alone to go pick her up at the airport, because she was just back from overseas. Phil, have you forgotten?"

All of this I'd swallowed before.

I always thought he only saw Sarah as a sister.

I always thought the most important place in his heart was saved for me.

Now I could see it was nothing but fooling myself.

Phil's face grew whiter and whiter.

"I"

"Just go." I cut him off. "I don't want to see you again."

I moved to shut the door.

But he suddenly threw out a hand to brace it and forced his way inside.

"Kayla, I was wrong, I really was wrong!"

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

"Give me one more chance, one last time!"

His grip was brutal, and he shook me until the room spun.

The wound on my arm slammed into the doorframe, and the pain shot through me.

I hissed in a sharp breath.

"Let go of me!"

"No! Not until you agree!"

He was like a madman.

Just then, a figure stepped in front of me.

It was Howard.

He was dressed in casual clothes, a medical kit in one hand.

He must have come to change my dressing.

Howard seized Phil's wrist, and with the smallest pressure forced him to let go of me.

"Sir, please let go of this woman."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a force that left no room for argument.

Phil looked at him, froze for a second, then rage flared in his eyes.

"Who the hell are you? This is between us. Get lost!"

"I'm her doctor." Howard shielded me behind him. "And she doesn't look like she wants to talk to you."

"Doctor?" Phil sneered. "Looks to me like it's more than a doctor and a patient. Kayla, you don't waste time, do you? Lined up the next one already?"

His words cut like knives.

I was shaking with fury.

"Phil, you bastard!"

"I'm the bastard?" He jabbed a finger at Howard. "You're dumping me for some pretty boy? What were our ten years worth?"

I couldn't believe those words had come out of his mouth.

Howard's face darkened too.

"Sir, watch your mouth."

"I need you to teach me?" Phil lost it completely and swung a fist straight at Howard.

I screamed.

Howard reacted fast, twisted aside, and in the same motion locked Phil's arm behind his back.

Clean, no wasted movement.

Phil struggled, still spitting filth.

"Kayla, it's for him, isn't it? Tell me!"

I looked at how crazed he was, and all I felt was that he was a stranger, and pathetic.

"Yes."

I spoke. My voice wasn't loud, but it reached his ears clearly.

"I did it for him, all right? Now you can get lost."

Phil went still.

He stared at me in disbelief, his eyes completely shattered.

Howard glanced back at me too, something complicated in his look.

I ignored it and only repeated: "Get out."

The strength seemed to drain out of Phil, and Howard pushed him out without effort.

I slammed the door shut.

The world was finally quiet.

I leaned against the door and slowly slid down to the floor.

Howard crouched down and looked at me.

"Are you okay?"

I shook my head, then nodded.

"Thank you."

"Did he hurt you?" He pointed at my wound.

A little blood had seeped through the gauze.

"It's fine."

He opened the medical kit and silently tended to the wound again.

Disinfect, medicate, wrap.

His hands were very gentle.

"Just now..." He hesitated. "When you said that, you were doing it to make him angry, weren't you?"

I didn't look at him.

"Does it matter either way?"

He said nothing more.

The only sound left in the room was the faint rustle of him unwinding the gauze.

After a moment, he said quietly: "Sorry, I didn't mean to overhear the two of you..."

"It's fine." I cut him off. "I'm the one who should apologize, for dragging you into this."

"I don't mind." He said. "If you need it, I can go on playing your 'next one' anytime."

I raised my head and met his clear eyes.

There was a faint trace of a smile in them.

My heart skipped a beat.

......

Phil didn't come looking for me again.

But it wasn't over.

A week later, the company suddenly brought in a deputy director from outside, and she happened to be over our department.

It was Sarah.

She walked into the office in a sharp business suit and heels, radiant and full of herself.

When she saw me, the smile at the corner of her mouth widened.

"Kayla, long time no see."

The coworkers were all whispering.

No one knew about me and Phil, and even less about the history between me and Sarah.

All they knew was that the new deputy director was young and pretty, with an impressive background.

Word was she was a relative of the big boss at headquarters.

I knew this was Phil's doing.

He couldn't come himself, so he sent Sarah.

This was meant to torment me.

Sure enough, the first thing Sarah did after taking the post was hand off one of my important projects to someone else.

Her reason: "Kayla hasn't been in a good place lately. Let her handle some simpler work first, get herself back on track."

She dressed it up in high-sounding words, and no one in the office dared object.

I'd been on that project for almost half a year. Every bit of my effort was in it.

And now she'd lifted it away, light as a feather.

I went straight to her office.

"Sarah, what's this supposed to mean?"

She sat behind the wide desk, unhurriedly stirring her coffee.

"Kayla, mind your attitude. I'm your superior now."

"I'm asking you about the project."

"Oh, that project." She set the coffee cup down and smiled. "I don't think you're the right fit, so I swapped people. Is there a problem?"

"You're taking petty personal revenge."

"And what if I am?" She stood, came around to me, and dropped her voice. "Kayla, you think breaking up with Phil means it's over? Let me tell you, as long as I'm here, you can forget about having an easy day."

Her eyes were full of smugness and challenge.

"Don't forget, Phil's company is the biggest client this department has. One word from me and your numbers this year are finished. And when that happens, guess who the boss keeps, you or me?"

I clenched my fists.

She wasn't wrong.

Phil's company held the lifeline of our department.

"You think this is how you get rid of me?" I sneered. "You're underestimating me."

"Is that so? Then we'll see."

Sarah turned back to her seat and stopped paying me any attention.

I came out of her office and ran straight into the department director.

The director looked at me, his face pained.

"Kayla, Deputy Director Winfield means well for you. That project of yours... just set it aside for now."

I knew he was under pressure too.

I didn't say anything and went back to my desk.

I opened my computer, and the screen filled with the countless versions of the plan I'd made for that project.

It felt like a wad of cotton was stuffed in my chest.

In the days that followed, Sarah found every way to make my life hard.

Either she'd send me to make hundreds of copies of pointless documents, or she'd dump tasks on me that couldn't possibly be finished.

The coworkers all saw it, but none of them dared to speak up.

Some quietly advised me to either put up with it or leave.

I didn't want to leave.

I'd earned my place at this company on my own. Why should I leave just because of her?

That night I worked late.

By the time I finished the report Sarah had kicked back for me to redo five times, I dragged myself out of the office tower, worn to the bone.

It was almost eleven.

I stood at the curb waiting for a ride when a black car pulled up in front of me.

The window came down. It was Howard.

"Working late?"

"Yeah."

"Where to? I'll drive you."

I gave him Joy's address.

Soft music played in the car.

"You've been exhausted lately?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

He didn't press. He just drove in silence.

As we neared the building, he suddenly spoke. "If the job's making you unhappy, you can always find another one."

I paused.

"A friend of mine is hiring. The position's about the same as yours now, and the pay might even be a little better. If you're interested, I can ask around for you."

Warmth spread through me.

"Thank you, Howard. But I want to hold out a little longer."

He glanced at me and nodded.

"All right. If you need help, come to me anytime."

The car stopped at the foot of the building.

I unbuckled my seat belt, about to get out.

"Kayla." He called me back.

"Yeah?"

"Are you free this weekend? I'd like to take you to dinner. Call it... a thank-you for giving me the chance to play the hero."

He said it half-joking.

I looked at him and couldn't help but smile.

The gloom of the past days felt like it lifted a little, chased off by that smile.

"Sure."

My date with Howard was a good one.

He didn't pick some upscale restaurant. Instead he took me to a quiet little place that served home-style dinners.

We talked about a lot, from work to hobbies.

I found we had so much in common.

Like how we both loved old movies, both liked keeping succulents.

With him, I felt relaxed.

It was something I'd never felt with Phil.

With Phil, I was always careful.

I had to manage his moods, bend to his tastes, and stay braced at every moment for one of Sarah's "sudden situations."

I lived like an accessory to someone else's life.

But with Howard, I could just be myself.

After dinner, he drove me home.

A familiar car was parked downstairs.

Phil leaned against it, a cigarette between his fingers, a scatter of butts thrown all over the ground at his feet.

When he saw me getting out of the car with Howard, his eyes turned dark in an instant.

He tossed the cigarette and came striding toward us.

"Kayla."

His gaze locked on me, as if he wanted to swallow me whole.

Howard stepped forward and quietly moved me behind him.

"Mr. Swanson. It's late. Is there something you need?"

"I'm here for my girlfriend. None of your damn business!" Phil roared.

"She isn't your girlfriend anymore." Howard's tone stayed even.

"That's not for you to decide!"

Phil reached out, trying to grab me.

Howard blocked him.

"Mr. Swanson, control yourself."

"Control myself?" Phil laughed like he'd heard the joke of the century. "Ten years I've had with her. Who the hell are you? Kayla, get over here!"

I stepped out from behind Howard.

"Phil, are you done making a scene?"

"Me, making a scene?" He pointed at Howard, then at me. "The two of you, out this late, doing what? Dinner? A date? Kayla, you fell fast, didn't you?"

His words were cruel and cutting.

I was shaking with anger.

"What I do has nothing to do with you. Please don't come harass me anymore."

"Harass?" He laughed at himself. "I care about you, and that counts as harassment? Kayla, what is your heart even made of? Ten years between us, and you just throw it away?"

"You threw it first." I looked at him and said it word by word. "Every time you dropped me for Sarah, when you kissed her, when you poured soup all over me and still made me apologize. That's when you threw us away."

Phil's face went white.

His lips moved. He wanted to say something, but no sound came.

"Go," I said. "I don't want to see you again."

I took Howard's hand and turned to leave.

Phil called my name behind us, a thread of desperation in his voice.

"Kayla! Don't go! I was wrong! I really was wrong!"

I didn't look back.

Only once we stepped into the stairwell did I let go of Howard's hand.

"I'm sorry. I've made a fool of myself in front of you again."

"Is he always like this?" Howard asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to call the police?"

I shook my head.

"It won't help. He'd only make more of a scene."

Howard was quiet for a moment.

"Kayla." He spoke suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to... move?"

I froze.

"Move in with me." He looked at me, his eyes serious. "My apartment has two bedrooms. You take one, I take the other. Pay whatever rent you think is fair."

I hadn't expected him to say that.

"That's... too much trouble for you."

"It's no trouble," he said. "I just don't want to see him harassing you anymore. Of course, if it feels awkward to you, then forget I said anything."

I looked into his sincere eyes, and something in me wavered.

If Phil kept this up, it really would affect Joy.

Moving was the best choice.

But moving in and living with him...

"Don't worry." He seemed to read my hesitation. "I won't do anything to you. I just... want to protect you."

That last part he said very softly.

But my heart gave a hard, heavy thud.