A moment in autumn

He traced his finger down the cool glass of the taxi cab window. It left a trail in the condensation that had collected there. He had been down this street before, almost always with her at his side. So many trips they had made down this very street. They would laugh and play like school children on their way home from an evening of wine and wild conversation, trips to their favorite places, shopping excursions to get her the new shoes she just must have. He smiled as the memories played through his mind.

He rested his forehead against the cold glass and looked out at the fogged over world beyond the window. Out there was brownstones and stores, people walking their clockwork selves through a clockwork world. So much time, and yet never enough it seems. He opened his jacket, loosened his tie. The cab rolled to a stop at a light. He looked out and saw a restaurant that she had loved. He smiled to himself as he remembered a dinner there. It had been a Christmas Eve a couple of years ago.

They had made plans to see her family out in the suburbs, plans that had fallen through at the last minute. He had worked late, had gotten home later than expected and they had missed the train they were to take out to her families home. She had been very mad as they stood at the ticket counter. Her smooth skin had bunched at her eyebrows, eyes narrow with frustration. He had apologized to her, and she had dismissed it as nothing, but he knew. He could see it plain as day. They had hailed a cab, maybe even this very one that he rode in now.

He had reached out and held her hand, but she had seemed distant. In his heart he had felt bad, but his ego got the better of him. Words were exchanged; loud pronouncements of self importance; of the job, of the family, of the need to earn, of the need to spend good time with loved ones. At a light, maybe even this light now, she had gotten out. She had looked at him with anger then, told him that she would walk home, that she didn’t want to get in the way of his career, or to bother him with the triviality of going to Christmas dinner. The door had slammed, and she had stalked off in the falling snow.

With a sigh he had paid the cab driver, maybe it was this same cab driver, and gotten out to catch her. A block down he caught up to her. He caught her and turned her to him, wanting to finish the fight. Tears rolling free, makeup running, she had looked at him.

“All I wanted was to show them how special you are to Me.” she had said.

All the air went out of him. His ego did the smart thing then and went away and hid. He threw his arms tight around her. His own eyes starting to glisten, he said “I’m so sorry. I didn‘t know”

They had stood, holding each other, letting all the small and insignificant things fall away with the snow. Two people, all alone on the bustling sidewalk, just the two of them together in the whole wide world. He kissed her tears, whispered her importance to him quietly, with love. He stroked her hair, and told her she almost ripped the door off the cab. She had giggled then, said that she was sorry for losing it, and what a wreck she must look like. He smiled at her, told her he would make it all right, would never let her down again.

She stepped into a corner shop to freshen up in the restroom, and while she was reapplying makeup and straightening hair, he had called and made a reservation at her favorite place, their place. He had made her promise to cover her eyes as he took her there. He remembered how she had squealed with glee upon arriving, thrown her arms around his neck and laughed. Later, after their meal, she had asked him how he had gotten reservations on such short notice. When he told her of the amount of money that he had promised to the maitre d', her eyes had gone wide, then she had smiled smugly.

“Maybe next time you won’t be so late.”

“You’re right, I won’t.” he had said with a smile.

The cab moved now as the light changed. The restaurant faded from view as did the memory. ‘Where had all the time gone?’ he thought. It was only yesterday it seemed, but might as well been a lifetime ago. Time had passed, and they had lead a simple life. She had expressed the want for children; he had thought it prudent to wait. Days and weeks and minutes and seconds, all that time ticking, ticking by.

He shifted in his seat, too warm in this cab with all these memories that played across his mind and heart. He chuckled remembering her excitement at a birthday, felt a bitter pang when the ghost of an argument replayed itself with a power that astounded him; such a frivolous thing to waste time on when there had been so many better ways they could have spent with each other.

But now she was gone. It wasn’t his fault, just the way life dealt a hand to you sometimes. Why had he been such a fool, why hadn’t he kept his promise from that night. He ground his teeth, fists balled in his lap at the thought. The cab made a turn, jostling him in his seat. Why had he been such a fool, why hadn’t he made her his wife. Why hadn’t he had children with her; "You be daddy, and I’ll be mommy." she had always sang to him as they cuddled snug in bed on Sunday mornings.

‘Dammit it all and damn me for being so selfish, for being such a fool.’ he thought. The cab hit a bad stretch of road, the roughness a manifestation of his mood, of his heart. He looked back out the foggy window, and dread filled him. All the anger melted away. Everything melted away but that stone sinking dread. ‘Almost there,' he thought, ‘Almost there and that will be that I guess.’

Tick tick tick, time marches on, sometimes you find yourself where you’ve journeyed to, and sometimes you find yourself way off course.

He ran through a checklist in his head as the cab moved down the last few remaining blocks, trying to block out the memory of how she had gone. How she had left him before he was ready for her to go. ‘Dammit, there you go again, being selfish.’ he thought to himself. ‘Got to get yourself together and be strong now.’

The cab pulled in front of the familiar building, the cozy old brownstone that they had called home.

He looked up at the building. He blew out a long pent up breath, paid the cab driver and got out. He pulled his over coat tight around him, made sure not to step in a puddle in his good dress shoes. She would have hated him tracking water or dirt into her home.

‘Just have to go in, handle this as best I can.’ he thought. ‘Don’t make this about me. Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made.’

He stepped to the front door, rang the buzzer. The door opened and there stood her brother. A moment passed as the two men stared at each other quietly. He spoke first.

“Sorry I’m late, should have rode with you guys. Cabs in this city are so damn slow.”

“That’s ok Gary. We thought you may need a little time to get your head together. Come in, this is still your home.”

Gary smiled weakly, said “Thanks Josh. I guess it is, but it’s not the same with her gone.” Tears started to roll freely now. Josh put an arm around him, lead him in.

As the two men entered the living room, all of her family was gathered there. At the sight of a badly broken up Gary, her mother stood and walked over too him, arms wide.

“I’m so sorry.” Gary sobbed. “There’s so much I should have done different. So many things I should’ve told her.”

“Hush now.” her mother said, holding Gary close. “She may be gone, but she didn’t pass away lonely or unloved. She knew you were there with her up to the end. She knew Gary, she knew.”

They stood there a moment. Just two people, all alone in the whole wide world.