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I was terrified. I had no idea what I wanted. Did I want to stay in our hometown or did I want to move? Did I want to be a housewife and stay-at-home mom or did I want to finish school and get a career and have my own thing? I didn’t have answers to any of my own questions, let alone anyone else’s.
    “The only thing I was sure about was that I was crazy in love with you, and that I always would be. Ironically, that ended up being the most unstable thing of all. I guess I threw myself into planning our perfect wedding because I figured that as long as we were together, the rest would work itself out somehow. Starting our life together, whatever it would look like, was the only thing that gave me peace and made everything else not seem so scary. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you. Filling in the blanks and everything else was ‘wait and see’.”
    Brandon looks like I just punched him in the gut.
    Neither of us speaks for a long time. I have a compulsion to reach out and take his hand and tell him that everything will be okay. But it’s not okay. Nothing about this whole situation is okay.
    I’m mad and sad and completely at a loss.
    Brandon finally speaks. “I’m sorry, Charity, you have no idea. I should have said something. I should have stayed. I should have given you a chance to explain back then.”
    He honestly looks close to tears. I wish I could think of something to say, but I can’t. A long time ago, I mentally boxed up my thoughts and memories of Brandon, and packed them away deep in my mind. Right now, it feels like someone dropped a bomb on that box. Now the contents are scattered in a million pieces, and nothing makes sense. All I feel is chaos. I’ve spent the better part of the last three years trying to move on and to let go of the past, but it seems as though all that work and energy has unraveled over the course of a single conversation.
    I can’t deal with this anymore. I mentally shut the box again and decide to pick up the pieces once I’m alone. Right now, I just need to get out of this situation. It’s claustrophobic.
    “It’s fine. Really. It was a long time ago. We were both young, we both made mistakes,” I say.
    Without giving him a chance to reply, I flick on the radio and scan around trying to find something worth listening to before settling on an instrumental channel with jazzy music. Normally it would give me a soothing, relaxed feel, but tonight I don’t think anything is going to take the edge off. I turn up the volume loud enough to prohibit further conversation.
    Fifteen minutes passes before Brandon reaches out and turns the volume down. “Charity, do you think you will ever be able to forgive me?”
    “I already have,” I say. “It’s been three years Brandon. I’ve moved on with my life, you have obviously moved on with yours.”
    “So, then, what now? Where do we go from here?”
    “There’s nowhere to go. You came, said your piece, and I listened. That was the deal, remember? It’s over now,” I say, my tone frosty, daring him to argue.
    I can process this whole conversation when I get home, back to the safety of my bed, but right now it’s time to put the wall back up and just get this night over with. I feel stupid enough for even getting myself into this situation. It hasn’t accomplished a thing, other than to dig up a lot of feelings I would rather have left buried.
    “That’s it? After all that?” Brandon asks. He seems to be genuinely surprised.
    “What did you expect? What is this really all about? You thought I would just be sitting here pining away for you? Get real Brandon. We have no ties to each other. We’re not together, and we’re not even friends anymore. Haven’t been for a long, long time.”
    I can hear the edge to my voice but can’t seem to curb it.
    “As far as I’ve seen and heard, you’re
some
bazillionaire
, with more money than you know what to do with. You’re
shacked up with some fame-hungry gold