By Proxy(59)

“I’m going to walk home,” she said in a small, shaky voice.

He nodded curtly, staring straight ahead.

“Please, Sam. Please say you understand.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jen.” He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t bear for her to see how much he wanted her, how much he needed her. He knew she was crying, but he still stared straight ahead, waiting for her to back away from the side of the car so he could leave.

“I-I’ll see you t-tomorrow?”

He nodded once. “10:25. See you there.”

He rolled up the window and drove away from her without looking back, banging on the steering wheel twice in frustrated sorrow, unfamiliar tears stinging his eyes.





Chapter 9



Today I say ‘I do.’ It was the first thought she had when she opened her puffy eyes, still raw from crying last night. Somehow, probably because the Lindstrom kids were encouraged to “tough it out” in lieu of tears, she had made it through Sunday supper at her father’s house without breaking down. But holding in her feelings for those two hours made the tears flow all the more freely—all the angrier and more frustrated—when she got back to her lonely apartment.

She stretched and heard Casey stir in the kitchen. She checked her clock: 6:45 a.m. She didn’t have to leave for Livingston for an hour and a half.

Thoughts of their final conversation at the arch yesterday made her heart clench. She turned onto her side in bed, drawing her knees up and hugging herself. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to take those vows today. It wouldn’t be so bad if we had just said good-bye yesterday once and for all.

She knew that wasn’t completely true. The vows were only incidental to her pain. Yes, the memory of saying the words to Sam would compound her sorrow once he was gone. But it was his absence from her that would be at the crux of her regret. Their heartbreaking exchange didn’t change Jenny’s feelings for him. If anything, she cared for him more after hearing him share his feelings and voicing her own at the arch. She wanted to see Sam today; she just wished they didn’t have to say good-bye.

She was honest with Sam when she said she had never felt anything like this in her life. The closest word she could think of was “love,” and yet any rational person knew you couldn’t fall in love with someone over the course of a long weekend. Love took months, years even, to develop properly: meeting each other and moving from acquaintance to friendship to courtship. Building a relationship over a series of dates and meetings. Introducing each other to friends and family over time, seeing each other through some of life’s challenges and overcoming them together. Then finally, finally knowing with certainty there is love between you and committing to a marriage. She had only known Sam for three days; it couldn’t possibly be love.

And yet, it felt the way Jenny imagined love would feel. Every free moment from Friday afternoon to now, her mind had been consumed with Sam. When she was without him, she longed to be with him. When she was with him, she yearned for more from him than his presence. She battled a constant, unrequited hunger for more dialogue, more discussion, a return of her increasingly passionate feelings. It felt impossible he should care for her when Jenny had seen the women who populated his life in Chicago. He could have a supermodel by his side, but he wanted Jenny. It made her feel special and cherished, like she was something precious to someone who had his pick of beautiful things and gave him a depth and authenticity which captivated her heart. It was as if he saw through the outward layers of her plainness, beelining with meticulous precision to her heart, which he seemed to see with clarity and regard with…with what, Jenny? Love?

He hadn’t used the word “love” yesterday. He said he had “strong feelings” for her and was “falling hard” for her, but love wasn’t a word he had used to characterize his feelings. He barely knows you, Jenny. He can’t possibly be in love with you.

And of course, when it all boiled down, neither of them was prepared to budge for the other. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She put her hands on her knees, and hung her head in confusion. This can’t be love. It must be something else.

She padded into the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror, touching her lips lightly where he had kissed her on Saturday night. She cocked her head to the side, considering her attraction to him. For the first time in Jenny’s life, her body had come alive, responding eagerly to Sam’s tender touch. Physically, even now, she craved the touch of his hands laced through hers, swiping away a tear with his knuckle, holding her face in his hands as he had yesterday. She burned even more for the heat of his lips on hers, for the touch of his breath on her skin, and simply—pathetically, Jenny—for the comforting warmth of his arms around her, even as she was refusing him.