Travis took me to a private house party that night. It was hosted in a six-bedroom house owned by one of the guys he knew from one of his classes. They served alcohol. We shouldn’t be drinking, but I figured that Travis was with me, a few glasses of margarita wouldn’t hurt. But I didn’t realize I have very low alcohol tolerance, I think I almost passed out after my fourth glass. Travis decided it wouldn’t be good for me to come back to my dorm looking witless, and he thought it was better for me to spend the night in his apartment. I think he was right.When I woke up again, it was already afternoon. I slipped out of bed and went to Travis’s luxurious bathroom to take a shower. I put on the same jeans I had worn the day before and the extra halter-top I could fit into my bag before I left home.I was trying to zip the back of my blouse, but somehow the zipper was giving me trouble.“Damn it!” I cursed. The thing about li

Two years later, my parents’ divorce was finalized. My mother would take permanent residency in Manhattan; my father would station himself in Boston. No battle for custody—I was already of age. My parents decided to give the house to me instead of selling it and dividing the profits between them.I was angry. My parents had decided to abandon the house…the happy house where Thomas and I had grown up! Where they last saw Tom! I refused to let the memories go. They could divide all their properties except this house…I could not believe they were walking away from it and all the memories it had.I was in my room, and as always, I decided to channel my emotions onto the canvas. I didn’t know what I was painting. But it was a mixture of dark blues, blacks, violets, swirling around in angry patterns. I was on the brink of crying. That day marked the end, not just of a chapter of my life, but of a whole story.I swirled the violet paint

We had a dance show the next day. Before going to the theater, I dropped by Chris’s apartment to pick up some of my stuff. I’d left some of my dance clothes at his place.He wasn’t there, but the girl named Alana was. I was tempted to ask her what she was doing in Chris’s apartment, but I guess I didn’t have to be a genius to guess that.I was even more heartbroken than I was before. We’d been broken up less than twenty-four hours, and there was already another woman in his house.Sarah was close to berating me for showing up a few minutes late.“I dropped by Chris’s apartment to get my stuff,” I said, motioning at the box on the floor.“Wow! That does not look good!”I laughed humorlessly. “It doesn’t. But I can’t think of that now! I need to dress up!”I focused on my dance pieces. I had one with Sarah and some guys. It was a contemporary piece

In the mornings, I made sure I was up to make coffee for Travis before he left for work. I did his tie and helped him put on his suit.He smiled at me. “You’ll do a good job at being Mrs. Cross,” he teased. “I’m beginning to get used to this.”I laughed. “And who said you were difficult to live with?”Travis rarely came home at eleven in the evenings anymore. Most of the time, it was earlier than that, and we had dinner together.One night, he came home late and I had fallen asleep on the living room couch waiting for him. When I woke up again, I was already back in the bed with Travis snoring quietly on the couch.I had a chat on the phone with Karl one Friday night. He warned me that Travis was in a foul mood. He’d had a meeting with his father, and it didn’t go well.“Like how bad?”“Really bad. Travis was pushing his father to the wall, making him realiz

I went to Travis’s office on Monday. Since Karl wouldn’t be in, I volunteered to help him out in case he needed assistance. But when I got there, I was the one surprised. There was an easel at one corner of his office, and the coffee table had a box of Godiva chocolates and a bouquet of roses on top of it.“Is it always like this?” I asked him, looking at the lovely roses.He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I have a special visitor today. I thought she’d like to indulge in a box of sweets.”I laughed and turned around so I could face him. “And the easel is for?”He smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist again. “So you can paint or draw and leave me alone to my work.”“I can paint at home—why did you agree that I come here if you weren’t going to need me anyway?”He shrugged. “I just want you to be here.” He hugged