He steps closer, and for a moment, our eyes meet. His gaze is warm, and friendly, with that spark of curiosity that I remember from years ago.
I swallow, trying to keep my expression neutral, though my mind is racing. I know him, know the sound of his laugh, the way his hand feels when it rests on my shoulder. I know what it feels like to share my life with him, and what it feels like to lose him.
"Nice to meet you," he says, offering his hand to my mother then my father, Liz, myself then my twin.
When I shake his hand, I hope he cannot feel the tremor in mine. "Nice to meet you, too." Then he excuses himself and returns to the bar. Smoothly.
"My son says he is studying not working and so he doesn't want to burden his mind he said, with work things yet," Kinda laughs explaining and her husband smiles proudly as well.
I never knew Gabe was like that. The Gabe she knows is serious which is similar to this she supposed. The rest of the dinner passes in a blur. I keep stealing glances at Gabe, unable to fully believe that he's standing there, right in front of me. I wonder if he'll remember this meeting in the future and if he'll ever realize that this was the first time we actually met. But right now, he's just a guy, standing with his parents, polite and friendly, with no idea of what lies ahead.
After the meal, he does rejoin us and a few minutes later the 'adults' excuse themselves to go into another room. Drinking, I suppose. Liz is chatting away with her friend whom I guess she was waving to earlier, along with the other children. Two teenagers and a boy who looks to be around ten and bored. But I am not Superman to save him and so I leave him to his boredom, besides it's Gabriel.
Minutes go by in silence when Avrielle nudges me, smirking. "Wow, you're blushing, Meg."
I shoot her a look, trying to mask the heat creeping up my cheeks. But Gabe seems unfazed, probably chalking it up to the simple shyness of being younger, after all, he is four years older than me. "So, you're in college?"
"Yeah," I reply, struggling to keep my voice steady. Why had I assumed he was speaking to me and not Avrielle? We are twins. It's obvious he would be talking to us as a unit- typical human behavior, though we both attended differently. But why did I assume he spoke to me? My cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
But his face lights up. "Yeah? What's your major?" His chin that I told him countless times displays the little dent he had. A slight cleft.
"English," I say automatically, the same answer I've given countless times before. But this time, it feels surreal, like I'm playing a role I already know too well. But I feel the need to detail it more since he loved the idea of it years ago- well years to come. "Media. I want to get into screenwriting."
He nods. "I'm doing finance. My dad thinks it'll keep me out of trouble," he says, laughing a little. His voice is easy and confident, with none of the guardedness I remember from later years.
The Gabe I knew smiled and laughed of course but he seems carefree now. In the future, it's like he is hollow if I compare him to now.
Was it me that caused his reserved attitude? Our loveless marriage?
Linda steps in, placing a gentle hand on Gabe's shoulder. "You'll have to excuse him if he talks too much. He's got a lot to say about finance these days. MBA is hard work."
The ease of their family's dynamic tugs at me, and I feel a sharp pang of nostalgia. My only memory of them is being aged and solemn. Sick. I glance over at my parents, who are returning with amused smiles. Ah, the power of alcohol.
Preparing to leave, Gabe catches me by the door. "Hey, Megara," he says, a small, shy smile on his face. "It was really nice meeting you tonight. I hope we run into each other again sometime."
I nod, my heart hammering. "Yeah… me too."
He turns, and I watch him walk back toward his parents, his shoulders relaxed, his gaze free of any of the heaviness I've always seen in him before. I feel the strangest urge to call out to him, to say something that might make him look at me the way he used to.
Gabe and were not in love but we had an okay marriage. We had communication and warm smiles.
I know, eventually, that we'll marry. But that decision won't be born from love. And while it had not before, I feel a dull ache in my heart about it.
Years from now when I meet Gabe, it would be after his father is diagnosed with cancer, and his mother falls into a depression so deep that his parents barely speak words. I remember Gabe telling me once that his mother wanted nothing more than to see him settled down, married with a stable life. She was haunted by the fear of losing both her husband and her family's future in one fell swoop.
That is the story of our marriage.
So Gabe will marry me, as much out of a sense of duty as anything else. We'll build a life together is what I assumed. It is what I wanted after my split with Jeremy, I wanted nothing like dating ever again and Gabe's marriage proposal brought stability. Shortly after our wedding, Gabe's father will pass away, and his mother will follow him only months later, her heart giving out piece by piece until she's gone, too. By the time we're fully alone, Gabe will already be pulling away, his gaze drifting to the past, and to someone else entirely mere months before our fifth year of wedded bliss.
But tonight, none of that had happened yet. Tonight, Gabe was smiling like the perfect strangers we were.
He pauses his movement, and I see him take out his phone and answer a call. The walled mirror shows me the way he smiles at the person on the other end.
My heart aches. That had to be Cassandra.