Early morning sunlight poured in like a river of gold through the big windows in the kitchen. Standing by the counter, stirring batter in a bowl. Firm and sure were my hands; elsewhere, my mind.
I had hardly slept a wink since the night before, on my mind was the puzzle of Ethan's face, cold and yet soft, so many pieces missing, my thoughts kept revolving around it trying to think about what the missing pieces could possibly be.
This morning, I did something different, something small but personal. One of the times I spoke with Ethan's mother, she said how much, as a little boy, Ethan used to love chocolate chip muffins. A small thing, perhaps, but maybe it would show him that I cared, that I was listening.
I took the muffins out of the oven and placed them on a plate, sending wafts of the most savory chocolate-laden aroma into the air. My heart seemed to race with the notion that somehow, such meager action could span the breach rapidly widening between us.
I turned and eyed the plate of muffins I had just placed on the kitchen island, oozing the most tantalizing of scents-sweetly warm.
A bitter smile formed on my lips, it was a laughable thought that Ethan would actually care about my little act of love and care. Yet here I was, in this over-the-top marble kitchen, just hoping for one reaction, one smile that would tell me that maybe I wasn't completely invisible to him.
It was maddeningly the way I cared. Several times, I told myself that I did not need his approval and I would make it in this world just without his love. And, of course, every word was a lie. Each time he pushed me away or gave those icy, passionless stares, something in me just shriveled up.
I still wasn't ready to give up on him or this marriage.
My phone burbled loud, its ringing tone echoing; I picked my phone to check the caller id: it was Ethan's mother. I picked up after a moment of hesitation.
"Lila, darling, how are you?" She first asked warmly.
"I'm fine, thank you", I tried to say as lightly as possible.
"It's been a while since you and Ethan have been seen in public, throw a small dinner party, so everyone can see how happy you are together." She said.
A dinner party? I thought. Realizing I was still on the call with her, I responded, "I'm not sure Ethan will be okay….,"
I started off but she interrupted me.
"Nonsense! Call him and speak with him; the dinner party should be held tomorrow. If you need any kind of assistance, let me know dear." With that, she hung up. I sighed, starting to think about what to do, how to convince Ethan, and how to organize the party.
The front door opened, and my heart skipped a beat. I dried my hands on a towel and turned just as Ethan's feet pounded down the hall. The next second, he materialized in the doorway, tall and imposing. His tie was already loosened, and he looked exhausted-but no less achingly handsome.
"Ethan," I said low, my voice catching.
His gaze swung back to mine, then back down to the plate of muffins on the counter. An eyebrow rose. "What's this?"
"I baked them for you," I said, stepping closer, "Your mom mentioned they were some of your favorites when you were younger."
In one instance, he stepped, went slowly into the room. When I blinked , he was already standing a couple inches away from me. His gaze flicked to mine; and for the space of one heartbeat, I could swear that something softened in those features.
He reached out, his hand brushing mine as he picked up a muffin. The touch was brief, but it sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed hard, watching him take a bite.
"They're good," he said in a low voice.
Relief washed over me, and I let a small smile out. "I'm glad you like them."
For a moment, I was certain he would go on, but he turned away from me, his broad shoulders squared.
"Ethan, wait," I said suddenly, my voice trembling.
He paused at the door and faced me, one eyebrow cocked. "What is it, Lila?"
I was silent. My fingers tightened on the dish towel. "Your mom called earlier. She said we should have a dinner party tomorrow. You know, something small and intimate."
His brow furrowed and he turned fully to face me. "Why?"
"She thinks it would be good for us," I said, stepping closer again. My hand brushed against his forearm, lightly, tentatively. "You know, to show everyone how… happy we are."
He let out a low, humorless laugh. "Happy. Right."
"Ethan, please," I whispered, my fingers still resting on his arm. I felt the muscle beneath my fingers tense, but he didn't pull away. "This could be a chance for us. An opportunity to…"
"To what?" he cut in, his tone knife-sharp. "Play pretend? Put up an act that this marriage isn't a farce?"
His words cut deep, but I didn't turn my back. "I am not asking for much," I said with a barely audible tone. "Just one evening. Please."
For a long second, he stared at me, his eyes rummaging in mine. The air was displaced between us, charged with what was left unsaid.
"Well, fine," he finally said in a low gruff voice. "Do whatever you want."
The mansion was abuzz the following day. Workers ran this way and that, placing flowers and positioning silverware, while I darted among them, directing traffic, rectifying minute problems, my nervous tension growing and growing.
I wore an emerald green dress: sleek, fitting, its silky material gliding over my skin in just the right places. I told myself it was just for the party, but deep inside, a small voice was hoping that Ethan would notice.
The first guests arrived right at seven, and I greeted them with a practiced smile. Ethan appeared just behind me his tailored suit fitting him like it was sewn on his body. He joined me at the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we welcomed our guests.
The touch was almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver up my spine.
"You look really beautiful," he whispered so softly that it felt imagined.
I turned to him in surprise, but his face was inscrutable. He turned away before I could reply, and I was left breathless.
The night was a swirl, a cacophony of laughter and conversation. I swam with ease through the sea of faces, my smile plastered on, even as my inner antennae were starkly aware of Ethan. I felt his gaze often enough to know he had watched me more than once, his eyes heavy, intense, as though puzzling me out.
When, finally, the last of them had trickled away, I sat in the living room surveying what was left of the evening. Behind me the clinking of glass brought my attention around.
Ethan stood by the bar pouring himself a drink. He looked up; his eyes locked on mine.
"Well," he said with a sip of whiskey, "that's over."
I crossed my arms over my chest, my irritation boiling over. "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" he returned calmly.
"Dismiss everything," I said, stepping closer to him. "No matter what I do, it's never good enough for you."
He set the glass down, his jaw clenching. "I didn't ask you to try, Lila."
It was like a knife to my chest, cut through, and for the first time tonight, the hurt in his voice took centre stage. "You may not have asked," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion, "but I'm here; trying, can't you see that?"
His eyes softened, for a second. He took a step closer, his hand stroked my arm, a soft caress sending jitters down my spine.
"Goodnight, Lila." He whispered.
Without any word from me, he pivoted and walked away, leaving me standing amidst an empty room, the echoes of his touch still tingling on my skin. I sighed, I had given my all but to him, it wasn't enough.
My cell phone, lying on the coffee table, softly buzzed, catching my attention instantly. I picked it up, frowning when the name on the screen displayed itself-Mom.
"Hello?" I said, my voice no more than a whisper.
"Lila," she said, her tone urgent. "We need to talk."
"Mom, it's late," I said, pressing a hand to my temple. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
"It can," she said firmly. "And it also can't."
Something in her voice ran a shiver down my spine. "What is it?"
"It's about Ethan," she said, "and something else you need to know."
Her words hung in the air like heavy intimations.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice shaking.
There was a silence, then, "Not over the phone. Come home, Lila. Please."
I stared at the phone for a long time after the call was over, my heart pounding in my chest. What could she possibly have to tell me about Ethan? And why did the ground seem to give way under my feet?