Champagne Problems

The winter air was cold, and I could still feel it stinging my skin through my coat as I bumped along the train tracks. The midnight sky flashing by looked blurry through my tears and the warped windows. I could feel my body ache, from head to toe, drowning in guilt. I leaned my head against the frosting window, trying to decide which was worse: to stay there in that house, with my almost-family sleeping peacefully with only thin walls between us, or to be out here among the hustle and bustle of a gloomy Christmas Eve midnight, amid people who also, feel as though they have nowhere to go.

Your face keeps flashing through my mind, your movements capturing my thoughts. It was us, just us, on the landing of your family home. You took both my shivering hands in yours and glued your eyes to mine. My heart flipped, too sure and scared of what was happening next. Through clouds of your breath, you told me you wanted to be with me forever. Those were your words, forever.

And then you knelt down on one knee. And I dropped your hand.

Back on the train, I heard it come to a screech. It was loud and distracting, jolted me right out of my head, but I still just sat there, hanging my head low, drowning, drowning. Down into the details of our lives spent together. I think about that picture of me that you always carried around in your weather beaten wallet. I wince at the image of your mother’s glistening golden ring, covered in snow, hidden away in a velvet box that took refuge inside your pocket all night. The memory of your face is what kills me. You looked at me as though I had taken your favorite glass vase and shattered it right in front of you.

And rather than stay and pick up the pieces, I ran away and hopped on a train. I wish I could’ve said sorry. But, I don’t know if it would have mattered. Even still, I’m sorry.

The thoughts come again, whisking away all my senses, a tornado of feeling without a breeze of relief.

Your family’s faces pressed against the windows from the inside. Your sister’s expensive bottle of champagne in hand, ready to pop. I couldn’t stand to look them in the eyes. When I ran from you, I had to run from it all.

I can’t imagine what you’re all doing now.

All I know is that there was no applause, no holiday cheers, just unopened Dom Perignon sitting on the table with no reason to drink it. I can already hear the whispers of your hometown, this close knit, too nosey community who always suspected we wouldn't last. I didn’t mean to prove them right, but maybe they knew me the most all along.

The overhead speakers from the train blurt out some gibberish. All I hear are your terrible stutters, and the grave look of being denied a happily ever after with the one you thought you loved. I could tell you had a whole speech prepared, could picture you pacing in the early mornings when I wasn’t yet awake and rehearsing it. All that practice, and in one swift motion, with two forced words, I destroyed the notion of me, of us in your head.

“I can’t.” And I couldn’t even tell you why.

I can still remember the day we met, as though it was just this morning. Just two nervous college freshmen, both ready and terrified to start the rest of their lives. I still remember how you would turn everything to gold back then, how no matter what was keeping me down, you would just walk in and I could suddenly find the light.

My coat feels too heavy atop my shoulders now, and I find myself missing the feeling of your warm flannel that you’d wrap around me those cold November days, when you’d make me warmer. You always were the cure. I guess, until you just couldn’t be anymore.

My stop passes by, but I don’t get off this Heartache Express. I want nothing more than to just sit and wallow. My head begins to hurt too much to stand anyway.

We unlocked the door to my dorm and found my roommate making her bed. Later, Rebecca would have to put up with all our late night phone calls and visits. And she wouldn’t mind either.

“Hey, you know, I’ve heard that this dorm was once a madhouse.” The first thing she said to me.

“Well, I guess it’s made for me then!”

We both laughed, back before I let my problems turn me into a problem myself.

I can’t seem to stop the past from rushing in, and so the faces of our friends eventually appear from the back of mind, where I’ve hidden them. We were once so lively, dancing through the woods and partying on Saturday nights, we believed we would never grow old. They were there tonight. They watched me leave you. I suppose I may have left them too.

In reality, I know I have left everything behind. Soon enough, the halls we once strolled through together will be full of noise and laughter again. Our friends, your friends, will get engaged successfully, will get married, and you’ll be invited to their weddings and you’ll bring the girl who said yes. And it won’t be me. And that is something I will have to live with, forever.

The funny thing is, I didn’t even realize how unready I was, until you got down on one knee and asked me. Now, I find myself fearing that I may never be ready, and that I may just have to spend my life watching you go on. I can just imagine what they’re whispering about me, your family and that town, how they always knew I was too screwed up in the head to be a good wife. They somehow figured it out before either of us did, except they couldn’t stop you, no one could, I guess, except for me.

The train comes to a chilling halt. I lift my head and stand, my legs wobbling, my heart sinking. The speakers announce that I must get off, that this is the last stop, and I suppose it is. I step back out into the windy, lifeless night. Merry Christmas Eve to me.

As I hear my own lonely footfalls on the crisp, icy sidewalk, I can’t help but think about you and the girl who will one day say yes. Before I can stop myself, I grab my phone and dial your number.

“Hi.” I say.

You meet me with silence, cold and unforgiving silence. I understand.

“Look, I know you don’t wanna hear from me right now but, I have to tell you-”

I can’t stop the streaming tears once they begin to fall.

“There will be a girl who says yes, okay? It may not be soon and it may not be me, but she’s coming. And-and she’ll hold your hand while you dance with her, she’ll never leave you alone, like I did. She won’t leave you alone on the landing of your family’s beautiful home on Christmas Eve night when you decide that she’s the one. Because she will be the one. Soon enough, it’ll be her picture in your wallet and your mom’s ring is gonna be on her finger and it’ll fit just right.”

I can hear your heavy breathing, but you still say nothing. I keep going because even though part of me wants to cry and hang up and stop making this fool out of myself, the other part of me has to make this right, as right as I can make it after what I did.

“Trust me, please. You won’t even remember me and all my- my...”

“Your champagne problems?” You finally speak and your voice is stiff.

The words sting my heart even though I know they’re true, the truest thing either of us has said all night.

“Yeah,” I breathe and I watch as my breath crystallizes and floats off into the dark night air. “You won’t remember all my champagne problems.”

You say goodbye and I’m left with the beep of the phone. It echoes into the night before me, but I keep walking.

I go on, no longer knowing what’s ahead because for the first time in a long time, it’s not you. And that hurts me but, it finally feels right.

And before I know it, I find myself on the landing of my own sad apartment, crestfallen, the way I left you.