The Armistice
His head was turned toward the teenager in beige capri pants. He sat back in the steel mesh bench. The mall was busy. The bench was below the escalator. When he turned back, Lille was standing over him.
"Still window shopping?" she asked.
"Lille," he stammered, "I was..."
"...whatever. Why did you want to see me. Frank told me I shouldn't come here today."
"You told your lawyer you were seeing me."
"Of course I did," she said.
He pursed his lips and nodded. "Sit down, Lille."
"Why?"
He sounded resigned. "I just wanted to talk to you."
"Why?"
"Look," he said, "this has nothing to do with the divorce...I mean, it does, but I think the lawyers have made us enemies."
"It wasn't the lawyer who screwed that..."
"...I know, I know," he interrupted, "we made ourselves fight, but it was the lawyers who made us war. I was hoping we could put that aside for a moment and just talk. I know what you say I did. I know what I say you did. But there was a time we could just talk."
"What are you thinking?" she said as she turned to walk away.
"Lille," he said as he stood and grabbed her arm.
"Let me go!" she shouted.
He released her arm. "Lille," he pleaded, "please, just talk to me. Tomorrow, the lawyers are going to help us kill our marriage. There is no way to save that. I just wanted a chance to save the good times."
"The good times?"
"We had nine years together. Most of that time was good. If we don't try to resurrect them, all we may remember is this final war. I don't want to think that all that time we were building toward a disaster."
"There would have never been a disaster if you didn't have a need to..."
He cut her off softly, "...I was hoping this would not be a time to blame."
"The lament of a guilty man."
"Lille," he said as he sat back down, "I don't want you to forgive me now. I don't want to excuse myself, or spend time explaining what I did. You loved me once. And I loved you. I want to give you back those times. I want to let you know that no matter what happens tomorrow, there was a time in history that we were good for each other."
She stood motionless. She stood above him and tried to understand what he was saying.
He continued, "Do you remember the night we wanted to sleep up Dead Oak Canyon? Remember we brought the CDs and batteries and forgot the bugspray?"
"That was your fault," she said as she sat down and smiled as she remembered.
"I was going after romance."
"...a near hit," she said.
"We ended up both curled up inside your sleeping bag."
"That was a direct hit. Do you remember dressing up for Saigon? We bought tickets for both our parents. Who were we trying to impress? They hated each other."
"...and the play."
"...and the play," she repeated. "How did we both end up so cool when we came from such square stock."
"I think I made you cooler," he said, gently punching her arm.
"...not even."
"Remember when we tried to buy that Pontiac? We were just married and had no money."
"They ran a credit check," she said, "and we both sat in the dirty office knowing there was not a chance in hell we would ever qualify."
"Do you remember the look on that guy's face as he walked back into the office with the printouts. We smiled like we had no idea we knew what he knew. God, that was funny."
"You told him we looking for a new car, and that money was no object. Poor guy."
They wandered over to the food court and had lunch. He bought the food and she bought the Orange Julius. They revisited nine years of memories. They went back to the wire mesh bench.
"Do you remember the time you went to Denver for that conference," he asked.
"Yeah," she answered.
"You came back on a Tuesday. You were gone six days. You came back on a Tuesday."
"Yeah, I remember."
"You came to my office when you got into town," he said, "You were wearing that tan jacket, dark blue jeans and a red turtleneck. I had missed you so. I remember knowing you were coming in, I sat watching the hallway." He swallowed hard and started blinking. The words were becoming harder to say. "Then I saw you. My throat hurt. I swear it hurt. I was so happy to see you. I loved you so much. I loved you while you were in Denver, I loved you on the road home, I loved you when we talked long distance, and I loved you every night sleeping with your pillow...but there is no way I can tell you now how much I loved you when I saw you in that hall that day. I have never had that much emotion. I would have died that day had you not walked down that hall. Honest to God, I would have died...I would have just died."
She wiped tears off his face.
"You were off with Paul," she told him, still stroking his face. "Mariners game or something. I knew where you were, and I knew you were having a great time, but I sat in the bay window and waited for you to come home. I wanted to read, so I got a book; I wanted to listen to some music, so I put in a CD; I ended up sitting in the dark watching the cars go up and down the street. Each set of headlights would set my heart pounding, then release the pressure when they turned out not be yours. The CD ended and the book was set down on the floor. I sat with my stocking feet pulled up under my knees and missed you. I cried for you that night. I cried because I loved you so much. When you finally came home, I jumped off the bay window and ran to the sofa. When you came in, I didn't let on how much I missed you. But I did. When you said you would have died, I know what you mean. I almost died in the bay window. When we made love that night, it was like you were not just inside of me, but you were all of me. I was finally one with you."
There was silence. The mall crowd scurried by them, loud and always in a hurry. Finally, Lille spoke, "I really should go."
"I know," he said.
"I guess I should say thank you."
"Thank you," he said, "and I'm sorry."
She nodded. "I know you are."
"I'll walk you out," he offered, "where you parked?"
They started toward the exit. He wanted to hold her hand or put an arm on her shoulder. He couldn't know that she wanted the same thing. They walked through Mervyns. The aisle was crowded. It pushed them together. He stopped and gently grabbed her arm.
"Lille, listen," he said.
"What?"
"Listen...the music..." He looked up toward the ceiling. He found the speaker grill. He pulled her into the the perfume area. They stood face to face. He pointed up toward the ceiling. "Do you recognize this song?"
She strained her ears. "Oh, yeah," she said.
He put his hands on her shoulders. "It's Tower of Power, So Very Hard to Go. This was our song." They looked into each other's eyes.
He began crying. She began crying.
What a shame to end a war where there are no winners. This day was to remember what they fought for—Even the defeated deserve spoils.
He gave her a soft kiss and they embraced.
So Very Hard to Go was their gift.
Everyone else seemed to disappear but the two and Tower of Power. They were left to hold on tight to nine years and three minutes and forty-one seconds. Everyone knows the pain of goodbye—the end of the war, but together in the mall, alone with hundreds of strangers, they reclaimed the times that though the battle was lost, the wounds were worth the scars.