Sam had listened on quietly. Occasionally his eyes widened, and he quirked his brow, but otherwise, his reactions weren't exaggerated. This made him the perfect person to confide it; something Lizzy appreciated greatly as she recounted her dilemma.
"Wow," he exhaled once she had finished. He stretched out his legs, resting his hands on his knees. Lizzy tugged on the windswept piece of her hair.
"What am I supposed to do, Sam?"
"I can't answer that," he said simply enough. "Unfortunately, it's not my job to tell you how to live your life and with who."
She shook her head forlornly. "Yeah, I can't expect that from you. Things are pretty messed up. Didn't think this is how life would turn out, but alas, here we are...."
"It is quite bizarre," he told her, appearing to mull over her words. "So it turned out that the friend I once asked about was in fact Lawrence Osborne's son, of all people. And because he knew your identity, you feel that your entire relationship from the start had been a lie."
"You don't hold back," Lizzy said weakly in response to his summary. Her attempt at a chuckle sounded pathetic even to her. Silence settled in. For a moment Lizzy felt regret for overloading Sam with this information. She was about to apologize when she noticed the look on his face. His features gave it all away. It was evident that there was something he wanted to say.
"Sam, what is it?" she coaxed him gently, noticing that he seemed to battle with himself.
"Does your friend, Tarryn, know about any of this?" he was his eventual question. His seemingly random question sent a sense of foreshadowing through Lizzy.
"No, I haven't spoken to her about this yet," she answered.
Sam dipped his head. "I saw her at David's grave a little while back. I think she goes there often..." he let his words trail off, as if he was testing Lizzy's scope of knowledge.
Lizzy felt a guilty pang at the mention of the grave. Furthermore, Tarryn's involvement in the topic was puzzling. She looked at him quizzically, sensing that there was more to this, and that she was meant to notice.
"Is there something going on between you two?"
Sam looked at her as if she had just told him that he was growing a second head. Muttering an out of character curse word, he then told her that he needed to get something off his chest. Lizzy listened. As he spoke, various puzzle pieces she hadn't even been aware of began falling into place. Sam's story explained all the excuses and absences Lizzy had overlooked. Underneath the shelter of the tree that peacefully swayed with the wind, Lizzy learned that the accident occurred as her fiancé had been on his way to indulge in one last fling before the Big Day.
"I've been meaning to tell you. The timing never seemed to be appropriate, and now here I am, adding to your load." He frowned. "It's just never going to feel appropriate. I mean, David was your fiancé and she was going to be your maid of honor."
Sam shook his head, as if aghast at the very words coming out of his own mouth. Lizzy felt her hands quivering. She almost envied the leaves that blew by, begrudging their simple existence. She shook her head, momentarily giving into denial. Although she would have liked to disregard what he was saying as mere gossip, this was Sam. His word was solid. Upon recovering his brother's belongings, he had checked through David's phone in hopes of informing his contacts of the proceedings. It was then when he found a series of texts that had transpired for months as far as he could tell.
"She was at the service, I'm sure I saw her with you. I looked for her to ask her about it. She was in such a state that she basically confessed, but after that she rocked up at the house and made me swear not to tell you."
Lizzy bit her bottom lip anxiously. She couldn't bring herself to believe this; it was like one betrayal was piling on top of another. She had half a mind to demand to see the texts for herself. However, she knew she wouldn't have been able to bear it. Sam's word was enough. Tarryn's behavior, both in retrospect and recently, spoke far louder than a confession.
"I'm sorry about this, Lizzy, really."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Sam."
David was disloyal. The notion caused a lump to form in her throat. She closed her eyes, conjuring up the image of David enraptured in the whirlwind of a repetitive fling with a particular individual. The very individual who seemed more defensive of his memory than anyone else; an individual who frequented his grave more than his own brother. It was insane. But when she thought about it, there was enough clues that alluded to it all along. She had simply been so starry-eyed and naive that she had been blind to reality. On the day of the fitting, while she stood in a pretty gown, missing the presence of the two important people in her life, those two individuals were on their way to enjoy each other's company.
Sam let out a weary sigh. "This just made me realize how truly twisted life can get. Here I was, thinking things were already downhill for me, but then there's you and all of this convoluted rubbish you have to deal with."
He seemed really upset. In a gesture of empathy, Lizzy gave his hand a light squeeze. She asked if he wanted to talk about it.
With a reluctant shrug, he elaborated, "Remember the time you asked about my mom? Well, turns out she's not doing so well at all actually. She's getting sick more often and she's convinced the primary cause is because the house contains too many memories. So, it seems that she's planning on selling. Ha, ha. Didn't even bother asking my opinion on it, but whatever. There's only so much in life one can control. Past, present, and future. Do you get what I'm saying, Lizzy?"
"Typical Sam," she muttered. "You took your one chance to vent and suddenly turned into life advice."
Sam laughed humourlessly. She looked at him, someone who should have been at the peak of his carefree college life. He should have been spending his Friday with friends and fun; not listening to the sob story of a drama-prone twenty-seven-year-old. However, she could already see the frown lines gaining permanence in his face. They both agreed that at the present moment life truly sucked. Sam excused himself, having assignments to take care of. She offered him an awkward pat on the back before leaving.
Wrapped up in her blanket, Lizzy sat in her favorite spot on the couch thinking about the weight that had been on Sam's shoulders. In hindsight, he had always been trying to tell her; in his gestures, in his expression, and in the times, he hovered nearby in silence. Unlike Chase, it was obvious that Sam had at least appeared to want to bring things to light when the opportunities arose.
The mere thought of her supposed best friend involved in a recurring fling with her fiancé sickened Lizzy immensely. She didn't even want to think about how long it had been occurring behind her back. Most of all, Lizzy felt like the world's greatest fool. Not only had she been blind to the people around her, but she repeated the same mistake unknowingly when she let Chase into her life.
Despite his words, she felt that she couldn't trust him. She wondered if he had struggled as hard as Sam did to come clean. She wondered if Mrs. Richter knew anything about Tarryn. Her mind scrambling in search of hints, however, her memory was clogged with rising concerns. She wondered when Tarryn was going to tell her, if at all. Lizzy read her past messages with Tarryn since the funeral. She hadn't realized how strained their friendship had become; how much longer the duration between replies were spaced.
She thought about David, the person she would have spent her life with. She wondered what he would have said about this, wondered how their future would have played out. Deception seemed so rampant. Had people always been this way? Lizzy stopped her thoughts in its tracks... she was over thinking again and that never lead anywhere good.
With a sense of urgency, Lizzy shot upright and stormed to her room. She ducked under her bed, dragging out the dusty box. She threw open the lid and dug in deep to pull out the headdress and the gown. She wasn't going to be needing them. The wedding outfit was an embodiment of that time, of that day. She wasn't sure whether she would put it on auction, sell it online, or give it away. Clinging to it was purely sentimental and painful.
Meeting Sam didn't provide her with the direction that she needed, but she did come to realize one important thing. She couldn't be this silent individual while the universe and majority of the people in it seemed to like playing tug of war with her heart.
She couldn't allow it. She closed the box and placed it on the living room table.
She needed to say goodbye. For good.
It was almost hysterical how perfectly planned her life once was, back before it all went awry. She was filled with such frustration that she very seriously considered letting go of everyone in her past completely. Ever since their fallout, Lizzy had committed to ignoring all the calls and messages from Chase. His attempts decreased in frequency after she turned her phone off for the weekend. On Monday, she hadn't caught a glance of him near the boutique. So far, he hadn't ventured to turn up at her house either, despite knowing where she lived. Lizzy had mixed feelings about that aspect. However, she was relieved to know that even his persistence had a threshold.
Now, Lizzy found she could only cling to at least one last thing: her career. Although work provided a welcoming distraction, Lizzy felt that the brooding atmosphere followed her into the den of activity that was Flourish. Those around her could sense that something was off, more so when she walked in and placed the wedding dress on Shauna's work desk. Everybody kept whatever comments they had to themselves and carried on as usual, something Lizzy was grateful for.
Still, aside from the hurt, she felt an innate longing welling up from within her. This feeling followed her from her apartment to the workplace and to the streets that she ran through. In the days that followed, she felt with increasing intensity that something was missing— and it wasn't David. She wasn't aware of when her feelings had manifested, but somewhere along the line her bond with Chase had gone from nuisance, to casual acquaintance, to something more. He had brought light and laughter into her life, reigniting the flame she once had. For that, she was grateful, but she couldn't stand the idea of it all being a farce. It was difficult not to jump to that conclusion when it seemed like the only explanation for him having anything to do with her in the first place.
Lizzy speculated whether heartbreak upon heartbreak was how some people ended up as hermits with no trust in humanity. Sam seemed like the only one around who could offer the sympathy and understanding she needed, knowing full well what she was dealing with. However, Lizzy didn't want to burden him with her baggage any further. He had a life of his own. She hadn't ventured to contact Tarryn at all, hoping to test and see whether the brunette would notice her absence.
It wasn't very long until Tarryn reached out with a succinct invitation. Lizzy's fury ebbed and flowed as she sorted out random items of clothing all while thinking about Tarryn's text. Lizzy's first inclination was to delete the message. But, something inside her pushed her into accepting. That afternoon, Lizzy realized how much of a masochist she truly was when she replied to Tarryn's request.
I'll be there. See you then.
It had been a while since their last meet-up. Tarryn was easy to spot wearing her formal business attire; a sleek black skirt with a white shirt. Tarryn seemed to avoid her gaze, causing Lizzy to confirm to herself that the friendship was definitely strained. Or rather, Lizzy realized it had never quite been the same for a long time already.
It became clear that Sam had run into Tarryn, hence the seemingly out of nowhere invitation. With a reticent heart, Lizzy went along, walking through the rows of gravestones until they reached one of interest. The cool breeze sent goose bumps across Lizzy's exposed arms.
Tarryn was the first to break the stifling silence. "I'm sorry, Liz," she said. Lizzy didn't like how much people had been apologizing to her lately. "There's really nothing else I can say. I... We didn't want to hurt you."
Hearing these words come from her supposed best friend caused a bitter taste to form in Lizzy's mouth. Still, Lizzy clung tightly onto the threads of her maturity as Tarryn more or less confirmed that Sam's story was true. There really was nothing that she could do. A fight would lead to nothing but ugly bruises. She felt she should have raged and shouted at Tarryn, maybe even blame her for having arranged to meet up with David on that day. But with blame being split up in so many directions— fractured so crazily— Lizzy found it difficult to point her finger to one person, despite the strong desire to.
"Do you miss him at times? I know you've moved on with someone else, but do you think about David?"
The way she had phrased her questions grated on Lizzy's nerves. Tarryn didn't deserve to know anymore about her life.
"Of course, I think about David. I've been thinking about him a lot these days especially," Lizzy admitted. Without going into the details, she told Tarryn that she was no longer in contact with the guy she had been seeing. She elaborated no further, keeping the details to herself. She couldn't bring herself to find a strong enough reason to confide in her friend. They stood there in front of David's headstone feeling tense and uneasy. Like two strangers. It was evident that both women realized that there was too much bitterness and resentment on both sides to salvage their friendship. It seemed very likely that this catch-up session would be their last.
"Does he know about David then?" Lizzy remembered the question Tarryn had once asked her.
Her expression clouded. She didn't even need to tell him. He knew. He had known all along.
And that thought more than anything was far more painful than standing at the grave of the man she once loved alongside the friend she once cherished.
