Melissa's Side
Chapter 05 - Melissa's Side
Melissa chose a twenty-four-hour diner near the highway.
The booths were cracked red vinyl. A coffee machine hissed behind the counter, and a ceiling fan turned slowly above a row of framed baseball photographs.
Jennifer arrived first.
She wore the engagement ring.
She had tried to leave it in a drawer, then put it back on without understanding why.
Melissa entered ten minutes late.
No gray coat this time.
She wore jeans, a navy sweater, and exhaustion.
Her eyes went to the ring immediately.
Jennifer twisted it.
Melissa slid into the booth.
“You kept it.”
“For now.”
“His grandmother’s.”
“I know.”
A waitress poured coffee.
Neither woman ordered food.
Melissa folded both hands around the mug.
“I’m sorry about the cake.”
Jennifer looked at her.
“That sounds small.”
“I’m sorry about the tables too.”
“It cost eleven thousand dollars.”
Melissa flinched.
“The cake?”
“The reception damage.”
“Oh.”
Jennifer waited.
Melissa stared into the coffee.
“I saw the wedding pictures on Saturday morning.”
“The wedding was Saturday evening.”
“I know.”
“A mutual friend posted the rehearsal dinner.”
Melissa nodded.
“David blocked me from seeing his accounts. He forgot about hers.”
Jennifer rubbed the ring.
“What did you think when you saw it?”
“That I was losing my mind.”
The answer came without drama.
Melissa looked toward the counter.
“He told me the divorce was delayed because his attorney had a scheduling conflict. He said we were still negotiating.”
“Were you?”
“Not really.”
“Then why did you believe him?”
Melissa gave a tired smile.
“You believed him too.”
That landed.
Jennifer looked down.
Melissa continued.
“He kept telling me we needed to stay calm. That the paperwork would protect both of us. That he wanted the separation to be respectful.”
“Were you still together?”
“We weren’t living together.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Melissa’s fingers tightened around the mug.
“Yes.”
Jennifer felt the answer physically.
A tightening beneath the breastbone.
“Until when?”
“July.”
Jennifer and David had spent a weekend at a lake house in June.
He had told her he needed distance from the divorce.
Apparently not from Melissa.
“Did he say the marriage could be saved?”
“Yes.”
“While dating me?”
“I didn’t know about you.”
“I didn’t know he was still with you.”
They sat with that.
The waitress refilled both mugs.
Coffee smell mixed with fried onions from the kitchen.
Melissa touched her stomach.
The motion was less theatrical here.
More protective.
“How far along are you?”
“Fourteen weeks.”
Jennifer counted backward.
October.
David had proposed in August.
The wedding was in January.
“Did he know?”
“I told him two weeks ago.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“I know.”
“Did he ask what you wanted?”
Melissa laughed softly.
“He asked if I was sure.”
Jennifer looked out the window at headlights moving along the wet highway.
“What did you come to the wedding for?”
“To stop it.”
“You could have called.”
“I did.”
Jennifer’s head turned.
“Your number went straight to voicemail.”
She checked her phone.
Blocked caller settings.
David had configured them after spam calls from a patient directory.
Or said he had.
Melissa looked at her.
“I didn’t come because I hated you.”
“You flipped a table at me.”
“I hated the room.”
“That is not a useful distinction.”
“No.”
Melissa wrapped both hands around the mug.
“I saw the flowers, the dress, the ring. He gave you the clean version of himself while I was still waiting for him to finish the old one.”
Jennifer’s anger remained.
It changed shape.
Not sympathy.
Recognition.
“What did he tell you about the divorce date?”
“That it would be final next month.”
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“He signed a marriage application saying he had never been married.”
Melissa stared at her.
“What?”
Jennifer took a copy from her bag.
Melissa read the declaration.
Her face went still.
“He told me the wedding was symbolic.”
Jennifer’s fingers stopped on the ring.
“What?”
“He said the ceremony wasn’t legal yet. He said you both understood that and would file later.”
The diner noise receded around the sentence.
Jennifer leaned forward.
“He told you I knew?”
“Yes.”
“I did not.”
Melissa looked sick.
“He said you wanted the date because your mother was ill.”
“My mother is fine.”
Melissa pushed the paper back.
“I’m sorry.”
Jennifer did not know which part she meant.
The cake.
The lie.
The whole construction.
“Grace told me not to meet you.”
“Smart woman.”
“I needed your timeline.”
Melissa opened her purse.
“I brought messages.”
She placed a printed stack on the table.
David’s name appeared above lines Jennifer did not want to read.
We can still fix us.
I need time.
Don’t make permanent decisions while you’re upset.
The dates overlapped Jennifer’s first trip with him.
Her birthday.
The night he first said he loved her.
Jennifer ran her thumb along the ring’s edge until the metal warmed.
“He was building both stories.”
Melissa looked at her.
“Yes.”
Jennifer closed the stack.
The wedding had not been one lie.
It had been the public reveal of a lie maintained in two homes.
She looked across the table at the woman who had smashed her cake.
Melissa’s anger had been reckless.
Her evidence was not.
“Grace needs copies,” Jennifer said.
Melissa nodded.
“I’ll give her everything.”
For the first time, the two women were not standing on opposite sides of David’s version.
Before leaving the diner, Melissa placed cash beneath her coffee cup. Jennifer noticed the amount covered both drinks and the slice of pie neither woman had touched. She almost objected, then stopped. Letting Melissa pay for coffee did not settle the cake, the lies, or the years between them. It was simply coffee.
May you like
Jennifer left the diner with Melissa's printed messages in a sealed envelope. In the parking lot, she sat in her car for five minutes before turning the key. She did not reread them. Knowing they existed was enough for one night.
They were looking at it together.
