Past Tense

By Kate Schelonka

Weekend Trip

***Present Day***

Charlie. I was startled as the name entered my mind. I froze in the middle of writing an article for the magazine I worked for, but the thought left my mind as suddenly as it had come. Why was I suddenly thinking of Charlie? I felt puzzled as I finished typing up the article, gave it to my manager, and headed off to my car to drive home to my husband and children.

On my way out, I caught my reflection in a clean window, and paused to examine myself. I had always been called pretty, beautiful even, but I didn't really see what set me apart from everyone except my eyes. They were bright green. I had a narrow nose, a small mouth, and fair skin. I was unusually tall, which I had always enjoyed, but it was a hindrance when I first started dating. My hair was light blonde, which I supposed some people saw sometimes as a sign of beauty, but to me it just made me look a bit shallow. I sighed and shrugged, wondering if maybe I just had a mind that worked differently then everyone else's. It worked for me as long as my husband thought I was beautiful.

I got in my car, and pulled out of the employee parking lot with ease. I suddenly felt like I had too much on my mind, that I needed to take a weekend away from it all. As I drove the monotonous road toward home, I began playing with the idea of spending the weekend at our quaint beach house in Westbrook, Connecticut. I thought more and more about it, and I decided to just do it. I felt like taking some time off would help me figure out why I had recently been reminiscing on my life.

I got home and hugged my husband. His arms felt so friendly, so intimate, I never got enough of it. I told him about my wanting to take a spontaneous trip alone for the weekend, and pulled out my small travel bag to start packing. He stood in the open doorway of our bedroom, a mixed expression on his face. He looked at me as a small valley of confusion formed between his eyebrows.

"Kara, why are you doing this? Where did this come from?"

I sighed and replied, "I'll be back by Monday, I just need a weekend to myself. This is just something I feel like I need to do. I'm starting to feel a little stressed."

This was true enough - our two year old daughter and five year old son were fairly strenuous at times, and that combined with working as a journalist could drain anyone after long enough. But I didn't meet his eyes as I said this; I had never been very good at being evasive, especially around him, but I was casual enough to not arouse suspicion.

He sighed and resigned, seeing the stubborn set to my face and realizing that there wasn't any point in pressing the issue. I heaved my now-full bag over my shoulder and carried it down the hall, out the door, and into my old Subaru Outback. The sky was clear as was expected for this time of year in New Haven, Connecticut, and my kids were running around in the front yard. They waved at me and I smiled as I got into my car and started the engine.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" my husband asked as he walked out to my car window and leaned in.

I took a deep breath, smiled, and nodded. I looked into those familiar eyes as they smoldered, and temporarily lost my train of thought.

"Alright, well I love you."

I stared at him as I replied, "I love you too, I always will."

He leaned in and kissed me before I turned to back out of the driveway. The kiss was still pleading me not to go, and I almost changed my mind. That's how it always was when he kissed me – all thought of every thing else fled my mind and he could convince me of almost anything. He stood where he was and waved, still slightly confused at my sudden urge to stay at our little beach house in Westbrook for a weekend.

It was a fairly lengthy car ride, which would give me time to think, and for that I was grateful. It was hard to find a moment's peace with two small kids running around all the time. Most people were surprised that we had waited so long to have kids, because my husband and I had been married for five years before little Noah, my oldest, was even brought into our lives.

I still saw shock when I told people that I had been married for ten years. Married at eighteen, to a boy just barely twenty, and with no kid along the way, was very rare. My mother was skeptical of our marriage for years; in fact, I think she's still skeptical. I drove silently for a ways, finally pulling up to the tiny beach house.

Once my things were out of the car and inside the small bedroom, I made myself lunch. I pulled out all the equipment necessary to make a decent sandwich, humming tunelessly. I began slicing tomatoes and reflected over the years in my relationship with my husband. I thought about how he proposed. It was exactly as I had it laid out in my mind – The music, the dinner, and even the ring. An emerald, like my eyes, he would tell me. It had been given to him by his mother when he told her his plans to ask for my hand.

Then I thought about the years of quiet solitude we spent together before Noah came along, and I remembered I was sad about losing our old lifestyle at first, but happy about it afterwards. A kid around the house can inspire a lot of ideas for a journalist. I chuckled to myself, recalling a time where he tried to climb up a shelf in cowboy boots – in nothing but cowboy boots.

I quickly ate my lunch and sat down to read some out of the book I was working on, a book about a couple doomed to failure from the choices they made before going out. It was no use – I had too much energy to sit down, so, I decided to take a walk along the beach instead. I continued my thoughts about life with Noah around the house, and then with Cecelia, my youngest, added too.

All the thought from my current life made me go back further … before complications and marriage and real life. I remembered a camp I went to during the summer when I was fourteen. The memories all started flooding back … my original idea for going to camp, my old friends … then I thought of him again. The boy I had met at that summer camp, my first true love.

Charlie.