Extraordinary Encounters E2

“Matilyn, I don’t want you to feel that this totally unexpected rapid progress diminishes… us. I mean… you’re… amazing… and… I… ya know… you…. So if… if the person that night… was someone who cared about me… I might need to show my… appreciation.”

During a hesitation, Reyna’s eyes widen. Stepping closer…, her chest expands with deep breaths like the eventful evening—until Matilyn continues the practical advice in her signature bravado.

“So don’t let go of Alan. To avoid loneliness, adore your man like he’s your last meal. Never let a little criticism spoil the taste. And darling, garnish with a side of silence… to keep him coming back to you.”

“Oh! Alan? Of course. I do want to keep him! I’ll cherish every recommendation you’ve shared with me, Matilyn, and… I’d love for you to be my maid of honor.”

Reyna, clinging to the momentary relief, brightens and conveys Matilyn’s special role to Alan with giddiness later that evening.

“I don’t have many friends. It would have been embarrassing to depend on a puppy to bring the wedding rings down the aisle. Can you believe it? My roommate is going to be my maid of honor.”

“Really? Mattie—I mean Matilyn said yes?”

“She sure did. Now the wedding will be perfect!”

An Unceremonious Union

The time for the ceremony quickly arrives. As Alan falters during his vows, a faint whisper carries from the sparse audience. A gray-haired regular customer’s stomach growls while leaning toward a portly waitress to ask, “Is there going to be a reception?”

The waitress adjusts her apron, replying flatly, “Doubt it. We’ve got pie back at the diner if you’re hungry.”

The customer chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “Figures. Guess we’d better hurry back before the lunch rush.”

Reyna, clutching her bouquet a little too tightly, doesn’t dare glance back at the detached attendees. Instead, she focuses on Alan, whose eyes flick toward Matilyn, as if searching for reassurance

Alan’s vows trail off, his voice faltering as his gaze locks on Matilyn again, who tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. He doesn’t perceive a smile of encouragement—it’s one of approval, the kind given when a marionette performs as expected. Alan exhales and turns back to Reyna. “I do,” he says, his voice trembling.

A Memorable Honeymoon

After the honeymoon champagne at a local motel, Alan’s touch is tender and deliberate, but it feels like an ominous prior routine….

She whispers softly into his ear, “This setting is all too familiar. I’ve been someone’s morsel before… perhaps yours?”

Reyna lets her words linger, hoping for a confession. Yet, when Alan doesn’t respond, she closes her eyes, unable to erase the fantasy Matilyn implanted on the terrace.

The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bed. Reyna wakes to find Alan already dressed, his phone in hand. He glances at her briefly, saying:

“I have some journaling to do. I’ll grab us breakfast downstairs,” he says, slipping the phone into his pocket.

Reyna nods, watching him leave. The door clicks shut, and she exhales sharply, her fingers tightening around the sheets….

“Perhaps my first guilt-free night with a man. I’m really a newlywed,” she says to herself while smiling at the sunlight through the window.

A Different Perspective

Reyna finally enters Alan’s apartment from a side street after the wedding. When she opens the curtains and stands at the window, she stares across the street at her old building. The view lines up perfectly with the terrace Alan denied was in view. She told herself she was satisfying a stranger with a blurry silhouette. But from here, it’s so clear. Everything is visible.

Reyna leans forward, gripping the windowsill, her pulse roaring in her ears. A shadow then moves in the opposite window. It’s Matilyn stepping into view, wineglass in hand. Her figure is framed in the soft light of the terrace door. She lifts her glass slowly and deliberately smiles.

Reyna’s breath fogs the window. Her heart skips a beat with trembling legs while stumbling backward from the window. On the shelf by the couch, a framed picture catches her eye.

She picks it up, staring at a telephoto image of what could be Matilyn the night Reyna barged into her room, and something inside her twists.

“I’ve never been his sole attraction. How could I be… with my plain appearance? Matilyn was right. I can’t focus on the imperfections. Not when the alternative is emptiness. I wonder how long they’ve had this… arrangement.”

Continued…

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