Chapter Twenty-Five

Dear Rob,

I imagine by now Noah has told you I am getting married.

I’m not sure how this happened so quickly. I met Colby while skiing, and it was like an avalanche. One minute we were having dinner, and the next, his mother was throwing away my antiques, picking out my wedding dress, having her decorator do up a condo in the latest colors… Why am I telling you all this?

What I really wanted to say, is I realize I miss you. I miss talking, arguing about politics, skiing, our home town, our Saturday jaunts to the market, our ski parties, and just all of it.

Rob noted she didn’t say she missed the sauna, the earthquakes, the mind-blowing kisses… Well, he thought, it’s a start. At least she’s talking to me about something, instead of ignoring me…

I want to say I’m sorry I broke it off like I did, and I’m sorry I didn’t take you up on one or two of those fabulous ski trips you invited me on. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll understand.

Hugs, Mia

Rob was elated she had written at all, but she hadn’t said she wasn’t getting married. She hadn’t said she loved her fiancé, but she hadn’t said she didn’t love him either. She hadn’t said when the wedding was to take place, and she hadn’t mentioned where she was when she wrote the note. Rob got a feeling in his gut, like a cold fist had grabbed him.

Then Rob noticed there were three more messages from Mia. Each one seemed more agitated, and finally frantic, than the one before.

Mia didn’t come right out and ask Rob to come back and get her, and she didn’t say she wanted to call off the wedding. She just sounded upset, agitated and seemingly wanting to talk to Rob.

The last message was dated only a couple of days ago. Rob continued skimming his email for something from Noah that might explain the whole situation, and tell him what it was Mia wanted.

Noah’s messages were bland, and hardly did more than give Rob the date of the wedding, which looked like this weekend. Just four days to stop the mistake and get her back, chanted Rob in his mind.

Before he got in the shower, Rob started throwing his belongings in suitcases and boxes, and he called the airline to get the next flight home, even if he had to fly around the world three times with stopovers in strange places just to get there. He booked first class, money be damned, just to get there even an hour faster.

Rob took a fast shower, glad he no longer had to rely on “desert showers” which was the name the locals gave to the sweat baths which dried on their skin and clothes so fast they didn’t even have time to smell bad. Rob didn’t believe them. He smelled bad to himself, and he hated how he felt all the time.

He made it out to the airport with just a carryon, and tipped the taxi driver outlandishly to carry the rest of his stuff in and put it on a later plane.

I’m going back to Mia. I’m going back to Mia, his feverish brain kept repeating. He was an awful seatmate on the plane as he just couldn’t seem to sit still, hadn’t a book to read, and couldn’t concentrate on his other 796 email messages. He twitched, went up front for a newspaper and some magazines, had a drink, tried to play Solitaire on his laptop, and then twitched and started in fidgeting once more.