The wine in his glass tasted stale, sour, acidic. Without conscious thought, he observed the dark red liquid as it swirled around the edges of his clear tapered glass, almost cresting over its sides. A grimace swelled across his face as he raised his head to look out the large, twin living room windows of his apartment. Blinking stars decorated the black midnight sky over the river to the west. Though fairly bright, their twinkle seemed dull tonight.
She had never declined a date with him before, never said she was unavailable, never turned him down. Never. Even when they met late because of a patient, she always found a way.
It wasn’t just saying no. There was something about her voice. The tone was different ─ first impersonal, matter of fact. Then it became cold. Icy cold.
His view dropped to his glass. The wine had become lifeless.
He slowly walked to the kitchen. Leaning over the polished black granite counter, he dumped his wine from the glass into the sink and watched as it blotted out his reflection, ran across the polished surface and down the drain, never to appear again. Staring at his now-empty glass, he felt that he had just emptied his life.
It had been a long time since Stephen Grant felt this way. He didn’t know what to do. He walked back into the living room, switched off the lights, and stared out the large twin windows at the empty black sky. He couldn’t see the twinkling stars. They were gone.
How did I ever get to this point? He thought back ... remembering.
Life with his wife, Becky, had been a beautiful, bright spot in his history. She was more wonderful than life itself. She brought a special meaning to every element of his life—the sparkle in her eye, her soft sexy smile, even the way she tipped her head to the side and whispered those words so softly, the words he would never forget, the words he came to treasure: "I love you." They all said how very special she was, and how she cherished Stephen and his love.
Her love gave him strength and self-confidence. With her by his side, nothing was impossible. He could walk with the lions, kill a dragon with a single blow, and eagerly walk straight and tall into a college class filled with freshmen. She made him feel like he was the king of the world.
Her unexpected death stole that happiness, tearing it away from his life. Following that time, a deep depression kept Stephen floating around a vast emptiness for over a year. Staring down at the floor, he started slowly shaking his head. He knew that was probably the worst time in his life. He wanted to forget it, put it far behind him.
Thankfully, his best friend Peter grabbed onto him and pulled him to safety, and back to life.
He recalled the feeling of being able to breathe again, almost like starting a new life once he got his head out of that murky water. Heeding Peter’s advice, he started dating again. Then along came the CIA and Dr. Samantha Sorkin, all at basically about the same time.
A sad smile crept across his face as he thought about those events. Sam aroused his attention and captured his heart very quickly. He did not think it was possible to find real, true love twice in his lifetime, yet there it was.
He closed his eyes and pictured Sam, remembering how he felt while with her. A tide of memories washed into his mind, bringing back some wonderful moments. But they shared bad times also. He remembered how the painters in her office building tried to shoot both of them. In fact, they had shared danger more than once and survived. He recalled lying in a hospital bed at the end of that adventure, dreaming of a new future with her.
But that was not to be. It ended, almost as fast as it started. Samantha felt compelled to go on a soul-searching journey to find herself and discover what she really wanted in life ─ what would make her happy. And she needed to complete this journey by herself, without him.
Opening his eyes, the blackness of his thoughts remained, surrounding him.
That had happened just over two years ago. Again, it was Peter who provided resuscitation and helped guide him back to life.
Stephen found his way through the now-dark apartment to the sofa and sat down. Thinking about his friend brought a happier smile to his face. He had known Peter a long time now, and he dearly loved him.
Peter met a woman who brought a special love to his life, and he was not going to let her get away. He married Olivia and their love blossomed. Shaking his head, Stephen acknowledged to himself that Peter’s new wife had also become a good friend, and he had grown to love her too.
Peter’s new wife’s best friend was a single pediatrician named Sheryl. Peter and Olivia played Cupid, and enjoyed seeing their best friends fall in love.
Stephen looked down at the floor. The quiet emptiness of his lonely apartment echoed in his ears. Walking back into the kitchen, he went to the sink, stared at the drain and asked himself, “How can I get the wine back into the glass?”
The foggy gloom that settled over him weighed heavily on his very being. Puzzled, he questioned, what is different? What happened that changed Sheryl? Turning away from the sink, he spoke aloud. “She said she loved me.” He shrugged. “And I said I love her. And I do,” he added emphatically.
Realizing his finger was tracing the scar on the left side of his face, he dropped his hand. “She seemed to change almost in an instant, while we were talking.”
As his mind wandered and he began pacing the floor, reality finally penetrated his thinking. “Of course. That’s it.” He snapped his fingers. “She changed when I mentioned Samantha. How stupid of me.” He shook his head. “Of course. A woman wants to be loved. That means being first. And it means if you really love her, there is no one else.”
The freight train smashed into him. “Wow, did I ever blow it. Sheryl, I didn’t mean that.” He continued talking as if she could hear. “I do love you. Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
Walking back to the twin windows, he thought, she’s absolutely right. I have enjoyed two previous loves in my life, but that’s in the past. I need to live now, in the present. He nodded, then said out loud, “I have to put all that in perspective. Those things are memories. Memories!” He started pacing again, shuffling back into the kitchen. “Happy times I’ve had in my life, but in the past. I don’t need to forget them, I just need to keep them in the past.”
It had been a couple of days since he had spoken with Sheryl. She said she could not see him. She was having dinner with someone else. Possibly the next night also.
“Well, she’s had her time,” he said aloud. He shook his head and pounded the counter next to the sink with his fist. “I’m not going to let her get away. Not this time.”
He turned and walked back toward the sofa. I’ve been respectful and given her the time and space she needed and deserved. But now it’s time for me to act.
He sat down, stared into the darkness, and stood up again. “I know. Yes.” Talking to himself, he continued. “I’ll be at her clinic when it opens in the morning. I’ll have a dozen red roses ─ no, two dozen ─ for her. Then she’ll listen.”
He would tell her he was sorry. He had made a serious mistake. He wanted her. He loved her. Would she forgive him? He would not take her for granted again.
And this time there was no room for anyone else. Just them. Just the two of them, together.