Jenna closed her eyes and reminisced when Max rested his head on her stomach during a relaxing picnic. She felt the warm spring breeze on her face and sensed that summer was coming. The intoxication of freshly cut grass. It was around the same time, a year ago.
‘Hungry?’ Max squinted up at her through his splayed fingers. He must have forgotten his sunglasses in the rush to pack the hamper. As her stomach rumbled, he flinched and sat upright abruptly. With that boyish smile, he said, ‘I guess that’s a yes’!
She blushed, embarrassed by how audible the rumble must have been. Reaching for the hamper, Jenna peered inside. ‘You went to a lot of trouble! We could’ve just bought some fish and chips up the road.’ There was a bottle of champagne, glasses, an assortment of food.
‘Cloth napkins? Really, what is the occasion?’ As she pulled out a napkin, there was curious sparkle as she noticed it was threaded through a gold ring crowned with a solitaire.
As she turned to look at Max, he was already on bended knee, both hands holding a cupcake decorated in cursive: Will you marry me? The proposal had a controlled urgency and it took her by surprise. She did not see this coming, which summed up the moment which changed her life forever.
***
The light suddenly became dim interrupting Jenna’s dream. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to see a familiar face. His face cast a shadow on Jenna’s face as he peered through the crack of the car window, his hands cupping over his eyes to block out the sun’s reflection. The warmth of the spring sunshine quickly diminished along with the breeze and the smell of freshly cut grass.
Max eyes looked bloodshot through the car window, as if he’s been crying; although Jenna sensed it may be due to pent up anger. It is difficult to gauge Max’s emotions. Like Sydney’s storms, it could turn from cloudy to rain, then hail, then back to sunny in one afternoon.
Instinctively, Jenna wound up the window, just as she knew to automatically lock all doors when she parked at Rushcutters Bay overnight.
Un-cupping his eyes, Max mouthed the words: ‘I’m sorry’.
Jenna could see a bouquet of service-station flowers held between his knees which were pressed together awkwardly in a V-shape.
‘Are you tracking me?’ How did you know I was here?’ Jenna mouthed her words back through the window.
Jenna could easily have turned on the ignition right then, speed off, and leave him standing there holding the cheap, graveyard flowers but something always held her back. Those familiar, unrelenting thoughts came to her: Why can’t she just leave? Why won’t he leave her alone?
As she reached for the handbrake, Max walked to the front of her car and stood there, refusing to move. He held the flowers up high like a dogged protestor, fuelled by passion, and stared straight at her through the windscreen.
Jenna honked her horn twice. A few joggers had stopped to watch the scene unfold. Two mums with matching prams, slowly parked under the treelined path, sipping their lattes earnestly.
‘Get out of the way, Max!’, yelled Jenna with her head partially out of the window.
‘No, I won’t! Why did you leave in the middle of the night? You can’t just do that!’, Max hollered back.
‘Get away, Max or I’m going to run you over! I’ve had enough! You treat me like crap. How are you tracking me? How did you know I was here? Answer me!’, screamed Jenna, as tears started to roll down her face. She could hear her teardrops as they land on her phone, the heat of the device throbbing like her heartbeat on her thigh.
Sensing the tension had eased, the joggers resumed their run, a few MAMILs rode by, the pram brigade started checking on their bubs before pushing on and resuming their chatter. Jenna overheard one of the mums shriek with an almost audible eyeroll, ‘another silly domestic, wished they sort themselves out indoors.’
‘You are my wife. I track you to keep you safe. I need to know where you are. Any woman would want to be protected by their husbands! Why are you so ungrateful?’ Max said this as he cautiously walked over to her window.
‘We are destined to be with each other, Jenna. You know this. Unlock the door and let me take us home’, Max said pacifyingly.
Jenna stepped out of the car and walked to the passenger seat. Drying her tears with her sleeve, still clutching her phone, she felt humiliated, defeated, worn down. She was a shadow of her former self. Maybe this was kismet after all.
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