The Painful Reminder

The house smelled wonderful.

Stacy moved through the kitchen with a quiet sense of purpose, checking the roast, stirring something on the stove, and wiping down a counter that was already clean. Warm air drifted from the oven, carrying the rich smell of meat, herbs and roasted vegetables through the house. Somewhere nearby, something sweet was cooling, though she couldn't quite remember what she'd made.

She paused with the dish towel in her hands.

Something was wrong.

Not with the dinner. The dinner was coming along perfectly. The house was clean. The table needed setting, and there were still a few things to do before everything was ready, but none of that was a problem.

The problem was that she couldn't remember why she was doing any of it.

Stacy looked around the kitchen. The room was familiar. More than familiar, really. It felt like home. Yet the reason for all this work sat just beyond the edge of her thoughts, like a word she could almost remember but couldn't quite catch.

There was supposed to be a purpose. Something important. Someone important. Then thought came slowly.

Her husband.

Stacy smiled. Of course. Her husband. Her lover. Her man.

Evan.

The name alone sent a strange weakness through her knees. Stacy put one hand against the counter until it passed, looking down at herself with a faint, almost embarrassed smile.

Evan.

Why had she forgotten? She tried to picture him, but the image remained frustratingly indistinct. There was a man. A young man. Someone who mattered more than anyone else in the world.

No. More than that. He mattered more than the world. The certainty was so complete that Stacy didn't question it.

Evan had won her heart. That was all that mattered. She didn't need to remember how he'd done it. She didn't need to remember the first conversation, the first date, the first kiss, or the moment she'd realized that she'd fallen completely and hopelessly in love with him. Those details were somewhere in her mind. She simply couldn't reach them.

And that didn't matter. What mattered was that she loved him. The realization changed her entire outlook. Suddenly the house wasn't simply a collection of chores waiting to be completed. Everything had a reason. The counters needed to be spotless because Evan was coming home. The roast needed to be perfect because Evan would be hungry. The table needed to look beautiful because Evan deserved to come home to something beautiful.

Stacy's hands moved faster. Plates came out of the cupboard. Cutlery was arranged carefully. Napkins were folded and placed precisely where they belonged. She stepped back to examine the table, then adjusted one of the glasses by half an inch.

Better.

Much better.

Would he be home soon? Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

What would he be like tonight? Would he be tired? Would he be hungry? Would he want to talk? Would he like what she'd prepared?

Would he like her?

That last thought stopped her. Stacy's smile disappeared. For some reason, the question frightened her. Evan was important. Far more important than she was. Far more important than anyone she'd ever met. Although, strangely, Stacy couldn't remember ever meeting anyone else. There was only Evan.

Her man.

Her husband.

Her entire world.

But would she be enough for him?

The worry made her glance towards the kitchen again. Maybe there was more she could do. Of course there was. There was always something more she could do for Evan.

Stacy hurried upstairs.

The washroom mirror reflected a woman she recognized immediately, and yet for a moment she simply stared. She was beautiful. Her hair was arranged perfectly. Her face was attractive, her figure elegant in the dress she had chosen. The heels made her legs look longer, and the dress suited her far better than she would have expected.

Beautiful.

But was beautiful enough? Stacy leaned closer to the mirror and inspected her face. Maybe a little more here. A touch of colour there. She carefully fixed her makeup, smoothing away the tiniest imperfection and making certain everything looked exactly right.

Evan deserved perfection. If he came home and wasn't pleased with her, what would she do? The answer came with frightening certainty. Her world would end.

Stacy stopped with the makeup brush in her hand. That sounded dramatic. But it didn't feel dramatic. It felt factual.

Whatever else existed in her life, Evan was at the centre of it. If he didn't want her, then what was left?

She set the brush down. Her eyes drifted lower, taking in the dress again. It was clean, neat, and highlighted the best parts of her body. And underneath it...

A little smile appeared. She'd worn her some of her more racy underwear that morning. She remembered that much. At least, she thought she did.

Evan would like it. And if he did, that would be enough.

Then Stacy frowned. She couldn't remember getting dressed. She couldn't remember that morning at all. For a second, the room seemed to lose its shape. The edges of the mirror looked soft, and the light behind her seemed warmer than it should have been.

Stacy blinked.

The sensation vanished. There was work to do. Soon Evan would be home. She didn't know how she knew that. She simply did. The knowledge settled into her as naturally as everything else.

Soon.

Her perfect man would walk through the front door.

Evan.

Just thinking about him made her smile. There was something about him that made Stacy want to be better. Not because he demanded it, but because being loved by him made her want to deserve it. He made her feel special simply because he'd chosen her.

Chosen her.

That was the important part. Out of everyone in the world, Evan had chosen Stacy. She wanted to be worthy of that choice.

A small bottle of perfume sat beside the sink. Stacy picked it up and gave herself a light spritz. The scent was soft and familiar, something floral with just enough sweetness to linger. She looked at herself one last time.

Perfect.

Or as close as she could make herself. Stacy smiled at her reflection, then blew herself a playful kiss.

"I love you, Evan."

The words came so easily that she didn't even think about them.

Downstairs she went. The dinner was nearly ready. She checked the roast again, prepared the sides, and brought out the dessert. Everything was arranged exactly as it should be. The plates were ready. The glasses were waiting. There was beer in the fridge. Wine was chilling, too. Whatever Evan wanted, she would have it ready. Anything for her man.

Stacy glanced towards the front door. She couldn't wait to see him. To see his face. To see that perfect man walk through the door and finally tell her what he wanted from her. Then she heard it. The front door opened.

For one glorious moment, Stacy felt like a child on Christmas morning. She hurried towards the entrance, heels clicking rapidly against the floor. The sound seemed almost too loud in the quiet house, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered except getting to him.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Evan.

Her man.

Her everything.

Stacy stopped so suddenly that she had to catch herself against the wall. He was more beautiful than she'd imagined. Younger than her by a few years, with short brown hair and narrow shoulders beneath a grey T-shirt. Jeans. Nothing particularly remarkable about his clothes. And yet Stacy couldn't imagine anyone looking better. Anyone being more wonderful. More perfect.

Her heart belonged to him. She knew that now. She didn't need to understand why. She simply knew.

"Evan!"

Stacy rushed forward. Her arms wrapped around him, and she peppered his face with kisses, laughing as she welcomed him home.

"You're home."

He smiled at her. Then he kissed her. Everything else disappeared. There was only Evan. Only his arms around her. Only the certainty that she was exactly where she belonged. Stacy looked into his eyes and knew, with absolute clarity, that she'd never been happier in her entire life.

Stacy woke in the dark.

For several seconds, she didn't move. The bedroom was quiet. The dream was still there. Not the images. Those were already slipping away.

The feeling remained.

Stacy lay between two warm bodies, Debbie behind her and Evan in front of her. Without thinking, her arms tightened around Evan. The dream began to dissolve. She tried to hold onto it. Not the kitchen. Not the house. Not even Evan's face.

The feeling.

She wanted that feeling. She wanted to be that woman again. Somewhere in the fading edges of sleep, Stacy felt herself scrambling after the dream, reaching for pieces of it before they disappeared. The memories were already becoming indistinct, but the happiness remained vivid enough to hurt.

She hadn't cared about anything except him. She hadn't needed anything except him. That Stacy had been so happy.

So completely, impossibly happy.

Desperately she tried to take in every feeling, let it become part of her, but it slipped away from her like trying to hold onto water. She would do anything to feel that way again. Even if getting that happiness back meant giving up pieces of herself. Even if it meant surrendering the life she'd once considered her own.

What in her life even matter compared with what she'd had? How she'd felt?

Laying in the darkness, with Evan held tightly against her, the answer felt painfully obvious.

That other Stacy had been much better than her. So open. So caring. And infinitely happier.

And nothing could compare to that.

The dream faded anyway.

There was nothing Stacy could do to stop it. Soon there was only the darkness of the bedroom, the warmth of the blankets, Debbie's presence behind her and Evan's body in her arms.

A tear slipped quietly down Stacy's cheek. She didn't wipe it away. Instead, she held Evan a little tighter, taking whatever comfort she could from the warmth of another person.

If only she could feel that way again. Just for tonight. Just for a moment.

She closed her eyes. Quietly, as sleep began to pull her under again, she began to realize that if she was ever going to feel that happiness again, it would have to be real. The easy path was gone. Evan had erased it when he'd foolishly tried to help her, taking away the heaven she'd found in his arms and leaving Stacy to find her own way back to it.

She didn't know how.

Not yet.

But she wanted it.

Wanted it more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life.