Olive Juice

He was about to reach for the push-button start on the SUV. Instead, he opened the door into the rain.

It was cold. He could see his breath.

He took the umbrella and opened it through the partially ajar car door before he stepped out of the SUV. He felt some droplets on his ear and reached up to brush them away. He rolled his shoulders, trying to will away the stiffness. He tightened the scarf around his neck and closed the door behind him. The lights blinked as he pressed the button on the fob, and he turned back toward the hotel.

He stood there, just for a little while.

When was the last time he’d been here? It’d been… before. A weekend away. A staycation Phillip always called it, that funny little smile on his face. This is our staycation. Just a couple of days, you and me. Clothing optional. That sound okay?

And yeah, that’d been okay. That’d always been okay by David.

Not tonight, though.

They should have picked somewhere else to go tonight.

Unless that’d been the whole point.

He looked down at his hand, at the ring on his finger.

He’d forgotten he had it on, as he sometimes did. He could go days without even being aware of it, only to have it catch his eye and bring everything around him to a halt. It was scuffed and scratched, worn with time. The gold band was thin, the inscription on the inside faded. He knew what it said. He tried to forget it sometimes. Just to see if he could do it. And there were days he had. He didn’t know if today could be one of those days.

He should’ve taken it off. He didn’t want Phillip to see it. It wouldn’t do. There’d be… questions that he was not ready to answer.

He propped the umbrella under his arm, ducking when it hit the top of his head. He reached over to take the ring off. Of course it was stuck. His fingers were a little thicker than they’d been twenty-odd years ago when it’d been slid on in a ceremony in a backyard in the spring of 1997. The cherry blossoms had been blooming along the Tidal Basin, the sun had been shining, and everything felt right. There had been a smile on both their faces, and it’d been right. It’d been beautiful. And she had been so pretty in her dress—

No. No. No. No.

Not her. Nothing about her. Not now. Not tonight.

He ground his teeth together and grunted as he pulled on the ring. For a moment, he thought it wouldn’t budge, and he’d either have to wear gloves for the rest of the night or he’d just need to go home. Yes. Yes, that sounded best. He could just go home and the ring would stay on and—

It slid over his knuckle, rubbing the skin a little raw. His elbow bumped the SUV and his arm went numb. He hissed out a low breath, the umbrella canting to the left, his shoulder getting wet from the rain.

It’d been raining for a week now. The weather reports said there was no end in sight.

He slid the ring into his coat pocket, buttoning it up to keep it safe and sound. When he got home later, he could put it back on again. No one would be the wiser, and Phillip—

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David shook his head. Best not to think about it now. Phillip always had a way of figuring those things out.

He walked toward the brightly lit hotel. It was ten stories, the height of which had been restricted by the Height of Buildings Act of 1910, something all of Washington DC had to abide by. There had been talk a few years back of amending the act, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. He probably should’ve just taken the Metro in, but the thought of being surrounded by people on a train hadn’t appealed to him. Besides, the trains were always late. At least now he could be the first one here and allow himself to get used to being back in this place.

They’d held the reception here after that spring day in 1997. It’d been nice. Everyone had been happy. There’d been music and dancing, food and booze. Speeches had been given, and tears had been shed. And hadn’t everyone talked about how beautiful she’d been? They had. Oh, David, you’re handsome, and Phillip, you aren’t so bad, but would you look at her. She’s radiant.

His steps faltered.

His knees felt weak.

He told himself it was because he was fifty-four now. Knees were one of the first things to go.

He felt like a liar.

I could turn around, he told himself. I really could.

The automatic doors slid open. A burst of manufactured air rolled over him. It was warm. There were still Christmas decorations in the lobby, though the holidays were two weeks past. He’d turned his phone off during those days. It was easier than hearing the incessant beeping of messages received that he would ignore.

This was it, wasn’t it? His last chance to turn back around. Phillip would understand.