Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

“Well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” she asked. “Someone did beat down your door.” She pulled another cigarette from her pack. “He was never the same after New York, you know.”

After years of pretending not to notice Manning and me, the veiled accusation had me leaning in, wondering if I’d misheard. “What?”

“Actually, I take that back.” Tiffany flicked her lighter a few times before it finally caught. “He was never the same after he found out he was going to New York. I can remember the exact moment he came home from work after having been approved for an East Coast trip to see his ‘clients.’ He could hardly hide the spring in his step.”

I stared at my sister, noting the new wrinkles around her eyes, the veins in her hands, the slight yellowish hue of her once flawless white teeth. I’d buried the memory of my last few moments with Manning as deeply as I could—it wasn’t how I liked to remember us, pain rolling off him while he’d relayed what should’ve been the best news of his life. “I’ve bit my tongue a lot of times around you,” I said to her, “but what you did to him was so messed up. You got pregnant because you were scared you’d lose him.”

“You’re right, I was scared—that my sister would steal my husband. Is there anything more messed up than that?”

“If I could’ve helped how I felt about him, I would’ve. Trust me.” I shifted in the metal chair to ease my stiffness. When I talked about Manning, everything ached, even my elbows and knees. “It’s been nothing but heartbreak for me.”

“Boo-fucking-hoo.” She pointed her orange-tipped cigarette at me. “That didn’t give you the right to screw around with him.”

I jerked back, shocked equally by the venom and the conviction in her voice. Had Manning confessed everything? “You make it sound cheap, but you knew what he meant to me.” I took a breath so my voice wouldn’t break. This was a conversation I’d never wanted to have. Despite what Tiffany might’ve thought, I didn’t want to hurt her, but I couldn’t forgive what she’d done to us. “You knew what you were doing from day one.”

“I thought it was a stupid crush,” she muttered to the table. “Do you know how many crushes I had at that age? I could barely keep track. I thought you’d get over it.”

“It wasn’t a crush. It was more.” I leaned forward, waiting until she lifted her head to meet my eyes. “I loved him, Tiffany. I didn’t care about anything else. Do you have any idea how it felt to watch him walk down the aisle with you?”

She stood, flicking the butt of her cigarette so ashes landed inches from my feet. “Do you have any idea how it felt to walk down the aisle knowing he was thinking about you?”

“No, I don’t, because he didn’t choose me,” I said. “He chose you.”

“If you think that, you’re even more naïve than I thought.” She stared at me, her jaw clenched as she shook her head. “How can you still not see the truth? He chose you. In the end, he chose you, and that’s what matters.”

“Do you see him here with me?” I asked.

“He chose you so many goddamn times. He kept me at arm’s length our entire marriage because I wasn’t you. After the m-miscarriage,” she stuttered, “things got worse, but you know Manning. I figured he’d just keep punishing himself.” She scuffed the ground with the bottom of her platform shoe, looking torn about whether to leave or stay. “He didn’t. Somehow, he finally found the guts to walk away from me.” She sat back down, her posture wilting. “But everything he is now, everything he’s done—it’s for you. He chose you, and you know it, and why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he want the perfect girl who gets everything she doesn’t even ask for?”

Where was he now? What had he done? I didn’t know, because he wasn’t mine. Considering what he’d lost, it’d never felt right to call him, and once he’d left Tiffany’s, I didn’t know where to reach him. Not that I would’ve tried. What could I say that hadn’t already been said? He knew I loved him. He knew I’d give up anything to be with him. He hadn’t come for me, and so I’d had no choice but to accept the truth—it wasn’t our time, and might not ever be.

“I haven’t spoken to him since New York,” I informed her.

“Well, then maybe you got what you deserved. Maybe we all did. You’re alone. He’s probably alone. My baby is gone.”

“How can you say that?” I asked. “Nobody deserves that kind of loss.”

“What do you know about loss? You never lose anything. You get everything.”