"IF YOU MARRY him, I totally expect to be the maid of honor."
These are the words that Beth quipped lightheartedly as she and Lindy sat at a bar in downtown Seattle, their fingers wrapped around glasses of cider. Beth had already enthusiastically ordered a second round, but Lindy, whose mind was focused on anything but drinking, had taken a sip of her drink and abandoned it soon after.
"I doubt there will be a marriage anytime soon," Lindy told her friend, nearly rolling her eyes at Beth's optimistic hope that she'd be walking down the aisle any day now.
"But he proposed," Beth reminded her, lowering her voice a few notches as the bartender wandered closer. "And he took you to Paris, Linds."
"Doesn't change the fact that he's married to a woman who doesn't want a divorce and is close to death because of drugs. And he didn't take me to Paris. I took myself."
On one hand, Lindy regretted that she was not bubbling with giddiness over the events that had taken place within the last month. Kurt's actions had without a doubt shown her how much he loved her, but there were other things she expected out of their relationship too. She expected them to happen soon, even if she tried to act like she didn't.
Her departure from Paris had not been easy. She and Kurt's goodbyes never were. But this one had been more difficult than any singular one before.
Lindy had clung to him, swallowing back cries that she knew would break Kurt's heart if he saw them. And even then, if she had cried, she wouldn't have done herself any favors.
"I'll see you as soon as I get back," Kurt had promised.
Lindy accepted this vow, but somewhere in the furor of her anxiety she felt that her night in Paris with Kurt was to be one of their last pure moments together. This feeling was worsened when she imagined it being the last time that she would ever see him again.
Regardless of this, Lindy had gotten on a plane and rushed right back to Seattle to continue on with her usual routine as if nothing had happened. With it came the normal bouts of sleepless nights and worry. She was used to these things by now.
Beth shushed Lindy upon hearing her speak so loudly, giving her a cautionary hint that they could be heard. Lindy didn't care. She was far past caring whether or not a stranger heard her babbling about her relationship woes, even if they could have guessed that she was talking about Kurt. And who would even know at that point anyway? Lindy had come to learn that the streets of Seattle were a heroin cove, and her frequent laments could have been about anyone.
"I'm sorry, Lindy. I know you love him a lot."
Lindy waved her hand at the bartender, mouthing the word 'water.' She was beginning to feel dizzy in the environment of the smoky bar, craving the haven of her bed where she could stress herself out to her heart's content.
"I've got my dad to worry about too," Lindy expressed, sliding a napkin under her freshly delivered glass of ice water. "He's getting so bad that Trae and I think we may have to put him in hospice."
She shook her head and sighed. "I shouldn't have gone to Paris. My dad's dying and I left and then I come back to everything being worse than before."
Beth frowned sympathetically. "You're a good daughter for doing this for him after all that he did. So your boyfriend wanted to fly you to Paris, who cares? I know you think that you owe your dad your life now, but you don't."
"Anyone with a heart would disagree," Lindy muttered, stabbing a straw through the ice in her glass and taking a long, refreshing sip. Telltale signs of nausea were rolling threateningly in her stomach, but as of lately it was rare that they didn't.
