Your Mark on Me

Omens (II)

"Have you got everything?"

I nodded. I'd packed my suitcase the day before, and I didn't have much stuff to take anyway. Mark was in a brighter mood since the morning, excited about showing me the house, about the newly replaced synthetic grass on the tennis court and the special arrangements he had made for me, which he refused to divulge until we got there — in short, enthusiastic about the future. I found his high spirits endearing and relieving at the same time.

We got in the car and he started driving. Just like before, his left hand rested on mine, his thumb absent-mindedly stroking my fingers and the back of my hand. He gave a short noise when his thumb brushed against the tiny ring that I had been wearing every single day since he'd given it to me.

"Something feels different", he said.

"Umm?"

"Your ring. Have a look."

He was right. The little gemstone had fallen, and now, instead of it there was just a strange-looking hole. "Don't worry, I'll get you another one."

"I don't want another one, I liked this one."

Mark smiled. He stretched out his palm towards me, his eyes fixed on the road in front of us.

"Give it."

I pulled the ring out of my finger and put it in his palm. He fumbled for a second before he managed to slide it in his chest pocket.

"I'll get it fixed soon, okay?"

He smiled again, not really looking at me. I rubbed the place where the ring had been, now just a circle-shaped white mark impressed on the skin of my finger. I knew I would get it back, but didn't like the lack of its familiar weight on my finger.

We had already been driving for about twenty minutes when I realised. I thought I'd taken it, but I must have left it in the bathroom when I went again, right before leaving.

"Oh, god. I'm so stupid." I gave a guilty grimace. "I'm sorry..."

"What happened?"

"I forgot my purse. I've got my phone and my passport in it and everything."

Mark reached his hand to ruffle my hair.

"You haven't been a little airhead in a while, have you? It's okay, it's not that far."

He made a U-turn and we headed back to retrieve it.

For a long time, even years later, I wondered what life would have been like had I not forgotten that damned purse.

It was raining again, big, sparse blobs of water splatting on the windshield, but it was warm in the car and it smelled of Mark's cologne, his coffee, and sugary sweets. I was bobbing my head to some silly mainstream pop song on the radio, and we were having fun eating jelly babies, me feeding Mark the green ones, which I didn't like. I'd always announce it with a long "aaah", to which he would open his mouth and I'd slip it in quickly, and he would always smile, finding it cute.

He had just ruffled my hair after I had somehow missed his mouth, and I was smoothing the frizz in the rearview mirror, when, in a fraction of second, I glimpsed the red car on the other lane, skidding towards my side at vertiginous speed.

I saw Mark's eyes widen in shock as he violently yanked the steering wheel to the left, to avoid the collision. There was a loud thundering crash as we ploughed into the pillar on the side of the road.

Then, it was dark.