As much as I wanted to collapse into tears there on the sidewalk, I didn't. My throat constricted, yes. My eyes watered, yes. My newly stitched up heart again began to come apart at the seams, yes. But I didn't cry.  When I could see the Rolls no more, I turned with a stiff upper lip and went back into the flat.

Oscar alone had stayed behind when I let the other cats outside to mill about the back garden.  His green, feline eyes followed me as I walked further inside.  On impulse I bent down and scooped him up into my arms.  He lightly scratched at my shirt, his claws snagging on the fabric. 

"Put those away, sweetie," I whispered.  "If I'm leaving, he's not going to be able to return any clothes that are ripped up."

Even now, I was so afraid to consistently commit myself to one or the other.  Everything was an "if."  If I leave him, if I stay, if I can take that one irreversible leap of faith, or if I instead prove a coward.  All these "ifs"- and time was running out.

First things first, however.  No matter what I chose to do, I couldn't leave a mess.  Getting busy helped to clear my mind anyhow.  So I set Oscar down and trotted upstairs to strip our unmade bed. 

I drew the curtains back, flooding the room with light.  As if it wasn't apparent enough in the dark, the morning sun clearly revealed how much havoc two days' worth of sex could wreak upon unsuspecting sheets.  In spite of myself, I had to stifle a little smile as I pulled the utterly destroyed satin covers off the mattress, carted them into the laundry room, and threw them into the washer, starting the cycle immediately.  A few clean clothes were in the basket; I folded them.  Then I washed the dishes, letting them drain and air dry beside the sink.  I looked around for any other household chore I could do, but Ms. Cottage was a thorough woman, and she would be coming in tomorrow anyway.

I looked at the clock.  9:45.

I felt like I was on Death Row, sitting in my cell, twiddling my thumbs while I waited for my name to be called.  The silence about me was wearing on my nerves.  Perhaps a little Magic Mirror music would settle me.

But when I searched for my Android, it was nowhere to be found.  Last time I saw it, it was sitting on the shelf by the intercom, playing John Hiatt.  I didn't remember doing anything with it after that.  I did find my charger, which was plugged into the kitchen wall, but no phone.  I plucked it from the outlet, then kept looking. 

Rummaging through one of the drawers, I came across Freddie's little planner, the same in which he had written this morning.  There seemed to be something between the pages- something black.  I opened it, but to my disappointment found it was only a black ballpoint.

Rats! I muttered inwardly.  Where could it have gone?  Did one of the cats drag it off somewhere?

Just before I closed the planner again, the name "Phyllis" caught my eye.  Frowning, I squinted at Freddie's wild cursive- and went pale:

Phyllis 8:00 at the R

I swallowed and closed my eyes. So that's what he was doing tonight. He was meeting Phyllis, code name for David, at the Ritz Carlton, at eight o'clock.  Funny, how he didn't give me any details; all he said was that he'd be home late. 

Don't think it.  Don't think it.  It's not going to help, don't think it.

But I thought it.  It was such an obvious conclusion, I couldn't help myself:

It's already happening. The love is running out. Dr. C was right.

Suddenly I felt like I was choking; I put a hand to my throat, unable to breathe.  I had already slipped in his eyes.  One day.  Just one whole day, he let me borrow all his love, and here he went again right back to old habits- and old lovers.  Oh, God. 

"I have love enough for all of you." The words burned in my ears.  Minsy's words, true; the cherub could have been lying.  I didn't want to believe Freddie said that to him- but still, wasn't that such a Freddie thing to say? 

"Wait," I barked aloud.  I can't just assume the worst.  Every time I do that, something terrible happens.  Freddie loves me; I saw it in his eyes.  Even John thinks I should give him a chance.

But was this really a chance I could afford to take, all things considered?  Wasn't this rendezvous reminder evidence enough? 

Before I could answer my own question, someone knocked on the door.  Go away, I said to myself.  Let me have a breakdown- another one- in peace.

Still, I walked over, and called through the door, "Who is it?"

A cool, female voice replied- one I recognized all too well.

"It's Mary."

  Good God.  It never rains, but it pours.

I bit my lip and put on a good face before flinging open the front door.  There she stood, the love of Freddie's life, his very best friend, hands tightly clasped behind her back, eyes focused on her feet. 

"Hello," I greeted her at last.

"Hello."

I've never felt more awkward around anyone than I did around Mary- and her added presence did nothing to soothe my soul.  In spite of the friction between us, I was still Team Mary, if I absolutely had to pick a team- but I did not have time for this. 

After a beat, I cleared my throat and said, "If it's Freddie you're looking for, he's already-"

"I know," she replied.  "But I came to speak with you."

Oh, crap, what now?

"Me?"  I blinked.  "Okay.  Uh- won't you, um- won't you come in?"

"Thank you." 

She walked slowly into the flat, and I closed the door behind her. 

"Cup of tea?" I offered automatically.

But Mary shook her head.  "I don't intend to stay long.  I was on my way to work and I- I had to stop and see you- get something off my chest.  I can't bear it any more."

I nodded, confused.  "Have a seat, won't you?"

So we each sat down across from one another, comfortably nestling on the sofas.  I couldn't help but notice something new in her expression.  It was still on the blank side, true- but now I detected a tinge of guilt, and it seemed to me that her face was rather flushed, and her eyes puffy, as if she had just finished a nice long crying jag.  Mary stayed silent a moment, biting back the words she came to say, clenching her hands in her lap. 

Come on, Mary, out with it so you can go to work, or go home, or go wherever- as long as you, you know, go away. 

"Okay, so," I coaxed after a little while, "what did you want to see me about?"

Mary lifted her head and shrugged.  "I came- to apologize."

I squinted.  "What?"

"I've behaved very badly," she whispered, "and I'm sorry."

"I don't understand.  You didn't do anything-"

"Oh, yes, I did," she interrupted me.  "I did something terrible to you, it wasn't right of me, I- I don't know what possessed me when I came over that day."

"Mary, whatever it is, there is no need to- what?" My eyes widened.

She swallowed.  "Do you remember when I came by the day before the party?  When I took that book to Freddie?"

I nodded, waving my hands.  "Mary, I knew it was you.  It's all right, that's what you came for, he asked-"

"It's not what I did, Eve," Mary clarified.  "It's what I said."

She had my attention now.  "What do you mean?"

"When I," she sighed, the words slowly escaping her lips as though they left some horrible taste on her tongue the moment they hit the air, "told you that Freddie told me that- he was in love with you?"

"Yes?"

"That... wasn't true."

I frowned, unsure of what she was getting at.  "So wait, you're saying-"

"Freddie never said- outright told me he was in love with you.  I made that up."

I just sat there, dumbfounded.  Mary continued haltingly, "I- said that because- I don't even know why.  I just felt like saying it, so I said it.  But I did know- I could tell- that he was.  In love with you, I mean, I just- decided I would tell you, because you obviously hadn't noticed."

I blinked slowly, still trying to digest her words.  So she lied to me- but why would she admit it?  Why would she tell me so?

Which is what I asked her.  "I accept your apology, but why are you telling me this?"

"Because, I've been thinking.  I've thought about this all day and all night- and I know I was wrong.  I misjudged this whole situation so badly.  You see, I believed you were- sort of an opportunist, rather like his new friend.  That Irish fellow, Paul."

I blinked.  "So you don't like him either?"

She laid a finger to her lips.  "Not a word to Freddie- but no.  And I gather you're not keen on him yourself?"

"I hate him."

I saw something very similar to a smile twitch on Mary's lips, but it didn't last more than a second.  She looked me over. "You love him, don't you?  Not Paul.  Freddie."

"Why not?" I tried to sound blase.

"You do. Madly. I can tell."

"How?"

"It's in your eyes," Mary answered. "I saw it even before I told you about him."

"I can't help it," I sighed with a smile. "He's hard to fully understand, but so easy to love."

"You know, it wasn't at all that easy for me. It took me a while to fall in love with him."  She shot me a look that seemed to question whether I could say the same.

And as sorry for Mary as I felt, I heard my head voice quip, It took me seven years and two weeks, Toots.  Beat that.

"But, at the party," she went on abruptly, as if continuing a monologue she may have been reciting in her own mind, "I realized- when I saw you two together, watched you interact- that's when it occurred to me."

"What did?"

"That I was wrong," she said quietly.  "That... Freddie does truly love you."

For some reason, I still wanted to let her down easy.  "Mary, it's anybody's guess as to what he really-"

"I know him, Eve.  I know him like the back of my hand.  We lived together for five and a half years, were lovers for almost all of them- and in that time, he never once looked at me the way he looked at you that night." 

"That doesn't mean a thing.  You know him worlds better than I do, and for longer. He trusts you. It's not the same."

But this didn't seem to make her feel any better. Mary sighed, brushed a quiet tear away from her eyes.  "I wish..."

"What?"

She shook her head.  "Nothing."  With a subtle glance at her watch, she rose, dusted off her hands.  "I must be going.  You will take care of Freddie for me, won't you?"

There was something oddly final in her voice, and it scared me.  "What do you wish, Mary?" I asked.

"Nothing, I said," Mary huffed.  "I just- I know I will miss being needed."

"By whom?"

She shrugged, and started for the door.  "Freddie, of course."

I ran after her.  "What are you talking about?  He does need you!"

Mary's face pinched.  "Not anymore."

It took a minute for me to register what was happening.  She was making for the door, talking as though she would never show her face here again.  And then it hit me.  It was just as I had feared; I really had ripped Freddie and Mary apart.  I had come along at the rockiest point in their relationship, and rubbed so much salt into their slowly healing wounds they might never recover.  Freddie was losing her and he didn't even know it.

Perhaps this was a new future, a new horizon, and maybe things were indeed vastly different, but Freddie couldn't lose Mary, not now or ever.  That just couldn't happen.  I had no choice.

My body kicked back into action.  "No! Stop!" I screamed, chasing her out the door.

"I have to go to work, Eve."  Mary put the key into the car door lock.

"Listen to me.  You can't do this!  You can't abandon him!  You know you're all he has!"

She looked back at me with those pretty, flat eyes.  "He's got you, hasn't he?"

Then I blurted, "No, he hasn't!"

"No?"

"NO!  I'm leaving!"

Mary seemed to draw back a little.  "You're what?"

I swallowed, feeling my own tears finally start at the back of my eyes.  "Mary, I'm leaving him today."

I don't know why she looked so horrified when I said that.  "But- but you can't!"

"I have to," I croaked.  "Because if one of us has to leave him, if that's the only way this works, and that's how it looks- then it has to be me."

"Eve, he doesn't need me, he needs you, you make him happy-"

"Mary, shut up," I snapped suddenly.  "Just shut up, okay, and let me explain!  Can you do that?"

She didn't even bat an eyelash.  "I haven't much time-"

"You would drop everything and anything for Freddie, pretend I'm Freddie for thirty seconds.  Okay?"

With a sigh, she folded her arms and leaned against her car.  "Go ahead."

I spoke quickly.  "Look.  You don't know what I know.  You may know what's inside Freddie better than anyone- but I know what's ahead of him."

Mary frowned.  "How?"

"It's complicated.  But I know- that somewhere soon, down the road, I've been told, by people who monitor this stuff- that Freddie and I will split.  It won't last, Mary.  I-" My throat seemed to tighten even more but I kept going- "I love him, but- Mary, he told me himself, I couldn't ever replace you."

"He said that?"  Her voice sounded hopeful.  It made me sick, but I just continued.

"Yes," I nodded, leaving out the all-important second part of what he meant.  "You can ask him.  And I couldn't, not in a thousand lifetimes.  He needs you, he will always need you, you know how he is, he picks them so badly- my God, I'm the prime example of that- but you, you he got right.  And you're the only person he can count on, and if he loses you- that'll be the end of him.

"If I don't leave him now, he's just going to leave me later.  I might as well do it first.  I'm a flash in the pan.  It's already begun to fizzle, whatever it is we have.  But in his way, Freddie will always come back to you.  It's bad enough he will have to lose one of us- but he cannot lose both. 

"You see," I concluded, my throat so tight I had no more voice, "I do love Freddie- enough to let him go." 

Mary didn't reply for a moment or two.  All she did was slowly blink once or twice. 

I broke the silence.  "Anyway, I wanted you to know what it's all about," I shrugged, turning back to the flat.  "I won't keep you any l-"

"Eve."

Biting my tongue, I took my time in facing her again.

She looked me over, almost smiled, and said, "Thank you."

I coughed a little.  "I don't know what you're thanking me for, but- you're welcome."

Mary lowered her head again and opened the car door, but it was clear she felt differently.  I saw rays of hope in her face,  as well as affection for Freddie, and gratitude for me. 

"Take care of yourself," I called to her before she pulled away.  She nodded, but did not reciprocate the benediction save with a smile. 

What a wonderful turn of events, what a happy conclusion.  Everybody was getting their just desserts.  Mary still had Freddie, Freddie still had his world, and I had- to go home.

I guess it's official now.

I didn't wait for Mary's car to disappear.  As soon as the wheels started rolling underneath her I whirled around and hid myself in the flat.  I couldn't be the reason he lost someone so special.  She wasn't special to me- in fact, I disliked her more than I ever thought I would- but she really was not the bad guy in all this.  People do things out of desperation, or fear, that they would otherwise never even think of doing.  Mary may have lied to me- but in all honesty, were I in her place, I'm not sure if I myself would have acted any differently.

I swear, if anyone else calls me, or knocks on the door, or drops me a letter by f---ing carrier pigeon, I'm just going to tell them to f--- off.  If it's good enough for Freddie, it's good enough for me.

It was now a little past ten.  Whatever was left to do, I had to do- and quickly.  I went to the spare room closet and laid out all my seventies' clothes on the bed.  In order to save Freddie a little time and energy, I sorted them all out by department store and boutique.  None of the clothes looked excessively worn; he might have Rudy return them, in order to get some of the money that he'd lavished upon me back in his wallet.

Finally, everything having been categorized, I shed the 1977 garb I was wearing, stripping down to my underwear.  Then I reached for my old, unexciting black turtleneck and jeans, which were looser on me around the waist than before.  I really had lost weight.

I picked up the tracker from our bedr- I mean, Freddie's bedroom floor.  The light within was burning red, though a fainter red at that.  Quietly I slung it back around my neck and slid my feet into my flats.  I looked in the mirror on instinct, studied the young woman staring back- a woman that was me but wasn't me.  The woman's makeup was tidy, her hair combed and smooth, and she had a fair, mostly unspoiled complexion (as in, the turtleneck hid ninety-five percent of Freddie's love-bites).  But she looked tired, used, unhappy- ready for this whole charade to be over and done with. 

And I was.

Lastly, I sat down with a pen and some of his stationery.  I would not be able to explain verbally why I was breaking my promise; I'd have to take it all down in writing.  And it wasn't easy. 

It took me almost one whole hour and three rough drafts to finish that letter, to make it say all the things I needed it to say. I might have given it even more attempts than that, but I wasted too much time wallowing in unhappy little sobs or mad, incoherent prayers that Freddie would show up out of nowhere and destroy the Relic before that wretched, tinny Valkyrie ringtone sounded.  But nevertheless, this is what I ended up writing:

Dear Freddie,

I'm sorry.

You have no idea how much I hate myself for this. Even now my heart is telling me I'm making a terrible mistake. But there's no other way.

I could never thank you enough for all the wonderful things you gave me, be it your trust, your protection, your care. You showed me what it was to laugh, to hurt, and to love. And I do love you. So much. Oh, my prince, if you only knew how much you mean to me.

If this were a perfect world, and everything happened the way I wanted it to happen, I would not only stay. I would stay forever. If all my wishes were to come true, and only my wishes mattered, I would be your wife and the mother of your children, living to do and be whatever you wished, loving you until I drew my last breath. But the world does not revolve around me, and what I want. I must think of you as well. And being a husband to a wife, or a father to children, I know, is not high on your list of priorities. I'm not saying that to be mean; it's the truth.

As much alike as we are, we are still so different.  What is important to me is not important to you, and vice versa.  I will not stifle you, Freddie- and I will not come between the people in your life that you treasured the most. And were I to stay, that is exactly what would happen. We both know it's true. For you are a free