Nicholas Sparks - Message in a Bottle

Garrett looked at his plate. Though he wasn’t hungry anymore, he picked up his fork and took a small bite.

“You know,” his father said as he picked at his own food, “this isn’t the last time this is going to happen, so you shouldn’t get so down about it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“i mean that as long as you two continue to live a thousand miles apart, things like this are going to come up and you won’t see each other as much as either one of you wants.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“I’m sure you do. But I don’t know if either one of you has the guts to do something about it.”

Garrett looked at his father, thinking, Gee, Dad, tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold back.

“When I was young,” Jeb continued, oblivious of his son’s sour expression, “things were a lot simpler. If a man loved a woman, he asked her to marry him, and then they lived together. It was as simple as that. But you two—it’s like you don’t know what to do.”

“I’ve told you before—it’s not that easy. . . .”

“Sure it is—if you love her, then find a way to be with her. It’s as simple as that. That way, if something comes up and you don’t see each other one weekend, you don’t end up acting like your life is over.”

Jeb paused before continuing. “It just isn’t natural what you two are trying to do, and in the long run, it isn’t going to work. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” Garrett said simply, wishing his father would stop talking about it.

His father cocked his eyebrow, waiting. When Garrett didn’t add anything else, Jeb spoke again.

“ ‘I know’? That’s all you have to say?”

He shrugged. “What else can I say?”

“You can say that the next time you see her, you two are going to figure this out. That’s what you can say.”

“Fine—we’ll try to figure it out.”

jeb put his fork down and glared at his son. “I didn’t say try, Garrett, I said that you two are going to figure this out.”

“Why are you so adamant about it?”

“Because,” he said, “if you two don’t figure it out, you and me are going to keep eating alone for the next twenty years.”

* * *

The following day, Garrett took Happenstance out first thing in the morning and stayed on the water until after the sun went down. Though Theresa had left a message for him with her hotel information in Dallas, he hadn’t called last night, telling himself that it was too late and that she was already asleep. It was a lie and he knew it, but he simply didn’t feel like talking to her yet.

The fact was, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. He was still angry at what she’d done, and the best place for him to think about it was out on the ocean, where no one could bother him. Most of the morning he found himself wondering if she realized how much this whole thing bothered him. More than likely she didn’t—he convinced himself—otherwise she wouldn’t have done it.

That is, if she cared about him.

By the time the sun rose higher in the sky, however, his anger began to fade. As he thought more clearly about the situation, he decided that his father had been right—as usual. Her reason for not coming didn’t reflect on him as much as it reflected on the differences in their lives. She did have responsibilities she couldn’t ignore, and as long as they continued to live separate lives, things like this were going to keep coming up.

Though he wasn’t happy about it, he wondered if all relationships had moments like these. If truth be told, he didn’t know. The only other real relationship he’d ever had was with catherine, and it wasn’t easy to compare the two. he and Catherine were married and living under the same roof, for one thing. Even more, they’d known each other most of their lives, and because they were younger, they didn’t have the same responsibilities that either Garrett or Theresa had now. They were fresh out of college, they didn’t own a home, and there certainly weren’t any children to care for. No—what they had was completely different from what he and Theresa had now, and it wasn’t fair to try to link them.

Still, there was one thing he couldn’t ignore, one thing that nagged at him throughout the afternoon. Yes, he knew there were differences—yes, he knew it wasn’t fair to compare them—but in the end, what stood out for him was the fact that he had never questioned whether he and Catherine were a team . Never once did he question the future with her, never once did it enter his mind that either one of them wouldn’t sacrifice everything for the other. Even when they’d had their fights—about where to live, whether to start the shop, or even what to do on Saturday nights—it wasn’t as if either one of them doubted their relationship. There was something long-term in the way they interacted with each other, something that reminded him that they would always be together.

Theresa and he, on the other hand, didn’t have that yet.

By the time the sun went down, he realized it wasn’t fair to think this way. He and Theresa had known each other only for a short period of time—it wasn’t realistic to expect it so soon. Given enough time—and the right circumstances—they would become a team as well.

Wouldn’t they?

Shaking his head, he realized he wasn’t exactly sure.

he wasn’t sure about a lot of things.

But one thing he did know—he hadn’t ever analyzed his relationship with Catherine the way he was doing with Theresa, and this wasn’t fair, either. Besides, analysis wasn’t going to help him in this situation. All the analysis in the world didn’t change the fact that they didn’t see each other as much as they wanted—or needed—to.

No—what they needed now was action.

* * *

Garrett called Theresa as soon as he got home that evening.

“Hello,” she answered sleepily.

He spoke softly into the phone. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Garrett?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’d left a couple of messages on my answering machine.”

“I’m glad you called. I wasn’t sure you were going to.”

“For a while, I didn’t want to.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Sad, maybe, but not mad.”

“Because I’m not there this weekend?”

“No. Because you’re not here most weekends.”

* * *

That night he dreamed again.

In his dream Theresa and he were in Boston, walking along one of the busy city streets, crowded with the usual collection of individuals—men and women, old and young, some dressed in suits, others in the baggy clothing typical of today’s youth. For a while, they window-shopped just as they had on one of his previous visits. The day was clear and bright, without a cloud in the sky, and Garrett was enjoying spending the day with her.

theresa stopped at the window of a small craft store and asked if Garrett wanted to go inside. Shaking his head, he said, “You go ahead. I’ll wait for you here.” Theresa made sure he was certain, then stepped inside. Garrett stood outside the door, relaxing in the shade of the tall buildings, when he saw something familiar out of the corner of his eye.

It was a woman, walking along the sidewalk a little distance away, her blond hair just brushing her shoulders.

He blinked, glanced away for a moment, and turned back quickly. Something in the way she moved struck him, and he watched her as she slowly moved away. Finally the woman stopped and turned her head, as if remembering something. Garrett felt his breath catch.

Catherine .

It couldn’t be.

He shook his head. At this distance he couldn’t tell if he was mistaken or not.