Page 33 of Pity Parade

In most of the photographs, Heath is either wearing a tuxedo or nice suit. He’s at charity events, grand openings, the opera, the ballet … on and on it goes until I wonder if he ever spends a night at home. My attention shifts to the women he’s with. No one appears more than twice. My face scrunches up as I realize my initial impression of him was true—Heath Fox is a man whore.

He appears to have dated every socialite, actress, and model in Chicago, and all the women gaze at him adoringly. Except for his business partner, Shelby. She’s always photographed blurred and mid-expression, like she never stops moving.

Shifting back to the articles, I read that Heath claims to be too busy to date. One reporter asked him about his wife, and he simply responded that he doesn’t have a wife. Even so, a wave of nausea rolls over me. Has Heath ever been married? And if so, why doesn’t anyone talk about it?

I type “Heath Fox, wife” into the search engine box, and a handful of articles pop up. One of them is an engagement notice from over fifteen years ago, and one of them is a wedding announcement. I scroll down the page until I spot something that makes my throat tighten.

The article is dated over ten years ago.

Jessica Margaret Fox was found dead in her home on September 9 by her husband, real estate agent Heath Fox. Jessica was seven months pregnant with their first child when she succumbed to a brain aneurysm. She and Heath had been married five years and were looking forward to being parents.

Holy heck. I never knew Heath had been married. The seeming lack of public awareness suggests most people don’t.

He’s certainly survived some mitigating circumstances that have made a huge impact on his life. Not only did he lose his wife, but he also lost his child. That kind of grief must be nearly impossible to overcome.

I finally understand why Heath doesn’t want to get serious about anyone. He’s scared. Closing the laptop, I try to imagine how I should act when I see him again. Because let’s face it, I’m going to. If the last couple of days are anything to go by, he’s going to show up where I least expect him to.

I remind myself that even though Heath has had a rough go of it, that doesn’t give him the right to interfere with my life. As unkind as this might sound, that’s his problem, not mine. I have my own troubles that if I don’t address, will only get worse.

Turning off the lights, I sink under the covers before flipping my pillow onto the cold side. My focus needs to be on getting out of this television show of Tom’s. And the only way to do that is to steer clear of complications like Heath Fox.

Closing my eyes, I try to force unconsciousness, but I don’t have any luck. My brain spins in circles. Is Heath aware that he’s afraid to fall in love, or is he just a playboy with no desire to commit for his own selfish reasons? Does he miss having a wife? Was he a good husband? Stop. Thinking. About. Heath.

I nudge my brain back to thoughts of my last date with Daniel. We went on a dinner cruise down the Chicago River with a group of surgeons from the hospital. A colleague of his asked us if we were getting serious. I was about to answer that we were moving in that direction, but Daniel cut me off by telling her that we’d only just begun seeing each other.

When she walked away, I reminded him that we were on our eleventh date. “Really?” He seemed surprised. “I didn’t think it had been that many.”

I might have chosen to take that as a compliment—like spending time with me was so easy it simply flew by—but I don’t think that’s how he meant it.

“Do you see a future for us?” I asked him. His lack of immediate response was all I needed to know.

When he finally spoke, he said, “My most recent relationship lasted three years. I don’t see myself getting into something serious for a long time.”

Even though I told him I understood, I really wanted to push him off the boat. When he dropped me off at my apartment that night, I wasn’t surprised when he suggested, “I think we should take a break.”

I countered with, “I think you should just be honest and say you want out.”

Daniel nodded his head sadly. That was two years ago, and according to the internet, he’s still single. The question is, is he ready to change his status or is he still clinging to it with the same fervor Heath is?

I eventually fall asleep, but my dreams are ridiculous. I dream that I’ve been invited to a wedding, and I show up wearing a bridal gown. I’m already in the church when I realize how wrong this is, so I try to stay hidden toward the back.

I have no idea who the groom is because he’s standing with his back toward the congregation. When the processional music starts, everyone turns to watch the bride come down the aisle. She’s so heavily veiled, it’s impossible to recognize any of her features. But even so, there’s something vaguely familiar about her.

When she arrives at the altar, the minister says, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to bring together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” He turns to the bride. “Do you, Jessica Margaret Mason, take Heath Jeremy Fox to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I nearly stand up and run out of the church, but I don’t have time before the bride answers, “I don’t.” A low hum of chatter overtakes the congregation, so she speaks louder to be heard. “I won’t be here long enough to live a full life with Heath.”

Heath looks absolutely devastated. “I don’t care how long you’ll be here. I love you and I want to marry you.”

Jessica steps backward and retreats down the aisle. She stops when she gets to my pew and gestures for me to join her. Standing, I float toward her in a way that only happens in dreams. In reality, the entire line of people I was sitting with would have had to get up and move out of my way.

“Trina,” Jessica says. “Please join Heath at the altar.”

What? “No,” I tell her. “He loves you!”

“But I’m leaving and he’s going to need help adjusting to that.”

“I won’t be any man’s second choice,” I tell her. Even as I say this, I realize that’s not the reason I won’t go to him. I don’t love Heath, and he certainly doesn’t love me. Which makes me wonder why in the world his wife would be trying to set us up.

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