Marla is staring across the room at Richard as he sniffs the newest glass of wine that’s been set in front of him. This is the second winery he’s been in today. He doesn’t notice her trying to get his attention. This doesn’t surprise her. After thirty eight years of marriage, nothing he does phases her anymore. Not his liver cancer he beat four years ago, or this impromptu, impulsive cruise trip to Italy. She pulls her hair off of her neck, clipping it up with a barrette from her purse. She pulls on her peach-colored blouse and it peels away from her chest like a second skin. Oblivious to those seated around the bar, she stands with her shirt pulled open, absorbing the manufactured cool air on her chest.

Richard promised her that he would try better to monitor his drinking this time. She glances at the line of empty glasses in front of him, shaking her head before heading out through the double doors into the fresh air. The sidewalks are bustling with prospective tourists. Some of them she recognizes from the cruise ship. She can see Richard joking with the balding man on the stool beside him through the front window. His hand is gripping the bar’s edge, so it’s clear that he’s buzzed.

Glancing down, the muscles in her arms feel strained against the weight of all the shopping bags surrounding her. The various window displays across the street are beautiful. A pink building showcases various perfumes, on an aged wooden table. Fresh flowers placed inside vases add pops of color to the glass containers. Gray metal buckets overflow with fresh flowers on the outskirts of the front door. Oddly enough, it reminds her of her mother-in-law’s garden back in Massachusetts. She makes a mental note to stop in before they get back on the ship.

If it were up to Marla, she would be on a plane right now. She would go back to their home and begin packing up her life into the banana boxes that she has saved in the basement.

It’s been eight months since Marla’s world shattered. She was making herself a late night martini, when she heard Richard come in well after midnight. His tie wasn’t slanted and his shirt was tucked in perfectly. From her view across the kitchen’s island, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He came up beside her, kissing her with a passion she hadn’t felt from him in years. That was how she knew.

This trip was meant as an elaborate apology. She had met Richard decades ago when she picked up a shift as a waitress at the local pub. He was charming and continued to pursue her for the rest of the night. That continued for the next two years. He had been previously married, but explained that it was young love and he was naive and that he hardly counted it as an actual marriage -it only lasted for six months. When he proposed to Marla, he promised her that he was sure about her and that he was ready to be a real married man.

Taking a seat underneath a shade tree, Marla’s careful not to disturb the man sleeping on the other end. A silent tear rolls down her cheek and she’s quick to swipe it away. Taking a quick glance at the man beside her, she notices his gray beard and how it helps to mask the hollowness of his face. He reminds her of Rip Van Winkle.

She pulls out her phone from her purse, responding back to the messages her children left her this morning.

‘Be safe!’

‘Have a great time!’

The last message was from her oldest daughter. The one who truly knows how unhappy she is. ‘Call if you need anything.’

The same intrusive thought enters her mind again as she responds to each message. Looking at the newest photo of her grandson that her middle daughter sent her, Marla wonders what her life would’ve been like if she’d never gotten married and become a mother.

Would she have been happier? Marla’s palms begin to sweat, creating greasy smudges on her otherwise pristine screen.

“Ma’am? Are you alright?” The man’s voice is as coarse as his beard and she can feel the wood moaning as he sits himself upright.

Marla nods as another tear slides down her face. She expects to be asked if she’d like to talk about what’s bothering her and is relieved to be met with silence instead.

“Marriage is hard.” He says it the same way Marla’s marriage counselor said it during their first session.

Marla can’t see a wedding ring on the man’s finger, nor can she see a faint line of lighter skin.

“The author has been looking for you, you know. He received your letter.” Marla’s lips quiver as she shuts her eyes, oddly feeling embarrassed and exposed.

She had seen the ad in the paper months prior, before Richard cheated. A simple gray and white box hidden amongst the rest of the classified ads. Someone proclaiming to call themselves ‘The Author’ could give you a do-over. All that was required was an explanation. That night, under the lonely glow of the kitchen light, she sat and wrote out everything she hated about her marriage. The anger and hurt inside of her erupted, and her words followed.

Leaning in, Marla’s voice cracks as she asks “Are you…” she gestures to him and he smiles.

“No,” he whispers. “I’m just the messenger.” He pulls out a crumbled slip of paper from his corduroy pants and hands it to her, giving her a nod that feels like their private secret.

After he’s long out of sight, Marla unravels the paper. She doesn’t recognize the address and instead searches it on her phone. It directs her to a green patch that seems to reveal nothing. Putting her phone away, Richard steps out, squinting out into the crowds, clearly looking for Marla and clearly oblivious to her sitting quietly on the bench.

He sits down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He digs into the largest shopping bag at her feet, pulling out the sweater she bought for herself. The cream fabric felt like silk in between her fingers when she held it against herself in the boutique’s mirror. The shop owner convinced her that the pearls sewn around the collar paired beautifully against the creaminess of her own skin.

Something about the way Richard balls it back into the bag, makes her stomach twist. She can practically feel his frustration seething just under the surface.

He folds his arms, looking straight out across the street. “Nice sweater.” His tone is like ice.

“Did you enjoy the samples?” She asks. He nods and tells her about all the bottles he purchased.

She thinks about confronting him there in the moment. It was a tactic that her therapist instructed her that she needed to work on. ‘You need to deal with it in the moment, Marla’ her therapist would say over her clipboard.

Instead, Marla keeps quiet. She gives Richard another look, studying each of his features. His eyes are closed and she can smell the sweet hints of cinnamon each time he exhales. She thinks about the triumphs they’ve shared together. She loves her three daughters more than life itself. They help her in forgetting the daily struggles she endures with Richard.

Taking a finalizing breath, she stands up, leaving all of the bags at her feet, pulling out the sweater and holding it to her chest.

“Have you made any other plans for today?”

He wipes his nose on the edge of his thumb and shakes his head. “Probably just take the cases of wine over to the ship and then take a nap. Why? Do you have plans for us or-“

Marla shakes her head. “No. But I think I’m going to go out and-“ the words lodge themselves in her throat, giving her one final opportunity to change her mind. “-find myself.”

Richard seems completely disinterested, smashing his lips against her cheek before heading back inside the building.

Marla hails a taxi and takes one final look at her husband, until he fades from her view. The fresh air invigorates her soul as she stares out at the endless vineyards. The address she’d given the driver didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest. Maybe this address isn’t just an empty patch of land? A few minutes later, the gravel crunches under the tires and an extravagant home peers out from behind the forest of trees.

The house appears even larger from here, with its wrap-around porch and extravagant landscaping. The inside of her cheek is bloodied and sore from all the indecision she’s feeling. As she turns back down the front steps, the front door opens. A older man who couldn’t be much taller than her oldest granddaughter stands. He says nothing to her and she instead focuses her attention on the wisps of smoke rising from the pipe hanging from his lips.

“It’s alright Marla, you can come in.” She nods and steps inside. The extravagance outside was a stark contrast compared to the bareness inside. Most of the rooms appear bare, with the exception of an occasional lamp and table. He leads her to a room with a large mahogany desk sitting in the center. She takes a seat across from him, unsure if she should be the first to speak.

“Are you happy Marla?” He blows out his pipe smoke through his nose as he stares at her.

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

His eyebrows raise and he pulls out a sheet of paper with scratched penmanship. “This letter didn’t sound like it was coming from someone who wasn’t sure.” He slides the paper across the desk and Marla leans in, noticing the stains her tears left scattered across the page.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have gone a different route.” She admits.

He nods. “What would you have changed?”

Marla thinks about his question for a long time, before sharing her dreams of traveling and owning her own boutique; the dreams she’d shoved away and forgotten about. The man never interrupts her and let’s her take her time when the words get stuck in her throat. By the time she finishes, her face is wet again. She isn’t sad. She’s angry at herself.

“I get a lot of letters, you see.” Her eyes follow to the stack of papers he has in a pile in the corner of the room. “People asking me for a second chance, people unhappy and asking for a do-over.” He shrugs. “Most of them are young and I ignore their requests. They have their whole lives ahead of them, where they will inevitably make more mistakes. I can’t come in and fix every little issue they’ll have.”

His words remind Marla of a speech her own mother had given her when she was young and foolish. Back when her dreams were endless, and Marla didn’t care how ridiculous they sounded. Back when she felt passion and life.

“I can help you.” He goes across the room to his bookshelf, grabs a thin stack of papers and sets them in front of her. ‘FINAL DECISIONS’ is written in large print at the top of the paper. Underneath, paragraphs have been compiled out of her letter - traits that Richard has that she secretly hates, the way his decisions impact her life, and the lack of awareness or compassion he seems to show Marla. Seeing it all in front of her again, makes the idea of returning to her life an impossibility.

“I go by ‘The Author’ here. I possess the ability to give you a do-over, but only if that’s what you want.”

She closes her eyes, memories of her daughters sprouting all over. She wants a fresh start, but can’t fathom doing it without them.

The Author gives her a gentle smile. “They’ll still be with you.” He pauses. “They just won’t remember who Richard is.”

Marla turns to the last page, where a blank line awaits her signature. “What happens if I sign this?”

He chuckles. “Well, the reflection in the mirror won’t exactly change. Your memories however, will.”

“Will Richard’s?” She asks.

He nods. “Like two strangers.”

“My daughters?”

“No change.”

Marla stares at the golden-tipped calligraphy pen laying on the table for a long time, before picking it up and signing her name across the blank line.

“What happens now?” She asks. The Author picks up the stack of documents, grabs a match from inside his desk and lights it on fire. Bright blue sparks jump off the paper. She notices that the paper is taking far longer than normal to burn into ash.

“When this paper finishes burning, it’ll take effect. You two will be strangers again.”

The paper is half burnt now.

“What if I make the same mistake again?” She asks. “I won’t remember how horrible my life with him was.”

“You won’t remember Richard exactly. But you’ll recognize his type, don’t you think? Besides, you’re older now than you were then.”

Marla stares at what little paper remains. In a few seconds, her life will forever be changed.

“Go after what you want, Marla. This is your life.”

After the taxi returns Marla back to the front of the winery tasting building, she takes in the salt water and fresh air. She pulls out a cream sweater from her purse and slips it on, admiring her reflection in the glass windows. She can feel her phone vibrating and there on the lock screen is a photo of her youngest daughter with her boyfriend, the message captioned ‘I said yes!’

Inside the winery, she steps up and sits next to a balding man who appears to be in his late fifties. A box sits beside him on the tabletop.

His eyes meet hers and he gives her a charming smile. “You like to drink?” He slaps his hand on top of the box. “I’ve got more than enough to share. This is my second case. I’ve got another one on the ship, if you’re interested.”

There’s something in his words that charms Marla. She gives him a laugh, tilting her head back. When she regains her composure, she stares back at him, taking in his face.

She takes a deep breath. “You know what…I’m good.”

He shrugs and lugs his case with him out the front door.

Twisting on her stool, Marla looks out at the groups of tourists coming in, laughing and giving her polite smiles as they pass her by.

She can’t place it exactly, but something in her chest feels…free.