Before, There Was You

by Kit Harlow

  “Yeah, well, I’ve changed,” I responded lamely. The weight of the awkward silence came crashing around us. I turned my attention to the cursor again. I wanted to end this. I didn't want to talk to her. It was painful—constant reminders of what we had been and the fact that it had fallen apart. Through no fault of mine, I told myself. Yet neither of us was willing to take the first step, to walk away and pretend neither of us still cared. I'd tried, damn it.

  A hand came between me and the computer screen.

  “Come on,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “Let's go get a beer. You can go back to writing afterward, but if you don't leave now, you'll stay all night and have nothing by morning. I am NOT going to let you burn yourself out now.” Katie sounded determined. I looked at her hand and then met her eyes.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. We'd been trying to work well together, really trying. I'd found it difficult. “I don't think that's such a good idea,” I whispered. "Besides, I really need to get this done."

  Katie scoffed. “Because you're getting so much work done right now,” she said, clearly baiting me. “Come on," she insisted. "No strings. I promise.” She crossed her heart. I was skeptical. “One beer and me as a sounding board. Nothing personal. Just work.” She raised her eyebrows, impatiently waiting for me to make a decision. "Besides, it's my reputation on the line too, ya know. I did take all those lovely pictures for you." She smiled, the dim light glistening in her eyes.

  I took her hand. Her grip was firm, but light as she hauled me to my feet. As soon as I was standing, she released it, but still, I felt like we'd crossed a boundary. Like maybe we could salvage some semblance of a friendship out of the tatters of our past.

  She smiled at me, almost like it was the beginning. It was gentle. The past was there, but there was hope. I'd never admit it, but I missed her.

  Together, we walked out of the dark office, my blinking cursor continuing in the background. The hallway echoed with our footsteps as we walked down the worn marble-lined corridor to the old elevator and eventually out into the cold.

  Katie hailed a cab and held the door for me. She wasn't exactly overcompensating, but she was trying to be overly nice. Overly welcoming. Overly helpful. The ride itself was peaceful enough. We held light conversation, sticking to topics like the weather and speculation on how the Red Sox would do next season. I looked out the window and watched the city pass by, historic buildings mixed with new construction as we passed through the financial district. The water was glistening with starlight and streetlight and I felt enchanted by the city. This was why I moved here. This. All of this. That I was in a cab with my ex-girlfriend turned co-worker had nothing to do with it. Truth be told, it was odd.

  Still, the night was beautiful and I found myself falling in love with the city even more. The cab came to a stop outside JJ Foley's. I stifled a laugh. Katie had always been one for dive bars. It was nice to see she'd upped her standards.

  I started to pull money from my purse only to have Katie's hand bat mine away. She swiped her card in the card reader, jumped out of the cab, and got my door. Out of what I assumed was habit, I let her. She linked arms with mine like we were old friends and dragged me to the door. It would have been so easy to live that delusion, to accept that she wanted to be friends. Instead, my fight or flight response kicked in—I pulled away quickly, ignoring the hurt look she cast my way for a split second.

  The bar was dark, but welcoming. Warm tones, Irish decor, and the smell of fried fish took me back to our college days where we would hole up in the local pub and study over pint after pint of beer. Katie went straight to the bar, presumably to place an order, while I took over a booth. I put my coat on the seat and turned to head to the bar only to see Katie coming towards me, glass of scotch in one hand, Harp lager in the other. She smiled as she scooted into the booth, placing the glasses on the scratched, slightly sticky table.

  “So,” she said, sipping on her scotch. “What's the story?”

  I stared at the glass. “You ordered for me?”

  Katie had the decency to look upset with herself, though I don't know if she really was. “I, uh,” she stammered. “I'm sorry. I just...I guess I didn't think. Habit. I'll take it back,” she stammered, grabbing the pint glass and sliding out of the booth.

  “Don't,” I said. Katie stopped mid-step. “I'm just surprised you remembered what I like.” Of course she'd remember. She remembered everything and always had. It wasn't like we were together for a brief two month span. We'd been partners. I’d thought I’d eventually marry the girl! For chrissake, she probably remembered how I folded my socks!

  I stared at her, hoping she would come up with some kind of quip, some statement that would alleviate the tension at the table. God, I sucked at this. How does one move from being a bitter ex to a co-worker?

  Katie licked her lips and blinked a few times before sitting back down without saying a word. The glass was still in her hand.

  “Can I have my beer?” I asked. She quickly handed it over to me.

  I watched her take a deep breath, collecting herself. Truth be told, I was relieved to know she was struggling with this too. There's something gratifying about vindication. I'm not proud of myself.

  “So, what's the piece that has you so stuck?” she tried again.

  "Just a theater review. I'm just not sure where to even begin, which is pathetic. I started my career writing reviews. You'd think I'd be able to slam one out without thinking.” I took a sip of my beer, realizing liquid courage might make this night easier to tolerate.

  “What play is it?” Katie asked. We'd reviewed several over the past few weeks and she'd shot all of them. This was the only one I struggled with.

  “Me and Him.”

  Katie nearly spat out her scotch. “The gay play? You're struggling to write a review of an indie gay drama? Seriously?” She started laughing out loud.

  “What?” I said indignantly. Katie shook her head. “What?” I asked again.

  She snorted. “It's just, wow! When you go straight, I guess you go all the way.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You have,” she quipped back, not missing a beat. I glared at her, feeling my cheeks turn hot. Still, it was better than the awkward silence. She snickered. “Okay, okay...” she sobered. She was still smirking, smug that I was uncomfortable. “What's getting you so stuck?”

  “I don't know.” I scratched my nose. It always itches when I'm nervous. I'm not really sure why, but it's always been that way. And right now, Katie was making me nervous. “Maybe it's just the subject matter.” It hit a little too close to home for my comfort. I wasn't going to go into detail about that though.

  Katie's eyebrows shot up. “What, a failed relationship? Two people that struggle to put their lives back together? To move on? Cuz that sounds pretty fucking familiar to me. You even have personal experience to draw off of. This review should practically write itself,” she said angrily.

  “Hey,” I replied just barely holding my temper in check. “That's not fair.” I was struggling to keep my voice down. "I never asked for this," I snapped.

  "Asked for what?" Katie was glowering, glass gripped firmly in her hand. I half expected it to shatter in her hand. Still, she was trying to calm down, to be civil. I hoped.

  "For this." I gestured at her. "For you to come back into my life. To see you again," I whispered harshly, leaning against the table for emphasis. "I thought we were done when you walked out on me." I ignored the fierce sense of anger rising in me.

  "I walked out on you?" Katie asked loudly, hurt clear in her eyes. "You abandoned me," she spat out. I rolled my eyes and Katie pursed her lips and sighed, visibly collecting herself, holding her tongue. “Look, I'm trying here. I'm trying to help and I'm trying to be friendly, to bury the hatchet. I'm not good at this.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. We'd never had the chance to hash out our differences and this wasn't precisely how I'd wanted it to happen. I would have preferre
d an angry letter or phone call. Public confrontation was her forte though.

  “I'm not the one that started this, remember. You left me for a fucking job,” I whispered. Part of me wanted desperately to pretend that we were okay, that the past could stay in the past. The other part of me wanted to yell, to tell her all the things that had crossed my mind the day she left. I hated that it still hurt. I hated seeing her and feeling a twinge of the old heartbreak every day. It was agony.

  “You were the one that wouldn't support me,” she said quickly going on the defensive. “I asked you to come with me. I asked you to fucking marry me!” Her voice was rising in volume. She clenched her jaw to get herself back under control. “You were the one that said no,” she hissed.

  “Because it felt like an ultimatum!” I spat back. The heartbreak was gone, replaced firmly by anger and I remembered why I wanted to forget her. “Jesus! I never should have agreed to this.”

  I took a deep breath, put my beer on the table, picked up my coat and stood up. “Thanks,” I said, eyes narrowing, “for the reminder.” I turned to walk away.

  “Fuck, Lizzie!” Katie whispered. Something in her tone made me turn around. I looked at her. Her head was buried in her hands and when she looked up, I thought I saw the beginnings of tears. “I'm sorry,” she said meeting my eyes. “I'm sorry. I really am.”

  Still holding my coat, I sat back down.

  Kate licked her lips. “I just—seeing you, working with you, it's hard. I'm trying not to be a dick. I'm trying not to be THAT ex-girlfriend." She shook her head and bit her lip while she organized her thoughts. "I want to start over. I want to be friends. And if we can't do that, at least coworkers who don't hate each other. I've missed you.”

  I hadn't ever seen her be this honest. Usually she danced around the truth and found ways to skip opening up. Even when we were together, she was closed-lipped.

  I just sat there, staring at her, feeling, well, confused. Part of me was elated. She missed me and it felt good. The other part of me, the bitter part of me, hated her. Hated her for leaving, for choosing New York over me. I told myself I would never have made the choice she did. But thinking about it, years later, I wasn't so sure of my conviction.

  She searched my face for something, some hint of what I was thinking. “Say something,” she entreated me. “Please,” her voice cracked.

  I took a shaky breath. There was a lump in my throat. I pushed it down, swallowing unshed tears because I refused to cry in front of her. I wouldn't give her that power. Still, my eyes burned with the effort.

  “I don't know,” I replied.

  “You don't know?”

  “I don't know. It's been years, Kate, and I've changed. You've changed. Hell, look at us...we're completely different people. I'm not sure we can be friends.” I took a breath again and held it for a few seconds. “It's too hard.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I rubbed at my eyes, smearing my mascara and not caring one bit. “I'm done with the past. I'm married now David and I are thinking about kids, and life, and our future. How can I bring all that shit back into my life now that it's finally getting started? I can't.”

  “What shit?” Katie asked, voice flat and eyes narrowed.

  I scratched my nose again. “Us.” I shrugged my shoulders. “There's too much baggage. It's not like we can just pick up where we left off. You broke my heart. And just when I think I'm back to normal and not looking for signs of...of you...” My eyes stung. I wasn't sure if it was from the mascara or from my emotions. “I can't.”

  Katie stared at me in silence. Her face was blank, eyes veiled in her carefully schooled mask of indifference. I braced myself for the explosion I knew would never come; Katie always held it together when she put her mind to it.

  “I'm happy to keep working with you. I'm happy to go to assignments together, but a professional relationship is where I have to leave it. I have a life now...I have plans.”

  Kate nodded, stood up, pausing briefly to look at me. It was an eerily similar expression to the one she'd had that night. Disappointed, angry, and completely and utterly hurt. It was like the heartbreak was written on her face and I'd somehow reopened wounds we both thought had closed years ago. I wanted to look away.

  "You're not the only one whose heart was broken, you know." Then she walked out of the bar, leaving me sitting in the booth alone, which was exactly what I needed. But was it what I wanted?

  ◆◆◆

  I went home shortly thereafter. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and hide under the covers from the mess of my past, but I was still wired. I pulled out my laptop and sat on the couch, hoping that somehow I could successfully write the review. I had been approaching it more traditionally, focusing on the quality of the acting, the lighting, and the set design. Point of fact, it was not an artistic piece. It was a play about life and that was what I needed to see, to shift my focus to. Sitting there, on that worn couch, I closed my eyes and let the words come.

  "In every life, people make connections," I said aloud, typing as I spoke. "We have friends, family, husbands, wives, lovers. Each is special in their own way. But there's always some lingering question, some what if that perpetually goes unanswered. Imagine you were given the chance to answer that what if. Would you take it? Some connections are so profound they echo throughout the rest of our lives. Me and Him is not a play about the gay community or an affair. It's a tale about life. The subtle truth DeAngelo writes into the story is applicable for everyone regardless of age, gender, or sexuality. The story is universal. So look past the labels, the phobia. When you see the play, see the life, the truth, the beauty captured in its purest essence. Just open your eyes." I stared at my screen, feeling accomplished but shaky on the quality of the piece. It would have to do.

  Chapter 4

  Gradually, I started to make friends at work, unsurprisingly with Nate and Stephanie. David had yet to come and visit and I was starting to loath going home every night to an empty apartment. When Nate broke up with his boyfriend, I latched onto the opportunity to hit the town with someone—anyone. We made our way to The Midway with Stephanie in tow. Stephanie and I took to the dance floor for a few minutes before I noticed one of the waitresses making eyes at her. To give her a chance, I stepped off the floor and took up a seat at a booth in the corner.

  After the next few songs, both Nate and Stephanie made their way over to me and worked to catch their breath. My eyes fell on the dart board across the way and the woman who was throwing dart after dart into the bullseye. My heart sank.

  Stephanie followed my gaze and her jaw dropped.

  “Holy shit, the bitch has a social life!”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah, well, everyone needs to get out now and then.” My fists clenched when I saw a woman walk up behind her, wrapping her arms around Katie’s waist.

  “Oh lord!” Stephanie groaned. “It’s the fuck of the night,” she hissed angrily. “Can’t she keep it in her pants for one evening?”

  “What?” I squeaked.

  “Kate’s the perpetual one-night-stand kind of girl,” Nate explained. “Steph knows that all too well.”

  Stephanie blinked and blushed.

  I turned and looked at Stephanie, struggling to suppress my own feelings of jealousy on the issue. "You and Kat?" I asked, unconsciously balling my fist. Only the bite of my fingernails in my palm made me stop and relax.

  "Well, sort of." She took a deep breath. "I mean, she's gorgeous. But, fuck, is she shallow!"

  "How long?" I asked, hoping my voice was more level than I felt. Nate put his hand on my knee, either in warning or support, I wasn't sure. Still, I appreciated the gesture.

  "Like Nate said, it was a one-night stand," Steph said softly, cheeks blushing. "She told me it was fun, but didn't even stay the night!"

  I immediately felt a rush of relief. Underneath it all, there was a strange feeling of guilt. When I'd known Katie, she loathed the idea of one night stands. At the time, she'd firml
y believed if you were going to be intimate with someone, you needed to commit on some level. Flings just didn't do that. Not for the first time, I wondered what had happened in New York, what events caused her to shift from the Katie I knew into the cold and distant ice queen everyone else was familiar with.

  We sat in silence for a moment before the waitress came over and scooped Stephanie up for a dance on her break. Nate stared at me, eyes tight.

  "What?"

  "How long were you together?" he asked quietly.

  I looked down at my hands, not wanting to answer his questions, but knowing I should—it could be cathartic. After all, I hadn't discussed the break up with anyone. Ever.

  "Six years." I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else.

  When I opened them, Katie was watching me. She was doing her best to make it look like she was watching someone else, but I knew her tricks. She was alone again, for the moment, and I took the opportunity to study her face from a distance. I felt voyeuristic. How many chances does one person get to check up on their ex of several years? I got them every day.

  Nate put his hand over mine, squeezing gently. "She broke your heart, didn't she?"

  I nodded slowly. "More than I care to admit. And now I have to see her every day. It's not the most comfortable thing in the world." I watched as the other woman came up and felt a strange pang of jealousy when Kate's face lit up. She used to look at me like that. She stood, donned her jacket, and gestured to the woman who waited by the bar while Katie walked towards us.

  My heart pounded in my chest and my palms immediately got sweaty. Nate straightened up and smiled. "Hey, bitch!" he said happily. Katie smiled.

  I tried to keep my face blank even though my heart was racing. Not for the first time, I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. Part of me hoped she missed me.

  "Sorry to hear about you and Peter," Katie said, keeping her eyes fixed on Nathan.

  He smiled. "Thanks.”

  Nate looked over her shoulder at the woman waiting by the bar. "New date?" he asked, mischief coloring his voice.