by Carian Cole
“I’m working on it. Did you bring your W-2?”
He grins. “I see you haven’t changed.”
“Never. But you on the other hand….” She eyes him like lunch. “If I’d known you’d end up looking like this I would have snagged you in high school myself.”
I wish I could flirt as effortlessly as Ditra does. I’m not good at it and always end up saying something awkward or realize after the fact that I had something stuck in my teeth the entire time.
“Ditra is babysitting for me.” I open the hall closet door and take out my coat. “But she’s admitted she only agreed to so she could check you out.”
“That’s flattering and disturbing. You sure it’s safe to leave your daughter with her?” He smiles playfully at Ditra. “You have any experience taking care of kids?”
“Yes, lots. I’ve been dating them for years.”
“That was a good one,” I say, leaning down to kiss Lyric’s forehead. “Mommy’s going out for a little while and Aunt Dee is going to stay and play with you, okay?”
She nods without looking up from her favorite picture book that’s open on her lap. I’m not sure if I should be grateful or disappointed that she’s not a little bit upset. I never go out at night, so this is new for her. I expected questions or brief pouting, but she’s unconcerned.
“Piper, she’ll be fine. Go out and have fun for once.” She glances over at Josh. “All this girl does is work. I’m surprised you’re getting her out of the house.”
“We’re leaving.” I grab Josh’s arm before Ditra can reveal more embarrassing facts about me. “Don’t eat too much junk and don’t forget to take Acorn out.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I’ve never been to the steakhouse Josh is taking me to, and I’m relieved he made a reservation because there’s a line of people out the door when we pull into the parking lot. I’m not one of those people who love food enough to wait forty minutes or longer for it with a pager in my hand. I’d rather hit a drive-thru and grab a burger and fries and just be done with it.
From the moment we get in the car we fall into easy, relaxed conversation. We’ve run into each other and talked on the phone sporadically since we officially broke up, but that stopped years ago when I met Blue, and I have a hunch that’s the same time Josh got involved, too. Being friends first and foremost has prevented time or distance from affecting us. Josh and I could probably go ten years without seeing each other and still be just as comfortable with each other as we were when we last saw each other. Right now, that’s stability I could use in my life.
“Are you still working for the same company?” Josh asks as we open our menus.
The menu has a brown leather cover and is printed on parchment paper. It feels heavy and foreign in my hands and I long for the plastic laminated menus that my favorite diner has. I feel out of place sitting in this dim room with white tablecloth-covered tables and flickering candles. The piano music drifting from hidden speakers is probably meant to be romantic but I find it annoying, almost mocking.
I don’t want to be in this fancy restaurant with Josh. I want to be in the diner with Blue eating hamburgers and drinking cherry soda.
“I am,” I reply. “But now I’m in marketing and ad campaigns. I love it, I’m never bored.”
“That’s better than answering phones, huh?” Years ago, he used to call the office and ask me strange questions in a fake accent just to break up the boredom of my day.
“Definitely. So, what about you? Are you still in accounting?”
He puts his menu off to the side. “Yeah, but only part time.”
I glance at him with budding curiosity. “Oh? What are you doing with the other part of your time?”
“Modeling and acting,” he says with a big smile.
I stare at him, waiting for him to say he’s just kidding. But he’s serious. “Modeling and acting?” I repeat. “Really?”
He grabs a roll from the basket on the center of the table and takes a bite out of it. He chews and swallows before he answers. “Yeah.”
“Josh! That’s so freakin’ amazing! What kind of work have you done?”
“Nothing memorable or overly exciting yet. Fashion shoots, and a couple walk-on parts for television and a cable movie. It’s a lot of fun. I never thought in a million years I’d be doing anything like this.”
“I’m blown away. And so proud of you. I never even knew you wanted to model or act.”
“Me either. I just kind of fell into it. I met a photographer at the gym who asked if I’d be interested in modeling and he hooked me up from there.”
“That’s incredible. Can you show me any of it? Do you have pictures or the movies you were in? I’d love to see.”
“Yeah, I have some of the pictures and magazines at home. You should come by and I’ll show you.”
“Of course I will.”
Ditra will lose her mind when I tell her about this, and I wonder if Josh might be interested in taking her out as more than just friends. She could use a good, normal man in her life now that she’s put her sexual escapades behind her.
I could use a normal man, too, but I don’t want one. There’s only one man for me.
“Your daughter is adorable,” Josh says after the waiter comes to take our order. “Are you involved with her father?”
The mere mention of Blue gives me a small twitch in my chest. I sip my ice water, then shake my head. “No. We broke up before I knew I was pregnant. He doesn’t even know she exists.”
“Damn, that’s harsh.”
“I’m not keeping her from him, Josh. I would never do that. I have no way to get in touch with him. I wish I did.”
“Was it serious? You and him?”
If the definition of serious is feeling like my heart was ripped out of my chest and abducted, then yes, it was serious.
“For me it was, and I felt like it was for him, too.” I meet his hazel eyes. “It’s a really complicated situation.”
He nods with acceptance. “Enough said. I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t ask about your ex if you don’t ask about mine. If you want to talk about him, go for it. If not, no big deal. None of my business.”
Relief ebbs through me, dissipating the anxiety and heartache that always comes when I think about Blue. “Deal. And same for you, if you want to talk, I’m here.”
If I can hide my heartache and savor my memories in peace, then I’m fine with Josh doing the same.
We share stories about our jobs and families over dinner, filling each other in on what we missed over the past few years. It’s odd how so much is the same, but so much has changed, too.
“You should take Ditra out,” I suggest when dessert arrives. “She hasn’t had much luck dating. She’s a little crazy, but I think she’s ready for something serious.”
An odd smile touches his lips and he scoops up a spoonful of crème brûlée. “I think she’s a little more than I can handle,” he admits. “And I gotta be honest, I’m not ready to get involved with someone. My last relationship messed me up.”
I’m all too familiar with the flash of pain in his eyes and the invisible wall his words build between us. Honestly, it’s all a welcome relief. Not because I want him to be hurt, but because he understands exactly how I feel.
We’re on the same page.
Chapter Eighteen
I lock my office and wave goodbye to the co-workers who are working late. Digging out my keys as I exit the building and head toward my car, I run a mental list of everything I need to do on the way home. Put gas in my car. Stop at the grocery store for milk and bread. Pick up Lyric at my Mom’s house, and ignore her when she points out that Courtney is on a date on a Friday night and I’m not.
My heart jumps into my throat when I throw my messenger bag and my purse onto the passenger seat. I pull my door closed and lock it. Taking a deep breath, I finally reach for the white piece of paper that’s folded and sticking out of my cup holder.
I look out th
e windshield. Then the side windows. I glance in the rearview mirror, searching frantically for him.
No one is in the parking lot except for me.
An ache grows in my chest as I look down at the note in my trembling hand. I rub my thumb along the familiar texture of the paper. My teeth dig into my quivering lower lip as my heart and my brain battle.
My brain says tear the note up into tiny pieces and throw it away. Forget him and his ever-frustrating elusiveness. I have no room in my life for games. Besides, nothing written in this note can change anything. It will only rip open barely healed wounds and infect them all over again.
My heart says open it. Open it right now. Don’t wait another second! I’ve been hoping and waiting for this for years. A sign. An explanation. A something. Maybe the words inside could change everything.
The heart always wins.
I slowly unfold the note, and I swear I can smell his scent on the paper. Smokey, minty, Bluesy.
Piper,
I’ve walked a million steps and none of them have taken me from you. I’ve written thousands of words and none of them capture you. I’m haunted by you, driven by you, madly in love and lust with you. I want to be good for you. I want to give you everything. Someday I will. Please believe that. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to be better. Things are getting better. I’m so tired of the bad. I’m trying. Every day I’m fighting the voices and the words. I miss you. I miss Acorn. You don’t know how much. Don’t forget me, baby. Hate me if you have to, but don’t stop loving me. I want you to be happy. I want it to be me so fucking bad.
I’m sorry this is a mess. I’m sorry I’m a mess.
I love you like no tomorrow. Always.
Blue
My hand shakes uncontrollably by the time I reach the last word. I read it again.
And again.
I read it over and over until I can hear his raspy voice say the words, and they cut like a knife, slicing through the center of my chest, tearing out my heart and soul. He was here—when? Hours ago? Minutes ago? Did he watch me go into the office this morning? Is he watching me now? Once again, I stare out the windshield into the parking lot, then turn to look out the side windows, then the rearview mirror.
He’s not here. I’m still alone.
Sniffling and choking on the emotions wrenching up inside me, I fold the note and shove it into my purse.
Why would he come back here and not want to see me? I can’t even comprehend it. I’d do anything to see him, to feel his arms and the warmth of his body around me again. If he loves me, why would he hide from me? After all this time, why wouldn’t he want to see me face to face?
I wipe away the tears tracking down my cheeks and throw the car into drive. Maybe it’s not too late—he could still be here, walking around nearby.
Five o’clock commuter traffic doesn’t let me get very far, though, and I bang my hand against the steering wheel in frustration when I have to sit at the traffic light at the intersection near my office through three intervals. I scour the surrounding sidewalks, searching for his hair blowing in the wind, his backpack and guitar slung over his shoulder. The baby seat in the back seat catches my eye in the rearview mirror and my heart skips a beat. Did he see it when he put the note in my car? Did it scare him away? Oh, God. What if he thinks I had a baby with someone else? Now, more than ever, I have to find him and tell him about Lyric before he disappears again.
When the traffic lets up, I drive up and down the main street, past the park and all the places Blue used to play, but I don’t see him anywhere. I know I should give up on this craziness—run my errands, pick up my little girl, and go home. But I don’t. Like a magnet I’m pulled to the only other place I think Blue might be.
The house with the shed.
Years ago I made a promise to myself to never come back here and torture myself with the memories and the questions that haunt this place. I almost broke that promise several times over the years when I was missing Blue so damn much I wanted to do anything to feel close to him again. Every time I fought the urge and forced myself to stay home, playing the music box and staring at the flameless candle he gave me.
“I thought maybe you could take one home with you and put it by your bed. So you know I’m thinking about you.”
That little flickering light left a lot to be desired.
I’ve been strong. I stopped searching for him, and I stayed away from our special places. But tonight is different, because he might actually be here.
I’m not surprised to see the old house hasn’t changed at all; still a lonely reflection of what I’m sure it once was when people lived there. I check out the shed first, and I’m disappointed to see it’s still empty. I have to question my own morals that I actually want to see the man I love sleeping in this old musty building. Next I check the porch, nearly jumping out of my skin when the wind slams the screen door shut behind me with a bang. If Blue is here, he definitely heard that. Disappointment grows when I see everything is exactly the same—the pile of notebooks, the tarp in the corner, completely untouched. Just to ease my mind, I try the door to the kitchen, and it’s still locked.
I don’t bother calling out his name as I’ve done in the past because I know if he’s here somewhere, he had to have heard that door slam, and if he did, then he’s purposely avoiding me. I can understand him not wanting to confront me in the parking lot of my office, but I’m here now, on his playing ground, and if he doesn’t care about me enough to come out of the shadows, then there’s nothing more I can do. I don’t want to play games. I’m a mother now, I have a corner office with windows, and I’ve worked hard to get my life together after he shredded my heart like a raptor. I can’t—I refuse—to let myself crumble again.
I high-tail out of there, race through the grocery store, then go to my parents’ house to pick up Lyric, which I should have done in the first place rather than hunting around for Blue. When my mother gets on me about how late I am, and how I should have called her, I don’t have the energy to argue with her, tell her the truth, or make up excuses. I dole out the best apology I can, pack up my daughter and her tribe of stuffed toys, and drive home.
Lyric falls asleep in the car, and the absence of her usual chatter gives me the chance to re-compose myself. Unfortunately, the moment we step inside the house, the sight of Acorn wagging his tail and greeting us with Penguin in his mouth dredges up my heartache all over again.
Sometimes, I do hate Blue, but I still can’t stop loving him.
Chapter Nineteen
“These are incredible. I think you found your calling.” The two-page magazine spread of Josh modeling for an expensive cologne line is impressive. His expression and his body language are so confident and natural, it’s hard to believe this is the same awkward teen boy I dated.
He rummages through the box on his living room floor between us, pulling out more photos. “Surprising, huh?” he says. “I enjoy it way more than I thought I would.”
I hold up a photo of him with a beautiful female model that I instantly recognize. “Well, who wouldn’t enjoy this?” I tease. “Is she really this perfect in person, or is this all photo editing? Tell me it’s editing.”
He laughs. “Nope, she’s that perfect.”
“Damn. It’s so unfair.” I put the picture on the floor next to the others and reach into the bottom of the box to pull out a few more photos while he flips through another magazine. The pictures I’m holding aren’t professional photos, but appear to be candid photos of him at a party with some friends, and a few of him kissing a guy.
Kissing a guy.
Studying the picture with my brow creased, I decide they must be friends joking around, but my breath hitches as I shuffle to the next photo, which shows them half naked, making out, and clearly groping each other. Before I can truly grasp what I’m seeing, Josh snatches the photo from my hand and throws it back in the box, slowly shaking his head back and forth.
“You weren’t supposed to see
that.”
Wow. Ditra called this way back in sophomore year of high school, and I told her she was crazy. She was right. Josh is gay. Or bi.
I swallow hard and try to meet his eyes as he shoves the lid back on the box.
“Josh….” I don’t know what to say.
“I’m confused, Piper,” he says in a low voice. “Have been for a long time.”
I nod and touch his hand. “It’s okay. I am, too.”
So much makes sense to me now. This is why things never went further when we dated years ago, and why we’ve been strictly friends since we started spending time together recently. I haven’t just been friend-zoning him because I’m still stuck on Blue. He’s been friend-zoning me, too.
Damn. Maybe I’m just destined to never be in a normal relationship with anyone.
The brief moment of surprise and awkwardness fades away, and we let it. We resume our plans to make dinner and watch a movie. But when I yawn and tell him I should head home, he puts his hand on my arm to stop me.
“Can we talk before you go?” he asks.
“Sure.”
He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you...I’ve just been waiting for the right time. But now that you know...yeah, I like guys. And women.”
I’m not going to let this screw up my friendship with him. I need supportive people in my life, and he’s been at the top of the list since we ran into each other.
“Josh… it doesn’t matter to me who or what you like. You’re my friend, I want you to be happy. My head is messed up, too. You know that.”
“I know. And for the record, I think it sucks, because you deserve to be happy, and not be in love with some ghost of a guy.”
I ignore his comment.
“So, the breakup you told me about? The one that messed you up? Was it a guy?”
He nods solemnly. “Yeah, it was. He’s the first guy—the only guy—I’ve ever dated or been with. And you’re still the only woman I’ve ever seriously dated.”
