by Layla Hagen
"So, Serena," Parker says to me, "I never got to congratulate you on your job offer in San Francisco."
I blush. Parker would know all about the nightmare that has been my job search. I drove him crazy all those days he wandered around with me after Jess got out of the hospital and we found out the mess she was in.
"What happened with your interview in New York?" he asks. "Did you hear back?"
I bite my lip. I didn't want to say anything about New York, but now that he brought it up I can't downright lie to him. I peek at James, who's discussing something with my other neighbor, Tom, and gesticulating energetically. But I know he's paying attention to what Parker and I are saying. "I've actually gotten a job offer in New York." Since I'm going down the path of truth, I might as well spit everything out. "I'm flying there tonight, and will look at apartments tomorrow."
James's arms freeze in the air for a second, and he breaks off mid-sentence. Then he starts talking to Tom again, as if nothing happened.
Parker looks crestfallen, his mouth hanging slightly open. "So you accepted the job offer?" I can understand his confusion, since I always claimed I applied everywhere to keep my options open, but that I really want to stay in San Francisco.
“Yes.”
James drops all pretense of not eavesdropping on our conversation. "I thought you wanted to work in San Francisco." His voice drips with accusation.
"I did."
"So why the sudden change now?" James asks.
"Nothing beats having a Wall Street bank on my CV," I say weakly.
Not that it's not true. I knew that all along when I sent applications, but I also knew that Wall Street banks were so competitive, I never thought I'd get in. Still, I know that that's not the only reason I accepted the job. And I think James knows it too.
"You are right, Parker," James says in a glacial tone that rips through me. "Congratulations are in order. Should we order another glass of champagne?"
"That won't be necessary," I say quickly.
His eyes don't match the cold tone. Something else lingers behind the blue in them. Something worse. Hurt. So deep and so intense that it smolders its way into me, enveloping me in a veil woven of guilt and regret.
"I propose that we finish off our breakfast and then go get some sleep," Parker jumps in, looking wearily from James to me. "I already told everyone from the office they can take the day off."
James scoffs, then his lips curl into a grin as he turns to Parker, breaking off eye contact. I let out a breath of relief; I hadn't even realized I was holding in my breath. I lower my gaze to my empty plate, tracing the contour where my pancake was with my fork.
"And I already told them that sleep is overvalued," James says. "I organized an outdoor day for the entire team and everyone else who helped."
"Oh," Parker says in surprise. "But everyone is so tired."
On my left and right, both Nadine and David sit up straight. I have a hunch they, too, think that sleep is overrated.
James grins. "Trust me, what I planned will shake them up for sure." He stands up and clears his throat. "Everyone, listen up. Two buses will arrive in about ten minutes. If you're up for some well-deserved fun, make sure you get on one." His voice vibrates with excitement and the promise of an adventure. I'm tempted to look up and check whether his eyes glint with the same excitement, but I'm afraid the flare of pain still lingers in them. It didn't look like the kind of pain that can be wiped out by the mere prospect of mindless fun.
"Hell yeah," someone chants and others cheer as well.
"I hope they hire me after the internship. They sound like so much fun to work with," Nadine whispers only for me to hear, and I launch into another discussion about jobs with her, glad to have a legitimate excuse to avoid looking at James. No one asks James where the buses will take them or what the plan for the day is as they down the last drops of coffee and gobble the few bites of breakfast left on their plates. The promise of fun seems enough for them to want to go. If I'm honest, even I would want to go. But I know better. The buses arrive shortly afterward, pulling in front of the restaurant.
In the mayhem that ensues, I leave the restaurant along with everyone else, as James pays the tab. Outside I squeeze my eyes shut because the sun is already high, blinding and burning me. The first breath of hot air sets my lungs on fire. Two lines form in front of the two buses. But I don't plan on getting on either of the buses. Instead, I head off along the street, hoping to find a cab before anyone realizes what I'm up to. I risk a glance over my shoulder. James is nowhere to be seen among the crowd in front of the buses. Parker is there, and with a pang, I realize I haven't said goodbye to him.
It's cowardly of me to take off like this, but I know this is the easiest way. No goodbyes, no more paralyzing, shattering stares. A burning sensation starts behind my eyelids that I know precedes tears, but I try to ignore it, as well as the painful knot in my throat. I have to ignore them, at least until I get away from here. When I'm at a considerable distance from the buses, I start looking for a cab. None in sight, of course. Just my luck. I decide to walk until I find one, though I'd like nothing better than to seek refuge in one of the air-conditioned shops I'm passing. I'm sweating already. I stop at a cart to buy some water, because as usual, I had too much coffee and not enough water, and between that, the heat and the effort of not crying, my throat is so dry that every breath feels like swallowing a handful of razors.
"Water, please," I tell the vendor.
After he hands me a cold plastic bottle, I walk a few feet and then step into a very narrow side street. It's a little cooler in here, thanks to the draft forming between the two concrete buildings. I pinch my nose as the stench of trash reaches me. Sure enough, I spot some dumpsters at the other end of the street.
I lean on the wall, hoping to find some relief from the heat, but the wall isn't as cool as I want it to be. I open the bottle and take a sip, closing my eyes. The cold liquid calms my throat, like a balm, and crushes the razors. But I know the razors will come back before long, not to attack my throat, but my heart and my core. All of me. Tears burn at the inner corner of my eyes as it all sinks in. That was the last time I saw James. Heard his voice, gazed into his smoldering, blue eyes. His image plays behind my closed eyes, and I can't help but smile. I could stay forever like this. In my mind, there are no cold stares and harsh words. There are no words at all. He's smiling and his eyes have that playful twinkle that drives me crazy. The smell of him lingers on me, and I wonder how this is possible. I hadn't been near him more than ten minutes, and that was hours ago. Perhaps his smell imprinted in my memory.
Or perhaps not.
"So first you drop the bomb and then sneak off?"
I jump so fast that I drop the cold bottle from my hands. "Damn it," I curse as I launch forward to catch the bottle in a lousy reenactment of a high-wire artist. I catch it as it almost hits the ground. Taking a deep breath, I stand up. James stands not two inches in front of me, every bit the anti-image of what I'd built in my daydream. His lips aren't curled into a smile. They're pressed together in a harsh line of disappointment and frustration. A hell of a match for the hurt in his eyes.
He presses his hands on the wall behind me, caging me in on my left and my right, leaving no way out. He's too close to me. Far too close. "I never took you for a coward," he says.
"Then I guess you don't know me well enough," I mumble, wishing he'd show me a whit of mercy and distance himself from me. The scent of his skin and his warm breath on me are almost too much to bear now that I had begun struggling to put up bars and chains all around me to protect me from his absence.
"I know you well enough to know that you want to move to New York to get away from me."
"I don't—"
"Is that how much you hate me, Serena?" He takes a step back, his arms hovering in the air, amplifying his horrible, slashing question.
"I don't hate you," I answer, stricken. "I could never hate you."
"Then why d
oes it feel that way?" His arms fall by his side. "Like I forced you to do something you hate and you couldn't wait for the right moment to run away?"
"I wasn't running away. I just decided it'd be easier if I left without any goodbyes."
He lowers his head, shaking it slightly. When he looks up again, my heart gives a jolt. A hint of a smile illuminates his features. It's not reflected in his eyes, but still it's a smile. A much better parting image than the one I had before. "Well that was one piss-poor idea."
"I thought you might say something like that." I smile back. "Hence the sneaking off. Besides, I really need to get going. I've got a ton of things to do before leaving."
He frowns. "You seriously—"
"I'm not leaving because of you, James."
"Really?"
"Really," I say, looking away from him, certain he will guess the truth if I don't.
"Then you won't have anything against joining me and the others for the rest of the day."
I fix my gaze on the dumpsters at the end of the street. "I told you, I have things to do before I go to New York."
"When is your flight?"
I bite my lip. "Eleven o’clock tonight."
"What can you possibly have to do that will take you the whole day? It's not like you're moving right now. Are you?" he asks, his voice shaking. I'm not sure if with uncertainty or distrust. I wouldn't blame him if it were the latter. After all, I did give him an array of reasons to distrust me in the past half hour alone.
"Of course not. I still have one month until graduation."
"You remember the last time we were like this, among dumpsters?"
"How could I forget?" I ask weakly. "It's where we had our first reunion, before leaving for the chocolate factory."
"I'm sorry I couldn't keep the promise I made you that night. I'm sorry I hurt you again. I didn't mean to. I wanted to fix everything at Royal Garden, and I only managed to fuck it up even more. I don't know how to be around you without hurting you." He pauses, his eyes now the color of the clear sky above us, scathing me, sending shivers of ice and fire through me. "I'm sorry I'm too messed up to tell you what you need to hear."
"I'm sorry you put your business on the line for me."
"I'd put anything on the line for you. Serena, there's nothing, nothing I wouldn't risk for you."
"Except three words."
And as I say the sentence, it hits me just how messed up I am. Because surely, any sane person would take his act—forcing Natalie out at the risk of bankrupting himself—as the ultimate proof that he cares about me, that he loves me. But I need to know he's overcome whatever keeps him from saying those damned words to me.
His gaze darkens. His lips open slightly, but it's not the words I so desperately crave that come out. "Spend this day with me, Serena," he begs.
I nod.
I trail alongside James as we walk back to the buses, careful not to come too close to him. Twice he glances in my direction but I pretend not to notice, though I think my burning cheeks more than give me away.
"We ride on this bus," James says when we come near them, pointing to the second bus. The door at the front of the bus slides open the moment I stop in front of it, revealing the bash of cheers and laughter happening inside.
"Looks like they're having a blast already," I say nervously to James, who's right behind my shoulder.
"And to think you wanted to miss this," he whispers in my ear, sending a torrent of tingles down my spine. But the tingles transform into a wave of warmth that spreads through my entire body, making my toes curl and my heart skip a beat. I take a deep breath, distancing myself from him, wondering how many more of these moments I can steal today. Many, I hope. I'll put them all in a little glass box at the back of my mind—a collection of fragile memories that I will treasure forever and revisit when the longing for him becomes too unbearable.
I step inside the bus. It's cool and dry here—bless air conditioning for offering me relief from the consuming heat. The driver is smiling at me in a weird way, and it takes me a few seconds to realize why. The bus has gone silent. Like, utterly and completely silent.
"The group is complete now," James tells the driver. "We're ready to go."
There are long rows of two seats on each side of the bus. I'm glad the ones in the front are empty, because I think if I had to walk by the others, who are watching me with half-amused, half-mocking expressions, my cheeks would easily catch fire. They already feel so hot, I'm sure I must look like a clown. Parker is sitting in the second row alone, by the window, and I choose to sit next to him instead of taking one of the double empty seats. James would surely sit by my side, and I'm not sure I can survive a bus ride—long or short as it might be—next to him. The bus starts moving and, thankfully, the cheers and laughter start again. I still have no idea where we're going. I think the others don't, either.
James cocks an eyebrow when he notices my choice of seat. I look away quickly, turning to Parker who isn't looking at me. He's typing furiously on his phone. There's a crease on his forehead, and it's becoming more and more pronounced by the second.
"Anything wrong?" I ask.
"My flat is flooded," he says, not looking up. "I'll have to stay in a hotel for a few days."
"Can't you stay with James?"
He shakes his head. "I mean my flat in London."
"You're going back to London?"
"Uh huh," he says, then shoves his phone in his pocket, and looks up at me. "We agreed with the investors today that I should go back to London and focus on growing the business there. I was going to go back soon anyway, but it'll happen more quickly than I anticipated."
"So, when are you leaving?"
"Tonight."
"Oh," I exclaim. Whenever I considered leaving for New York, I only thought about not seeing James again. A startling heaviness settles in my chest at the thought of not seeing Parker again. I like being around him. He reminds me of home. Just a bit. Not enough to bring back all the bad memories that chased me away from there in the first place. I lean back in my seat, holding my knees against my chest. They feel like they're made out of stones. My whole body does. I didn't realize how tired I am until now.
He smiles a smile that is a carbon copy of James's. "We'll keep in touch."
"Sure." That's what my friends from school said when I left London. That's what I told them, too. But the ocean has a habit of making strangers out of friends. "What time is your flight?"
"Nine o'clock."
"Maybe we can go together to the airport."
"Absolutely," he says. "Have you packed already?"
"Yeah, we just have to pick up my suitcase."
"I'm having my car brought to where we're going, with all my bags. I'll just tell the driver to pass by your place and pick up your bag."
"He can't get in; there's no one home."
Parker frowns, then starts typing on his phone again. "He can find your landlord; he must have a key."
I hadn't exactly figured out the logistics of how I'd go to the airport from wherever we are going, but knowing that I'll leave with Parker puts my mind at ease. I glance out the window as we speed along the highway, wondering where this new adventure will take us. I start counting the cars we pass to keep my mind occupied, because thoughts of what awaits me at the end of this day start creeping back, and I have to ward them off if I want to survive this day. A life without James, that's what awaits me. I doze off sometime after counting the one hundredth car.
I wake up with a jolt as my ears are assaulted by a wave of cheers and laughter. I sit up straight. The bus has come to a halt, and, except for Parker and me, everyone is on their feet, waiting in line to get out.
"Where are we?" I ask Parker. Out the window, a vast river lies before my eyes.
"Tuolumne River."
I've never been to Tuolumne River, but I know roughly where it is on the map. "I slept for two hours?"
He smirks. "Two and a half, actually."
Pa
rker and I get off the bus last. The first breath of air outside is refreshing. It isn't quite as cool as the AC in the bus, but it smells of pines and the proximity of water somehow takes away the intensity of the heat. I'd like nothing better than to swim in the river. But the water flows so rapidly and there are so many rocks that I'm pretty sure I won't put as much as a toe in the water. I look around, trying to imagine what we could possibly do here. Wild would be the most appropriate word to describe this place. A plethora of pines and oaks populate the other shore of the river. The shore we're on is mostly grass and bushes that are a dry, pale yellow. Clouds of dust linger above the unpaved road behind us.
"This place doesn't really feel… celebratory," someone from the crowd shouts.
James's laughter echoes a few feet away from me.
My phone rings. I fish it out of the pocket of my slim jeans, and jolt a bit at the number on the screen. It's from England, but it's not my parents’ number. My heart pounding hard, I try to remember who else has my number. Our neighbor, Ms. Tate, whom I gave it to in case of emergencies. But it can't be her; I have her number saved. Her name would appear on the screen if she'd be the one calling.
Biting my lip, I press the green button and hold the phone to my ear.
"I GOT the job," Jess shrieks in my ear. "I still can't believe it. I got it."
"Wow, that's amazing, Jess." I walk a little farther away from the buses, and make sure to keep the phone a few inches away from my ear because Jess's screams might deafen me. "How long do you have to decide if you accept it?"
"You're kidding, right? Hell, I've decided already. My place is here, hon. London is so much cooler than I thought. The people, the accent. God, this is just the perfect city. I can't believe you left."
"It was because of the rain, I told you," I joke, though a sinking feeling starts building in my stomach.
