“Oh, no, please don't,” he said. “Let's just have tonight, okay? I don't want to make it harder than it's already been.”
“Please, I can't let you go without saying goodbye,” she replied.
“But we can say it -”
“You're not getting away from me that easy, Jon Doherty. Just one more breakfast together. One more car ride. Deal with it, then you'll be rid of me. See you at nine,” she called out, then the cab started to roll away.
He cursed, then stomped up to the house. He took a couple deep breaths before going inside. It was after one in the morning, Sloany was asleep. He tiptoed upstairs, then crept around while he got undressed, carefully packing his suit into his luggage.
Only wearing his boxer briefs, he laid down on top of the girly duvet and stared at the ceiling. He was scared, he could admit it. As far as Jon's memory went, he'd never traveled. Never been on a plane. Had he ever even lived alone before? He'd never thought to ask Delaney.
Delaney.
He didn't stop to question what he was doing, just picked up his phone and texted her.
Have I ever lived alone?
It was so late, closer to two now. He didn't necessarily expect her to answer, but he also wasn't surprised when his phone vibrated with a response.
I don't think so. Maybe in college? You moved to Brooklyn with a bunch of friends when you were young, like twenty. You were still living with some of them when we met.
So I went straight from my parents' house to college to roommates to living with you.
Don't be scared, you'll do great in L.A.
Sometimes, he swore she was psychic.
I suppose it's better than being homeless.
Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it.
Come to the airport tomorrow.
He held his breath, waiting for her response.
No.
Why?
Because – this is something you need to do for yourself.
I'll be doing it all by myself – I just want to say goodbye to you.
We already said goodbye.
Please?
Can I tell you something about Jayson Fairbanks?
Okay.
There was a long pause. The little dots blinked continuously on the messenger app, telling him she was still there. She must have been writing a novel. After a minute or so, it finally came through.
Jay was fucked up. He did way too many drugs and he didn't take anything nearly seriously enough. He forgot appointments, couldn't hold a job to save his life, and made me so mad sometimes, I fantasized about killing him. But he was also fearless. He didn't care one little bit about what anyone else thought of him. He would give you the shirt off his back and ask for nothing in return. He marched to his own drum, and he made the people around him want to march to it, too. He moved to Brooklyn with no money, no job, nothing. He'd never even been there before, didn't know anyone there, yet he didn't hesitate. He just went, because everything is an adventure if you look at it from the right angle. So just go, Jon, and have your own adventure.
He read her text over and over again. Late into the night, long after she must have fallen asleep. He read until the screen on his phone dimmed and eventually died on him. Then he stared back at the ceiling again.
I was fearless once, she said. Maybe I can be fearless again.
23
“Nice ass.”
Jon turned around and glared at Sloany. She was leaning against his doorway, grinning at him. He was standing in his room in a t-shirt and underwear, rooting through his suitcase.
“Shut up. I lost something,” he grumbled, going back to searching through everything in the luggage.
“What is it? Gold? Slow down, you're gonna rip something,” she warned him.
“My mood ring.”
“Your what?”
“Mood. Ring,” he growled, picking up the entire suitcase and slamming it back down. “It's one of the only things I had on me when they admitted me into the hospital. I can't fucking find it!”
“Jesus, Jon, calm down. We'll swing by a store and grab you another,” she said.
“I want that one.”
She moved into the room and he felt her hands against his back.
“You packed everything from the hotel, yes?” she asked, and he nodded. “Then it's in there. Just chill out. Come downstairs and have breakfast, relax. When you get to L.A., you can unpack thoroughly and methodically. The way you're doing it, you'll probably fling it out a window or something and not even know it.”
Of course she was right, but it didn't make him feel any better. He wanted the ring with him. Wanted to feel it in his palm, just to know it was there. That it existed. A tangible memory he could hold and take with him, wherever he went.
He put on some pants and went downstairs with her. She'd put out a whole spread for him – eggs, bacon, pancakes, sausage, hashbrowns. His stomach felt like a lead weight, but he put a little bit of everything onto a plate and sat down. He could get through one meal.
“Helloooo!” Kitty's voice suddenly called out from the entryway.
Maybe I can't.
“In here,” Mrs. Sloan called back before blowing on her hot coffee.
Kitty traipsed in, smiling big at everyone, her arms full of bags.
“I come bearing gifts.”
It actually cheered him up a little, sitting around a table with two people he cared very much about, just laughing and talking. Kitty had gotten California themed gifts for everyone. Sloany got a coffee mug shaped like a woman in a bikini. Every time she took a drink out of it, Jon cracked up. There were also sea salt scented candles and funny beach towels. Even a “Men of California” calendar, which Mrs. Sloan promised to hang up in her office at work.
For Jon, there were board shorts and tank tops. A pair of nice flip flops, and a really expensive pair of sunglasses. A pen with a girl in a bikini on it, but when he flipped it upside down, the bikini disappeared. He also got a bikini girl mug, but it wouldn't fit in his luggage. Sloany offered to keep it safe for him.
“My entire life fits in these bags,” he sighed, staring at the small suitcase and his messenger bag. Kitty coiled herself around one of his arms and hugged it tightly.
“It's kinda handy. Whenever I travel, I can barely fit a weeks worth of clothing into two bags and two carry ons.”
“Yeah, but this is literally my life,” he pointed out.
“Exactly. Everything you care about is right there. You can always take it all with you wherever you go.”
Please, god, let that mood ring be in my bag.
They all piled into the silver Corolla. Who would've thought he'd feel nostalgic about a shitty car? As they drove and Kitty chattered away from the backseat, he rolled down the window and smoothed his hand over the door.
“You'll call as soon as you land, right?” Kitty asked almost an hour later.
“Jesus, let the man breathe!” Sloany laughed, taking the exit for the airport. “He's not your kid going off to summer camp.”
“I know that, I just worry.”
“Well, worry about something other than a grown man living his life.” There was silence for a moment, then Sloany cleared her throat. “Call as soon as you get to the hotel, instead.”
They all laughed together.
He was glad when Mrs. Sloan didn't take the exit for airport parking. Instead, she drove right to departures, which meant they wouldn't be able to go inside with him. He was pretty sure if they had parked, Kitty would try to get all the way to the gate with him. Possibly on the plane. As it was, he was treated to an emotional goodbye at the curb.
“I told myself I wouldn't cry,” she sniffled. He chuckled and rubbed her back.
“You are a wonderful cliché, Kitty,” he sighed.
“I try. Take care of yourself? Eat right, please. And go to the dentist – you missed your last appointment. And remember -”
“Kitty,” he started laughing again. “I'm not your charity case to
worry about anymore, remember?”
“No,” she pulled away from him. “You're my friend, so I'll always worry about you.”
They kissed quickly, then he turned to Sloany.
“I am not kissing you,” she warned him.
He felt like that was a challenge, so he pulled her into a deep dip before kissing her hard. She squirmed the whole time, pushing at his shoulders.
“Was that really as bad as you thought it would be?” he asked when he stood her upright. She glared at him and straightened out her pantsuit.
“Worse,” she grumbled, but then she hugged him tightly. “I'm gonna miss you, kiddo. She's right – take care of yourself.”
“I will,” he whispered back, burying his face in her blonde hair. “You've been the best friend a guy could ask for. I think I'm going to miss you the most.”
“Somehow, I honestly doubt that.”
Neither of them said her name, but they were both thinking about Delaney.
A couple more hugs, a firm goodbye to Kitty when she tried to come inside, and Jon was free. He didn't look back as he wheeled his stuff up to the ticket counter.
He was happy to learn his suitcase was small enough to count as a carry on, so he opted to keep it with him. He didn't want it out of his sight until he found his ring.
He went through security. It was all strange and confusing, but oddly familiar at the same time. He took off his belt and shoes, watched as his belongings went through the x-ray. Then he got dressed again and went off in search of his flight.
“Flight 267 to Los Angeles ... United Airlines ... has been moved to ... Gate 34.”
As he listened to the announcement come over the P.A. system, he glanced at his ticket. It was his flight, so he started heading off towards Gate 34.
What a crazy life.
Six months ago, he was in the hospital. Four months ago, he was trying to convince himself he could fall in love with Kitty. Two months ago, he was given a glimpse into his past and he'd started writing a book about it. Now he was on his way to Los Angeles, to start a whole new crazy life.
And a year ago, you were falling in love with Delaney.
He stopped walking, staring straight ahead as people flowed around him. The airport was crowded, but he didn't see anybody. Just started to mildly hyperventilate as his vision went black at the edges and he was transported through time.
“You know you could do better than me. You're gorgeous, you're funny, you're so goddamn caring ...”
“Thanks, but I think I did pretty good with you ...”
“Still not anywhere near good enough for you, babe, and also not strong enough to let that stop me. I fucking love you, Delaney. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before I go to bed. I want to be inside you forever. Want to lay with you and love you and make you laugh until we're old and gray. Delaney Carter, will you marry me? I know this ring isn't much, and I can't even promise you that someday I'll do better. But it's for you, and only you.”
“It's a mood ring. Blue means love.”
“It does?”
“It does. Oh my god, Jay. Yes. To everything. To always. To you and me, forever.”
“Forever and ever and ever.”
It was mostly audio, no video. He could hear Delaney's voice, feel her in his arms, but he couldn't quite see her face. Still, he knew it was a memory. That's how he'd proposed to her. That's how he'd felt about her.
God, how he felt ... he could feel it coursing though his veins, pumping through his heart. Jesus, how could somebody love someone so much? He hadn't known it was possible. He felt faint. It was taking him over, overwhelming him. He'd loved her. So much. More than was sensible or smart. More than anything else on the planet. So fucking much.
He dropped to his knees and knocked over his suitcase. A woman let out a startled shout, tripping over the handle, then called him a few choice words. He ignored her and opened the luggage, then started rifling through everything. Fuck what Sloany said, he had to find that ring now.
He threw his clothing everywhere, not caring about anything or the scene he was causing. He turned pants pockets inside out and ripped pockets off shirts. Tipped over shoes and went through toiletries.
Finally, he came to an old jacket. One he hadn't worn since his trip home from the hospital. He had his hand in one pocket and was squeezing the other when he felt it. Like a small hard ball in his hand. He struggled to yank it free of the material, then chucked the jacket under a row of seats.
He stood back up and stared at the ring. It was cheap, of the carnival or fair variety, with an adjustable band. The stone was opaque black, he'd never seen it turn any color.
I know this ring. I know that woman. I know what love is.
His hands were shaking when he slipped the ring on. He willed the memories to come forward. Went over the proposal memory again, then prayed something would follow it. Closed his eyes and begged every god he could think of.
And yet ... nothing. Just swirling blackness and fog. Their voices fading in, then their voices fading out. Just like the memory of her in the gold top. Barely a moment in time, surrounded in black on all sides.
Why!? How can you show me something, and not everything? With no explanation? What does this mean?
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Then glanced around at the people looking at him. Looked down at his belongings strewn everywhere. Then he zeroed in on his hand.
I don't ever want to lose this feeling. I don't ever want to forget her.
The mood ring was practically glowing on his finger, swirling into an intense, deep blue. He couldn't rip his eyes away from it, watching as the color grew bolder. More intense. Almost blinding.
“... blue means love ...”
Jon was back at security before he even realized he'd started running. His luggage and all his clothing were still in a pile on the floor back by Gate 34. It didn't matter. He wouldn't be catching his flight.
He got yelled at by TSA, but kept running. He sprinted past the ticket desks, then hurtled himself down the escalator to the arrivals level. Almost got stuck in a crush of tourists by the doors, then practically knocked down a little old lady in order to steal her taxi.
“Times Square,” he was gasping for air.
“Traffic's shit down there right now,” the cabbie commented. “Fair warnin'.”
“Get me downtown as fast as possible, and I will pay you five hundred dollars.”
When he held up the bills to prove it, the driver hit the gas so hard, Jon was flung back into his seat. They practically flew out of the airport and he scrambled to put on his seat belt.
“Also alive,” he called out. “As fast as possible, and alive.”
“So what's the big rush?” the guy asked, flicking the butt of a cigar out his window. Jon took a deep breath and watched other cars as they zoomed by.
“I have to tell a girl I love her. Again,” he replied.
“Again? What happened, you break up with her?”
Jon smiled to himself.
“No. No, I never really did.”
24
Jon all but leapt out of the cab, throwing hundred dollar bills into the front seat before sprinting through the crowds. The cab driver hadn't been lying – Times Square was insanity. Cars everywhere, and good lord, so many people. He busted up more than a few photo ops, not bothering to apologize as he sprinted across the square.
“Delaney,” he was panting when he ran up to the podium at the front of her restaurant. “I need to speak to Delaney Carter. She's a waitress here.”
“Oh, she's not here,” the hostess said, looking a little startled.
“What!?”
“Yeah, uh ...” she looked down at a notebook in front of her. “She switched shifts with someone. She should be here in like ... gosh, any minute now.”
Jon glanced at a large clock. It was almost one. He swore and turned around, slamming through the door.
He
stood on the corner for a moment, his hands in his hair, wondering what he should do. Of course, he could wait for her to show up, that was the logical next step. But he was scared if he stopped moving, if he slowed down, the feeling would go away. Would slide back into the fog, and the way he was feeling would disappear forever.
I can't let that happen. I remember us. I can't let her go.
He took off running up the street, grateful for all those early morning runs with Gary Tupper.
He knew Delaney usually walked to work, but not necessarily always. If she was running late, she might catch a taxi or an Uber or something. And even if she was walking, there was no guarantee he'd see her. The streets were filled with people out enjoying the sunshine, and the road was wide – if she was on the opposite side, he'd miss her entirely.
As his feet pounded the pavement, images and photographs went around in his mind. Him and Kitty at Christmas, feeling so unfulfilled. Delaney in the bathroom at his hotel, his arm around her. Kitty reminding him it was all in his muscle memory. Delaney crying in the rain, wanting to be with him. Kitty crying in the hotel room, having to let him go. Delaney smiling at him outside of Crash's house. Laying with him in his hotel room. Screaming on a rollercoaster. Sitting in her small bedroom. Just loving him.
Keep running. Look for her. Remember her. Find her.
Her apartment was only about a twenty minute walk to Times Square, maybe less. He made it in under ten minutes. He careened around the corner onto her street and sprinted towards the security door, his hand outstretched to press the buzzer for her apartment. Just as he was about to reach it, though, the door was pushed open and he slammed into someone.
“What the shit!”
They ricocheted off each other, but Jon's adrenaline was pumping too hard to let him go down. He grabbed the handle of the door for balance, then lurched forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, catching her before she could hit the ground.
“I've got you,” he breathed.
Delaney looked up at him, her eyes as wide as he'd ever seen them.
The most beautiful eyes I've ever looked at, and I really do know that for a fact.
Muscle Memory Page 22
