Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue)

by Andrea Randall

  “Mon, I gotta tell you, I’m a little nervous about tonight. Adrian and I haven’t seen each other face-to-face since graduation. I mean, it wasn’t weird then, but I have this feeling that it will be now.” I twisted my hands at the thought.

  “Well, Ember, I guess it’s a good thing you’re going. You need to decide if you can emotionally leave Adrian in the past since he and Bo are in your present. Then, you can go about planning your future.” She winked as she got in her car.

  I climbed into my car and took a deep breath. The drive to Finnegan’s was just long enough to recall the last night I spent with Adrian.

  * * *

  Neither one of us was having sex with other people, but we had agreed that we didn’t want the stress that could come with being in an exclusive emotional relationship. We spent the summer before our senior year on the Princeton campus working separate camps and summer schools. It was really just the two of us, without all of our friends around, and it was so much fun.

  At the end of the summer, it happened. We had just spent a fantastic night together and he was asleep on my bed. I sat in the chair on the other side of the small room, staring out the window and crying.

  “Hey, Em, are you OK? What’s wrong?” Adrian rolled over to find I wasn’t there and caught my moon-lit tears. He rubbed his eyes and shifted to a seated position on the edge of the bed.

  “Adrian,” I slumped my shoulders and shuffled over to the bed, where he was waiting with open arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Babe, what’s going on? What are you sorry for?” He wiped a tear away from my cheek. I’d never let him see me cry before, and I think he was scared.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” I choked on the words swelling in my throat.

  “Can’t do what?” He couldn’t imagine what was coming.

  “I love you, Adrian, and I’m sorry. I thought it was just in my head; just a reaction to Monica’s breakup with Grant . . .” My heaving sobs were met by Adrian’s firm grip of my shoulders.

  “Baby, I…” He didn’t have to say anything. I willed him not to. “I love you, too.”

  “Adrian, stop! That’s not what we’re doing here; we agreed. Look what just the thought of losing something I don’t have is doing to me. I’m not ready for this.”

  His hard kiss silenced me.

  “I love you, Ember. It’s OK.”

  “It’s not OK, Adrian. We both know it. We can’t keep doing this now. Not with all of this.” I flapped my hands in a scattering motion between us to indicate what a mess it had instantly become. I didn’t need, or want, a pity “I love you” from Adrian.

  Adrian’s eyes fell heavy between his lap and my face. After what seemed like several minutes he took a deep breath, exhaled for a year, and kissed me in a way that only he could kiss me.

  We made love that night, for the first and last time. I cried, he cried, and we realized it was all too much. The fear of a deeper broken heartedness if we continued down the road that the L-word had dumped us on was stronger than the will we had to carry on. We ended things right then and there.

  We saw each other in classes through junior year and remained cordial, but we ended the study groups. We saw even less of each other during senior year and, once we reached graduation, our paths never crossed again.

  * * *

  Until tonight. I parked at Finnegan’s and took a cleansing breath, grumbling a little at the sight of Josh’s car. I knew he’d think I was there for him. No, I’m here for a different ass.

  With a second cleansing breath, I opened the door and headed straight to the bar to talk to Josh.

  “Hey, sorry I didn’t text you but we’ll have to talk some other time. I’ve got to meet someone.” I realized this was the first time I’d seen Josh since he broke up with Monica. He was pale and rather disheveled.

  “Don’t worry about it Em. He’s over there - the guy you’re meeting.” Josh waved his hand to the back of the pub.

  Still facing Josh, I straightened my posture and froze.

  “How do you know . . .”

  Josh chuckled, “I’ve seen his face many times in your old school photos. Plus, he asked if I would point you in his direction when you arrived.”

  “Well jeez, Josh. Thanks for the heads up. I was supposed to see him first.” Like he knows what that means.

  “Ha!” Josh let out a loud laugh. “Don’t worry, I’d say whatever you’re going for worked; his eyes haven’t left you since you walked in.” Josh gestured to my outfit.

  “Damn straight they haven’t. I’ll talk to you later.” I turned just slowly enough to be dramatic, but fast enough not to be obvious.

  There he was. Adrian Turner. Holy shit.

  He had, according to Josh, been watching me the whole time, but when our eyes met, his lit up. I walked toward him with the I-know-I-look-good saunter I had practiced in my apartment with Monica. He smiled and gave me a nod as he stood from the booth.

  Take a breath, flash a smile.

  Unfortunately, Adrian hadn’t gotten fat at all. No, the past few years had done him nothing but unequivocal favors. He was still as broad and muscular as his Princeton lacrosse days, but a striking maturity graced his face that parted my lips. His flawless milk chocolate skin looked like it could melt under the heat of my gaze.

  His hair was different; short dreads were replaced by a tight buzz cut, and an equally close-shaven goatee. He wore khaki shorts and an un-tucked cerulean button down shirt. He’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows, exposing boulder-like forearms, and the top three buttons were unbuttoned. Water, please. I wondered idly if Bo’s reticence to my meeting with Adrian had to do with how incredibly beautiful he is - surely men notice if another man is attractive.

  “November Harris,” Adrian greeted with incredible congeniality. He stretched out his arms and I went in for the hug. Damn. It was easier to question his motives when I couldn’t smell him. He smelled like Princeton, lacrosse, and my dorm pillow. He smelled like Adrian, my Adrian. He gave a whisper of a peck on one of my cheeks before holding me at arm’s length.

  “Adrian Turner, look at you. All grown up and a big-shot lawyer from Harvard Law. How are you?” That’s right, Adrian, keep looking.

  “I’m better now, girl. It’s been a long time.” His eyes blossomed with a sincerity that travelled to my gut, sprouting a pang of guilt for avoiding him for so long.

  “It has. And, you only had to work-stalk me to make it happen.” I winked as I took my seat.

  “Ah, come on, that’s not at all how it was. I happened to have a connection that DROP wanted me to explore.” He gave a sly shrug. Smug indeed.

  “You had no connection, you pompous ass,” I laughed through the truth.

  “Truth be told, I was only hoping that you still worked for The Hope Foundation when I presented the suggestion. You’re the only girl I know who doesn’t have Facebook, so internet stalking was out of the question. I couldn’t ask Monica so I had to go the old fashion route.” He winked, and the bottom of my stomach fell again.

  Josh brought us some beer, on the house. He was still trying to smooth things over with me in regards to Monica, even though it had only been two days since he smeared her heart all over her apartment. I thanked him dismissively and turned back to Adrian.

  “What’s your problem with the bartender?” Adrian’s delivery was innocent.

  “Josh? He’s one of the managers here. He was Monica’s boyfriend, until Tuesday night; it’s weird territory at the moment.” I shrugged honestly.

  “How is Monica? I half expected her to show up with you tonight.”

  “She didn’t want to be around Josh, obviously. You’ll probably see her at some point this weekend. We’ll likely be here tomorrow and Saturday; there’s live music here Saturday.” I sensed I was beginning to ramble, so I took an indulgent sip of my beer.

  “Yea, Cavanaugh’s playing here Saturday, right?”

  I spit some of my beer back in to my glass. “Uh, I guess so
, he played here last weekend. He uses ‘Bo’ for music, though.” I shrugged impassively. Confident, nonchalant honesty, Ember. Don’t show your whole hand just yet.

  “Yea, that’s right. Is he any good?” His tone was unreadable; my palms began to sweat a little.

  He’s amazing, his soul is deeper than any ocean. I’m fairly certain angel’s weep at the sound of his voice , and sing his songs to those who are in pain.

  “He’s really good. He knows his stuff, that’s for sure.” My palms broke into a full sweat. “Hey, let’s go sit outside.” Fresh air.

  Adrian grabbed two more beers from Josh before holding the door for me, guiding me outside with his hand on my lower back. His touch didn’t send electric shockwaves of passion through my body, but it didn’t feel horrible either - which was a bit disconcerting. I’d hoped it would bother me, to have Adrian touch me. It didn’t. It was grounding somehow - familiar.

  “Um, let’s walk a little.” I was too unnerved to sit.

  An air of familiarity walked us down the beach. I didn’t feel like the emotionally wounded twenty-one year old who wouldn’t allow him to love her because she was scared. I shared a couple of good years with Adrian, and it was actually refreshing to see him. My heart, however, sat with a man named Bo, who had decided that Adrian was a smug bastard. The thought made me chuckle out loud.

  “What?” Adrian responded.

  “Nothing. Just this.” I motioned between the two of us. “Here we are, walking on the beach in Cape Cod, potential business associates. How are you Adrian? Are you happy?”

  Adrian shrugged, “I’m happy. I have a great job, I get to work with a lot of great people and agencies, and I live mostly in Boston.” This is news.

  “Boston?”

  “Yea, I travel a lot between the different agencies I help represent. Not a bad life having to travel all over New England, if you ask me.” His tone sounded melancholy.

  “What about your girlfriend? Does she mind all the travel?” I looked up at him expectantly. Please tell me you have a girlfriend.

  “Nah, no girlfriend for me, Ember.” He turned to the ocean and sat in the sand.

  Crap.

  “You OK?” I carefully positioned myself next to Adrian in the sand, intentionally avoiding physical contact.

  “Ember . . .” His voice was tight.

  Shit.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I immediately realized I was echoing his words from our last serious conversation. I couldn’t be cold with Adrian. He’d given me no reason to.

  “Ah, man.” He was wringing his hands tightly. “I’m just, uh, I just want to say I’m sorry.” He reached out and rubbed my knee for a second before clasping his hands back together.

  He turned toward me with clouded eyes, biting his lower lip.

  “Adrian, what could you possibly be sorry for?” I had an idea, but my pulse raced. My pulse had always raced around Adrian.

  “I know it was a long time ago, but I shouldn’t have done that to you - told you I loved you because I was scared to lose you. I lost you anyway, and we were both hurt. You told me to stop, you said I didn’t love you, but it was all I had left to try to hold on to you.”

  “Adrian.” I stopped him. I’d heard enough. “We were too young, that’s all. I got scared. I knew how I felt for you and it was unfair; you weren’t looking for a relationship.” My memory winced against the pain.

  “Ember, I loved you even before we had sex for the first time, but I was too chickenshit to admit it.” This is also news.

  “Adrian, it’s in the past, OK? No need to drudge it up.” I stood and brushed the sand from my body. The charge that I thought didn’t exist between us threatened in the distance.

  Adrian stood, and his soft fingertips grazed my hand without expectation as we turned to walk back down the beach. I considered grabbing his hand; it would be so easy, so us. Instead, I pretended not to notice and continued drinking my beer; his fingertips courting mine for the rest of the walk.

  When we got back to the deck at Finnegan’s I was relieved to see Monica sitting there, out of her house. Sitting there with a suspicious look on her face, but sitting there nonetheless.

  “Monica, good to see you!” Adrian approached Monica and as she stood up to hug him, he lifted her and swung her around. She looked far less than impressed.

  “Adrian. Boy, you know how to make an entrance,” Monica said flatly.

  “Well, ladies, I’m going to head inside for another beer.” He squeezed my fingertips for a split second before ducking inside.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Monica regained her seated position.

  “Friggen Adrian.” I gulped before telling her about our conversation on the beach.

  Monica leaned forward, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

  “He told you he loved you?!”

  “Back then, not now, Monica - relax.”

  “No, Em, no man walks on the beach to tell a girl he was ‘just having sex with’ five years ago that he loved her five years ago.” She had a point, and I swallowed it hard.

  I wanted Bo to come to the bar; I reached for my cell phone which Monica quickly snatched away.

  “Hey, Asshole, what are you doing?”

  “You may not call Bo until we address Adrian, Ember,” Monica’s voice was clipped and serious.

  “Monica, did I miss something? There’s not anything to discuss.” Nothing I want to discuss.

  “Adrian ‘I fool around but love no one’ Turner admitted that he was in love with you. It may have been five years ago, but he’s still got it for you. I saw the way you two were walking back here. It was like you were walking to class all over again.”

  I shrugged, but my shoulders suddenly felt heavier. “So what, Monica, I’m not in love with him anymore.”

  “How do you know?”

  “What the hell are you saying? You know I’m in love with Bo. What’s your deal?” My voice rose. I was pissed.

  Monica’s eyes filled with tears. “Look at what just happened with me and Josh. We fell hard and madly in love with each other two years ago and now - nothing. Josh says I might not be his core-shaker. Ember, I know that Bo told Josh that he feels like he’s known you for a thousand lifetimes, and I know that right now you feel that way too - but is it the smart choice?”

  Her words tripped me. Monica was telling me to think about love, to think about my feelings for Bo. I’d spent the last week riding the waves of feeling and emotion, playing my friggen guitar on the beach, and now my best friend was telling me to use my head. Hurt splashed across my face.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but if you want to be sure about Bo, don’t you think you ought to be sure about Adrian first?” The words seemed to pain her as she spoke them.

  “What the hell? You said that you’ve never seen me happier. I’m singing more, playing the guitar, I whispered to Bo that I loved him as he slept. I’m in love with him Monica and it supersedes any feelings of love I ever thought I had for Adrian. We made sense on paper five years ago, with our intellect and our ambitions. But that was it, just stats. I don’t really see how that translates to right now.” I stood up and huffed to the door.

  “Em! Wait!” Monica followed me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doling out relationship advice when I’m still hurting. You’re right. I haven’t ever seen you so happy. I just-”

  “It’s too late, Mon, you’re already up here,” I said as I tapped my head.

  As I stormed through the door, my knees nearly gave out at the sight of Bo and Adrian at the bar, drinking and chatting with Josh. All three of them looked up at Monica and me at the same time, a mix of emotions splayed across their faces. I looked back at Monica, who’s eyes amplified in a “what are we going to do?” sort of way. I grabbed her hand and headed for the far exit; quickly stomping out any residual anger I had toward her.

  “We’re going to Lost Dog and we’re going to get drunk,” I said, loud enough for at least Josh to hear.

>   She smiled like she’d just won the lottery. We breezed past the three men who sat there with dumbfounded looks on their faces, each for their own reason.

  Chapter Thirteen

  One finds themselves at Lost Dog in only the direst of situations. It’s dark and more than a little dingy, but the liquor is cheap and flowing; exactly what Monica and I needed.

  I was mad. Mad at Bo for our pseudo star-crossed situation, mad at Adrian for showing up; really I was mad at Adrian for being involved at all. I was mad at Josh for breaking Monica’s heart, mad that Monica made me think about what feelings I might have for Adrian, and mad that I wanted to run away with Bo and play the guitar on every beach in America.

  “Do you think they’ll follow us?” Monica sounded breathless, as if we were in an action movie.

  “Who the hell cares? We’ve had a century’s worth of shitty days between the two of us this week.” We took my car to get there faster and we were at LD, as we called it, in less than two minutes.

  The pounding wails of Lil Jon were the only rewards for muscling through the sweaty belligerence of the entryway. We tore up to the liquor buffet with purpose.

  “Two shots please!” I shouted into the bartender’s pierced ear.

  “What do you want?” He leaned in to hear my answer.

  “Does it look like it matters?” Monica shouted in to his other ear.

  With a knowing grin, the bartender set up two shot glasses and urgently filled them.

  “Here’s to us. We love each other unconditionally and would never screw each other over!” Monica shouted.

  “Truth!” I tipped my head back, and let the burning liquid coat my throat with indifference.

  Monica and I rarely went out with inebriation in our sights. That was a pastime typically left in college. However, the past week had beaten the hell out of me, and I’d had enough. I fully intended to take it out on whatever the bartender was pouring.

  After our third shot Monica got a text message.

  “What fresh hell is that?” I asked in a surly voice.

  “Christ. It’s Josh. His first text to me in two days and he tells me that he, Adrian, and Bo are on their way here. Evidently they’re concerned.” Monica put air-quotes around the last word and I hooted loudly.