by Alex Rosa
I can’t help myself as I take a step forward forcing her body to take a step back, bumping with the table.
“Troy …” she manages to slip between our lips.
Little does she know that when she says my name it has the opposite effect of stopping me.
I lift my hands from my pockets and place them on the top of the high-waisted skirt she’s wearing, but her firm palms against my chest tell me she’s stopping me.
She dips her tongue into my mouth as if to tease, getting a taste before pulling away.
“Not on office hours, and plus, you know we shouldn’t.”
I’m getting used to being able to match the small V that forms between her eyes with the guilt of the situation.
This is when my resolve comes quick, and I pull my face farther away from hers.
We aren’t together, and we haven’t made any plans either, but she lets me do things like this. I refuse to let her go though, my fingertips digging into the fabric of her skirt, pulling her against me.
“Sorry,” I breathe out. “I almost lost control.”
She shakes her head but allows me to see her smile. It’s easy with the door shut. It’s always easier when it’s just us we have to worry about.
She turns to look out of the expansive windows to the city. She’s thinking about something, and I’m about to ask what about, but it seems since this past weekend, or maybe since our talk in Times Square, there’s a sense of ease when it comes to talking to me, even if it does come with a bit of teasing from time to time.
“I’m meeting Noah this weekend.”
It’s obvious what she means. She’s going to dump him.
Her dark brown eyes pool into caramel. They’re sad. I don’t like the thought, so I kiss her.
She hums her approval, confirming it must’ve been the right thing to do. I make the kiss quick as I pull away to say, “That’s a good thing, right?”
She licks over her lips as she less than confidently nods.
Worry riddles its way into my gut, and I don't know what to do with the foreign feeling. I’m tempted to step back. I’ve never feared crowding a woman, but the thought crosses my mind. So I do my best and decide on taking the instinct for what it’s worth. I’m no good at things like this.
I let my hands fall from her hips and I do take a step back.
“What are you doing?” she says. It’s almost a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I reply equally as quiet.
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know if you need space or not,” I shrug.
She takes a deep breath, chewing on her bottom lip. “Space?” she repeats, as if testing the word. “I don’t want space.”
“No?”
She shakes her head. “I’m just scared.”
She reaches out for me, beckoning me to close the distance again, so I do. She strokes my tie as she tries to focus on her fingers. I don’t know Scared Jules, I only know the Feisty and Resilient Jules.
“Scared of what?” I ask.
“You …” I nod, and she adds, “… and hurting Noah.”
I don’t know how to reply, but I watch her cautiously. I get ahold of the words that I know are there. “If it makes any difference, I don’t want to hurt Noah either.”
Her eyes squint with comical indifference, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. But I can’t help what feels right.”
The corner of her lips twitch. “Aren’t you going to say anything about how I’m scared of you?”
“Nope.” I cannot help the wide stretch to my lips as I watch a look of annoyance flit over her face.
She tries shoving at my chest playfully, but I grab for her wrists and don’t waste another second as I crash my lips to hers, giving her the answer she wants the only way I know how to.
There’s a break in today’s weather as I stand at one of Central Park’s open entryways that lead down a meandering path to what feels like nowhere among the abyss of the city. I don’t think the cold weather helps this effect either, but at least the clear skies make it seem somewhat welcoming.
I look around at the area that I committed to memory just months ago, and remember feeling flighty and giddy, telling myself to never forget my first real date in this metropolitan monstrosity.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
It feels wrong choosing the same route that Noah’s and my first date took, but I don’t know the area well enough to choose another.
I kick at some black ice in frustration, and then just as quickly realize it’s harder and tougher than the toe of my pretty brown boot. I regret the maneuver entirely, hoping that my boot is okay.
What’s my life become? Have I been hanging out with Megan too much?
I shake out my shoulders and pace the entryway, scratching at the arms of my coat. I’ve been itchy with stress since leaving my apartment. My nerves don’t feel knotted; they feel like squirming parasites within my gut wreaking havoc on my insides. I’m going mad, aren’t I?
On my way here I strolled past two bars and debated on whether liquor might remedy the situation.
Unfortunately, my voice of reason was quick to chime in: alcoholism is not the answer.
I nod my agreement as I continue to pace, waiting for Noah. Our chat on the phone was brief and I hated that there seemed to be a happy, ringing tone to his words. However, I’ve been driving myself so insane this entire week that I wouldn’t put it past myself that I made it up in my head just to amplify my guilt.
My therapist always told me I tend to be a sadist when it comes to my feelings.
Troy’s been annoyingly perfect even if we aren’t together. He’s been giving me space even though I told him not to. It’s the right thing to do and I hate him and adore him for it.
It’s the only thing that’s been pushing this whole thing forward. I keep telling myself that no matter how much of a disaster there might be to clean up after, being able to kiss Troy freely will make it worth it. I wish we had discussed our plan of action, but maybe it’s better we handle one hurdle at a time. We don’t need to discuss how to handle us when I’m still attached to someone else.
Troy strolled into my office a couple times this week mainly to discuss work. He might’ve snuck a secret kiss in twice, but other than that we decided we needed to keep our distance until I let go of Noah.
As much as shooting Troy smiles from across the halls has been nice, I’d be lying if I haven’t been dreading this very moment all week.
“Julia?”
I swivel around on my heels, met with the handsome sight of Noah. His olive green mountain man jacket hugs his broad chest, and his tan jeans are unfairly tight.
Deep breaths.
“Noah, hi …”
He takes long strides to reach me, and pulls me into a hug that could end all hugs. He’s too good at it. I hug right back, savoring it more than I should, wondering if I’m ready to give this up.
“Ready for a lunchtime walk? I think I could kill someone for a cup of coffee right now.”
“Not yet caffeinated?”
I want to tell him that I spent too much time wallowing in the darkness of my bedroom before forcing myself to shower and walk out the door to get here, but I decide against it. “Nope.”
I nervously strut my way down the path I have no real plan of action other than when I feel the moment is right I’ll start with something like, “I’m so sorry but …”
Yeah, I’m aware at how horribly I planned this. I swear I had a speech outlined in my head, but everything’s shot to shit now that he’s standing in front of me.
I turn around to find him slowly following, and I try not to seem so intrigued by the funny curve to his lips. I know I’m acting strange, but he needs to stop being so adorable about it.
I shrug, trying to shake the feeling he’s trying to figure me out.
Noah’s grin still makes the butterflies caged in my gut
flutter, but soon the butterflies dissolve in the acid basin of guilt they’re also trapped in.
He extends his hand out to me as he approaches, unknowing of our impending doom. I don’t want it to be this way. I don’t want to hurt him.
To think just months ago, I had never broken up with anyone in my life, nor thought I was capable of it. Yet, I broke up with my high school sweetheart, which was surprisingly easy to do when I had a plane ticket already in my purse. But, that felt like the right time, the right everything.
This time, it’s just one of those necessary things. It feels worse. It feels like my fault. I know it is.
However, this is the first step, isn’t it? I moved here for happiness. I need to do what that plan requires. I just hate the collateral damage of the situation. I shouldn’t have let us go on this long.
My hope is to weave in an apology of never meaning for it to end like this, but a part of me knows that I won’t be able to say exactly what I want. He’ll start to ask questions.
I hesitate and see the glimmer in his eyes that he’s noticed my overthinking, which has me nervously snatching his hand and tangling my fingers around his.
I give him a smile. Regardless of the tidal wave gathering inside me, the smile is genuine.
“It’s a beautiful day.” He mutters as idle chitchat, and the impersonal statement makes me think he suspects something.
There’s a part of me that wants to tug him close and kiss his tone away, but I can’t. That would be unfair.
I look up at the sky, admiring the clear blue, and I notice that the snow doesn’t seem affected by it like I would assume. There’s still a solid foot of thick snow over Central Park, but the air feels crisp, cool, and clean, considering we’re in the middle of the city.
“I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand what it means to live in the snow,” I reply wistfully. “I mean, maybe I will in time, but I just assume if the sun is out, it should be warm.” I tug at my scarf for emphasis as I shoot him a smirk. Normal feels good.
He seems to relax as he takes a step closer, bumping me adoringly. “It’s winter. The whole world experiences seasons. You need to catch up,” he chides.
I grab for the open edge of his jacket, and seemingly following my lead he leans his body closer and reflexively lets his lips fall to mine.
My heart tenses in my chest as I allow the moment to happen. When he pulls away he’s smiling again. I want to smile, but all I can do is hyperventilate.
He licks over his lips, offering me a wink.
Oh, sweet Noah …
I turn away. I feel a soft clench of his hand around mine.
“Babe, are you okay?”
God, I hate being called that.
It gives me the courage to take a deep, confident breath. I tug him farther up the path as I nod. I’m so far from okay. I remind myself that this is for Noah’s own good. I can’t make us work, no matter how much his scruff has my fingertips begging to touch it. This is a ticking time bomb that’s begging to explode.
I just have to do it. Like a band-aid. Isn’t that a saying? Just rip it off? Quick and painless … wait, no. There’s pain, right? Oh, crap. I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Noah, I—“
“JULLLLIIIAAAAAA!”
My words get choked off by not only my sudden squeaking, but by an adorable seven year-old who collides with my legs, wrapping her arms around them into a tight hug. Her hair is peppered with melting snowflakes, and they stand out like glitter on her midnight hair.
My mouth bobs open, trying to figure out how I should finish my sentence. “Li-Lizzy?”
Her giggles emerge from her chilled, bright pink lips as she looks up. “Ye-th?” she sings with her lisp adorably prominent.
Noah, unfazed by the interaction, ruffles her hair. “Little Monster, are you here to play in the snow?”
She lets go of my legs and nods to face her uncle.
I swallow the bile slowly rising in my throat.
“Daddy brought me here th-o we could build a th-no man!” She pulls a carrot from her pastel purple jacket pocket.
Noah laughs. “Where’s your dad?”
I shake my head. No. Not, where’s dad? I have something I have to say. Something I need to do. And I cannot possibly stomach seeing that jerk-face I adore. This thick, sticky layer of guilt drips and coats over my heart like you would expect the poison on Snow White’s apple does.
Lizzy hands me her carrot, eyeing me with an intensity that tells me to guard the precious vegetable with my life as she grabs Noah’s free hand, tugging us not up the path but over the small mountain of snow that lines the sidewalk.
I trip as I try and follow, fumbling over the piled peak onto the flat portion of snow, landing right on my ass. I purse my lips in frustration to avoid any profanities in front of Lizzy, but my grumble is easily identifiable of what it should be.
Noah laughs, and although I’m lying in a pile of snow, the sound warms me.
He’s suddenly leaning over me. “Need some help?” He asks with a little too much of that New Yorker twang.
I lift up my head, and try to fight a smile that I wish wouldn’t be so instant. “Are you mocking me?”
“Maybe a little.” He smirks and it damn near breaks me.
I can see it in his eyes that he’s going to kiss me again. I scramble up from the snow, and he eyes me curiously as I do.
He opens his mouth to say something, probably to inquire more about my bizarre behavior, but if Noah’s laughter simply warms me, the sound of Troy’s from feet away damn near brings my body to a boiling point.
I dart my eyes upward, and the moment Troy’s stare locks with mine his laughter comes to a full stop. He looks down at Noah rising from the snow and the first thing out of his mouth is, “What are you two doing here?”
I can see the nervous bob to his Adam’s apple as he finishes his sentence.
I look away and help Noah from the snow, faking a smile as I do while uttering as nonchalantly as possible, “I told Noah to meet me in the park for a stroll.”
My sentence ends brusquely, hinting that I came here to do exactly what he’s thinking I came here to do.
Noah walks over to Troy, jabbing him playfully in the shoulder. “Who knew you do the snow.”
Troy runs a hand through his casually unkempt hair as he forces a grin.
“Elizabeth is hard to say no to sometimes. She told me we never do anything in the winter.”
Lizzy grabs for my hand and pulls me toward what I can see is a four-foot high snowman. She snickers, “We hibernate like bears!”
I laugh, and the laugh feels good.
I willingly follow her. I don’t know what choice I have but to wing it as I peer over my shoulder to see the two different halves of my heart continue to chat.
“Jule-ths, we need arms! Where can we find arms?”
I tap my chin dramatically and say, “Sticks! We need sticks for arms!”
“Okay! I’ll go get th-ticks. You take care of the nose!” She points at my pocket before trotting away.
I sigh, pulling in a deep breath as I turn to face the three tiered snow man, one ball of snow on top of the other from largest to smallest.
Troy appears at my side. Before I acknowledge him I take note that Noah’s helping Lizzy find two decent twigs in the snow.
His arm is barely grazing mine, but I feel hypersensitive to his presence, needing to feed off his ability to be inherently cool, but wanting to touch him all the same.
“I didn’t know you were going to meet Noah in Central Park,” he blurts out.
I shrug as I watch Troy stick two rounded rocks in the snowman’s head for eyes. “Well, I didn’t really have a game plan, and this place made sense at the time.”
Finally, I lift my stare to his and I hate that he makes me feel better with just a glance. His eyes devour me regardless of the circumstances, and his woody cologne wraps around me in
such a way that it has me thinking of summer breezes instead of the winter chill.
He whispers this time, “Are you still, ya know?”
I stick the carrot into the snowman, creating its nose. “Um, no. I obviously can’t break up with him right now.”
He nods, but the tenseness around his mouth tells me he wishes he wasn’t here interrupting the moment he most definitely wants to happen. “It’s going to be okay,” he adds quietly as if sensing my inner turmoil.
“Daddy, look! Arms!”
Troy allows the tension to leave his face as it falls on the light of his life. It’s one of my favorite things to witness, and makes the whole situation bearable. He takes the sticks from her hands and places them in the body of the snowman.
Noah comes up behind her with a clump of dry leaves that he insists must be sprinkles on top of the snowman. “See, hair!” he jokes and his eyes lift to mine, and I try my best to return his enthusiasm with a smile, but each moment is getting harder than the last.
Lizzy’s giggles swirl around her words. “Uncle Noah! You’re th-illy!”
“What about this snowman’s dashing smile, my dear Lizzy?” I ask.
She grins wide at the question. It feels like we’re all here just to make this child happy. She sees it too as her eyes flicker turquoise while she eyes each of us around her before pulling out a handful of pebbles from her pocket. “With these!”
I nod, waving her toward me. Sensing my goal she lifts up her arms. I kneel down to pick her up to put her at the snowman’s eye level.
“Make him smile, Lizzy.”
I can feel the warmth of the real smiles that are aimed at me. I don’t have to be looking at them to know how they look either. Noah, I’m sure, is cherishing me like he always does, and Troy is probably looking at me like I’m the center of his universe while holding the other orbiting love of his life.
Why does my chest ache so badly?
I lean toward the snowman to allow Lizzy to place the pebbles in its face and she’s practically leaping with excitement in my arms after every pressing pebble. “Jullliiaaa!! I am th-o glad we saw you in the park! Thi-th is th-o much fun!”
