by Beth Merlin
“Anguilla,” Joshua said, chiming in before she could tell me. “Cap Juluca. Have you been there?”
All the blood in my body rushed to my face, and Joshua’s gaze seared into my skin. “No. No, I haven’t been there,” I answered quickly.
I had been there. Last Memorial Day, Joshua had shown up at my office and surprised me with two first-class tickets to Anguilla. He’d arranged for us to stay in a private beachfront villa at Cap Juluca, an exclusive five-star resort. We’d spent the days snorkeling, sunbathing, and taking long naps together in the hammocks on the beach. At night, we got couples massages under the stars and ate dinner on our patio that overlooked the ocean. It was like we were on our own private island, in our own private world.
For the first time in our relationship, we’d been completely at ease with each other, and by the end of the three days, I’d naively begun to believe that, somehow, things would work out. Once Alicia saw how happy and in love we were, she’d approve, or better yet, be so consumed with her new relationship that she wouldn’t even care. But on the last day of our trip, just as I was getting out of the shower, I’d heard him on the phone with her. It’d only needed to hear a few words before I understood the purpose of the call.
She wanted him back. She was sorry and she wanted him back.
Moments after he hung up, my own cell phone had starting ringing. I’d hesitated to answer.
“It’s Alicia,” I said, looking down at the caller ID.
“She’ll be home in a few weeks. Mid-July,” Joshua said, picking the phone up off the nightstand and handing it to me. It kept ringing, but I didn’t answer. I knew the information waiting for me on the other end, I didn’t need it confirmed. The look on his face said enough.
“We knew this wasn’t forever,” I said, my voice, betraying my emotions.
He unwrapped me from my towel and guided me back to the bed, where we lay in each other’s arms, trying to ignore the bombshell that had just dropped on us both.
But I couldn’t ignore it. Even if I’d been momentarily comforted by the weight of his arms around me as we stood in the waves of the blue ocean, or blinded to reality by the alluring glow of the Caribbean sun, because of Alicia’s call I had no choice but to accept that we existed on borrowed time.
Pulling myself from my memories, I said, “I’ve heard Anguilla’s really beautiful.”
“I can’t wait. Joshua rented us the most amazing beachfront villa,” she gushed.
“It’ll be fantastic,” I answered, my cheeks heating up again.
Alicia reached over the table and touched my face. “Maybe you are coming down with something. You’re very flushed.”
“Yeah, I should get going,” I said, standing up from my chair.
Alicia rushed over and hugged me. It was so unlike her that it caught me completely off guard.
“Whoa,” I said, grabbing the table for support, “what was that for?”
“I’m proud of you,” she answered.
“For what?”
“Taking charge of your life like this. Going after what you want.”
“Then why does it feel a little bit like I’m running away?” I said it softly enough that Joshua, who was still seated, couldn’t hear.
“I know it’s a cliché, but sometimes you have to lose yourself to find yourself again,” Alicia said.
I hugged her back. Joshua stood up and moved toward me to give me a friendly goodbye kiss on the cheek.
“It’s fine. Stay where you are,” I said, motioning him to sit back down. “I’ll call you later, Ali. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
I walked out of the restaurant wondering why it didn’t feel like a huge weight had been lifted. It was unseasonably humid, the air almost suffocating as I walked toward home. I made it half a block before I heard my name being called from down the street. I turned around. It was Joshua, waving my jean jacket in the air and speeding up to catch me.
“You left this on your seat,” he said, slightly out of breath.
“Thanks,” I said, putting it on, even though I was uncomfortably warm.
We stood in silence. I held my breath and waited for him to say something—anything—that let me know my leaving town rattled him in some way or another. He remained silent.
“Was I just a distraction?” I said, using up my very last ounce of self-respect.
“What?”
“Was I just a convenient way of getting over Alicia? You didn’t have to look hard to find me. I was right there waiting in the wings like always.”
“Is that what you think Gigi?”
I looked down at the ground. He lifted my chin up and kissed me hard. Harder and more passionately than he ever had before. I closed my eyes and let the moment wash over me.
Then every emotion that’d been bubbling up for years charged through me like a lightning bolt. I pushed Joshua away and slapped him hard across the face.
He raised his hand to his cheek and looked like a puppy who’d been scolded for bad behavior. I’d never seen him look so hurt.
He rubbed at his stinging cheek and sighed. “Have a good summer, Georgica.” The words caught in his throat.
I inhaled deeply, still relishing in the tingle of his lips against mine, which matched the stinging in my palm. I reached out to console him as I’d done so many times before, but it was too late. He was already gone.
Chapter Seven
Since neither of us had a car at camp, Jordana and I arranged for a local taxi service to take us and a few other counselors to the bar. Rosie’s looked exactly the way I’d pictured it. There were booths on either side of the dark wood-paneled walls, and in the middle was a long bar with about ten stools lined up around it. In the entranceway to the bathroom, was a cigarette dispenser straight out of the seventies and an old-fashioned jukebox. In the far left back corner was a pool table, and dartboards lined the back wall. In New York City, a place like Rosie’s would be considered one step above a dive bar. To the Chinooka counselors, it was the hottest spot in town.
A few of the other counselors were already sitting in booths drinking pitchers of beer. Jordana sat down with them, and I went up to the bartender. “Can I get a vodka martini straight up?” I asked, digging a twenty-dollar bill out of my purse.
“No mixed drinks, sweetheart,” the bartender answered.
“Okay, do you have shots then?”
“Depends what you want,” he responded.
“Tequila?”
He poured me a shot and handed me a slice of lime. I downed it and slammed my glass down on the bar.
“Easy does it, honey,” he warned.
“Gigi,” I said, extending my hand.
“Rosie.” He shook my hand.
“You’re Rosie?”
“In the flesh.” He refilled my shot glass.
“Wow.” I swallowed the second shot and sucked on the piece of lime.
“My reputation precedes me?”
I spit the lime into a napkin. “Sort of. I’m a counselor at Camp Chinooka. I didn’t realize Rosie was an actual person, let alone a man.”
“Charlie Roseman, aka Rosie,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” I said, offering my hand.
“Welcome home, young man,” Rosie shouted behind me and across the bar to Perry, who’d just walked in the front door. I turned back around on my stool.
“He’s a great guy. Have you met Perry yet?” Rosie asked.
Perry came over to the bar and sat down on the stool next to me. He looked great in a crisp white button-down shirt and dark jeans. His dark wavy hair was perfectly tousled. “What’s the lady drinking?” he asked Rosie.
“I’m doing tequila shots,” I answered.
“Brilliant,” Perry replied.
Rosie poured us each a shot, and I drank mine quickly. Perry didn’t touch his.
“A toast,” Perry said, lifting his shot glass in the air. “To second chances.”
“Not sure I believe in second chanc
es,” I said.
“What do you believe in?”
“Tequila,” I said, lifting my empty shot glass in the air.
“To tequila,” he said, clinking his shot glass with mine. He put the glass down without drinking any.
I eyed his full shot. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Perry?”
“You think I’m trying to get you drunk?”
“Aren’t you?”
“You seemed to be off to a pretty good start before I got here,” he said.
“You think you’re so fantastic, don’t you?” I said, the tequila taking away all reticence. “What’s your real agenda, Perry? Do you have a thing for Jordana? Tara?”
“I don’t have an agenda,” he said.
I hadn’t eaten much all day and the warmth of the alcohol surged through my arms and legs.
“Of course you do,” I said. I stood up from my stool and reached back to it for support. “All guys like you do.”
He pushed down on the stool to steady it. “Let me help you,” he said, extending his hand out to mine.
“I don’t need your help,” I snapped.
I pushed past him and headed over to the group of guys at the pool table. I introduced myself and joined in their game. They ordered a round of beers, and we drank and shot pool. I’d only ever played once before at a small pool hall in Chinatown with Joshua last summer. Although I wasn’t very good, I was starting to loosen up and heed Tara’s advice about having a good time. It was easy with these guys. There was no pretense, and as far as I could tell, the only game being played was eight ball.
When it was my turn to shoot, Danny, one of the guys I’d been flirting with, leaned over to show me how to hold the pool cue. Within seconds we were kissing. It was completely impulsive, but I didn’t care one bit. I was never going to see him again, so in my estimation, he was the perfect distraction.
When we finished the game, Danny pulled me away from the table and into a dark corner of the bar, where we continued to make out. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Perry watching us from his bar stool. I closed my eyes and shut him and everything else out, trying to remember what it was like to just kiss someone without it meaning anything more than that.
Danny and I spent the rest of the night going back and forth between the bar and the dark corner by the bathroom. After a few hours, I crossed the line from drunk to absolutely plastered. I looked around the bar for Jordana. She was nowhere to be found, but Perry was still sitting on his stool watching me. I staggered over to him and asked him if he thought I was putting on a good show.
“You should go home,” he said firmly.
“You should mind your own business,” I snapped back at him.
“Rosie said that guy you’ve been hanging out with is kind of a jerk.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t know him very well,” I said.
“Neither do you. Gigi, what are you doing?” he asked.
“Whatever I want,” I said, emphasizing the word whatever. “Stay out of it.”
I turned and walked back to Danny, who was waiting for me in our corner. We went back to kissing, and then the Def Leppard song ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ came on the jukebox. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was pulling Danny on top of the bar to dance with me.
Then nothing.
Several hours later, I awoke from my drunken haze in a strange bed surrounded by unfamiliar things. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and started to take in my surroundings before I was hit with a wave of nausea, followed by a pounding headache.
“Here. Take these and drink this.” A familiar voice with a British accent sounded through the darkness, and someone handed me two Advil and a bottle of water. When he stepped into the light, I saw that the familiar voice belonged to Perry.
“Thanks.” I took the Advil and chugged almost half of the water. “How did I get here?”
“Well, first you tried to do a striptease on top of the bar, and then you basically blacked out. I didn’t think you’d want Gordy to find out about it, so I brought you here instead of your cabin,” he said.
“What time is it?” I asked before finishing off my water.
“Almost four a.m.,” he answered.
“I have to go. Where can I toss this?” I asked, holding up the empty water bottle. I tried to get up from the bed but got dizzy and had to sit back down.
“I’ll throw it into the rubbish bin,” he said, gently taking the bottle from my hand and brushing past my arm. “Stay. Let me make you something to eat.”
Although I wasn’t hungry, greasy food was really the only way to sober up. “Fine, but then I have to go.”
“Deal,” he said.
He turned on a light, and as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I looked around the cabin. It had been renovated into a charming summer cottage complete with a modern kitchen, large-screen TV, and air-conditioning.
“So is this what winning the Gordy three years in a row gets you? Deluxe accommodations? How come you don’t have to bunk with the campers?” I asked.
“Gordy renovated some of the older cabins a few years ago so he could rent them out during the off-season. When I almost didn’t come back this summer, he sweetened the deal and let me stay here instead of one of the Birch bunks so I could work on my thesis. Beans and toast?” he asked, holding up a can of baked beans.
“Beans?”
“Too English for you, I guess? How about two eggs and toast?”
“Extra greasy.”
“Extra greasy. You got it.” He turned his attention to the stove.
The Advil was beginning to kick in, so I stood up to look around some more. The cabin was practically overflowing with lined sheets of music and vinyl records. They covered almost every inch of spare space. There was even an old-school record player resting in the corner. Leave it to the English guy to tote along his own record player.
“Did you bring all of this stuff on the plane?” I asked, amazed by the sheer amount of sheet music stacked everywhere.
“I shipped them here. To complete my doctorate, I need to write an original composition, but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it’s my fate to be head counselor for Birch forever. Your eggs are ready,” he said, turning off the burner.
I moved to the small kitchen table, which was covered with more lined paper. I made a small space for a plate, and Perry served me two eggs sunny-side up, toast, and some coffee. “Thank you. This is perfect.” I took my first bite. “I can’t believe how much I drank.”
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You were doing shots at the bar by yourself before I even got there. What are you trying to drink away?” Perry asked.
“Nothing. Can’t a girl just have a good time at a bar on her night off?”
“You passed out. I carried you here.”
“And?”
“So that’s a typical night for you in the big city, Princess?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “No, not typical, but it happens.”
“Seemed like you were out to prove something. Nobody drinks that much just for fun.”
He was right. So many of the moments I most regretted had been fueled by too much alcohol and a need to be out of control. But the biggest mistake I’d ever made—getting together with Joshua—hadn’t occurred in a drunken stupor. Worse. It had happened I was stone cold sober. I’d been fully in control of my faculties when I succumbed to my desire for him. Years of pining sated in one reckless moment. I’d spent the last year replaying our relationship over and over in my head, wondering.
If I had it all to do again, would I?
Chapter Eight
About a month after Alicia went to London for her training program, I was enjoying a night alone with a glass of wine and some bad television when Joshua let himself into my apartment. I was startled by the sound of the door opening but was actually more nervous that it was Joshua entering and not a stranger. He must’ve come straight f
rom work. He was still wearing his suit and tie from the day and irritatingly looked as pristine as when he’d put them on at least twelve hours earlier. I looked down at my outfit—ripped pajama pants and a Columbia Law T-shirt that’d belonged to my father—and sank a little deeper into the couch.
“Hey. I hope I didn’t come at a bad time. Alicia left me her keys, and I was nearby. Must be weird to be here alone, huh?”
“The time will go fast,” I said, lifting the remote to turn off the TV.
“Unless she decides to stay in London with the guy she’s seeing.”
So, that’s why he came by. Joshua was looking to unload on his usual sounding board and I was here waiting for him.
He took off his suit jacket and hung it on the rack by the front door. “At first she said she just wanted a break, but now she isn’t returning any of my calls or texts. “Why do I feel like I just saw you?” he said, trying to change the subject.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. We haven’t seen each other in months.”
“I remember now,” he said, smiling. “I got sucked into a Top Designer marathon a few weekends ago.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can’t wait for the next season to air so they’ll stop showing mine.”
“Why? You were great. I was rooting for you to win the whole time.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“Why wouldn’t I say that? We’re friends, aren’t we, Gigi?”
“Of course we’re friends.”
He sat down next to me on the couch. “It’s funny. I’ve known you longer than Alicia, but when was the last time you and I went for a drink or a meal?”
“You haven’t known me longer than Alicia. We all met at camp.”
“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he said.
“Remember what?”
“Alicia hopping from seat to seat on the bus, talking to anyone who would listen while you were homesick or something.”
I shook my head. “That’s right. You came and sat with me.”
Of course, I remembered. That moment had set into motion a lifetime of pining for someone who would never be mine. I remembered how I couldn’t believe that Joshua Baume had wanted to sit with me. He was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen and he’d chosen me over Alicia and all the other girls on the bus clamoring to be near him.
