Crossing Paths (18 page)

On my way back to my office, Cohen joins me.

“Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you today. I have lots to get done before the weekend.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I understand. I’ve been buried all day, too.” I smile and touch his arm.

“Alright, well, I better get back to it. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” I say with my brows furrowed as he walks out the doorway.

That was a strange conversation.
I figured he would ask me out for a date tonight or at least sit and talk with me for a little bit. I guess he really is busy.

I don’t see Cohen for the rest of the day, and when I get ready to leave work for the night, he is nowhere to be found. Checking out with Mr. Hargrove, I have this sinking feeling that something isn’t right, but I try and put the feelings aside.
I’m being paranoid because of past relationships. I need to give this a chance.

I go home, and feeling beat from my busy day, I eat a quick dinner and then head straight to bed. I take out a book and read until my eyes feel too heavy to keep open. I close the book and turn out the lights. I’m glad when sleep comes quickly.

Friday

The next morning is all sunshine as the light streams into my car windows on the way to work. I feel happy despite my minimal interaction with Cohen yesterday. Since it’s Friday, there’s not much to be unhappy about.

After I walk into my office, I sit at my desk and notice a folded piece of paper lying across my keyboard. My name is written in sloppy writing across the front. With curiosity, I open the paper.

June,

I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to say good-bye. I had to return home. I hope to call you soon. Please know that the last few days have been beautiful—much like you.

~C

My eyes begin to water as I look down at the rough paper. I try to gather myself together and sweep my emotions behind the curtain of my closed eyes.
I’m overreacting. He’s just a guy.
I knew that he would have to leave soon. I never even asked him when he had to head back home. From our conversation the other night, I assumed that we would see each other again outside of work before he left town.
He must have had something come up with his company back home. He’ll call.

As I work through the day, I check my personal phone, office voice mail, and email account too many times to count, and I’ve received no calls or messages from Cohen.
Of course, he is flying across the country today.
Who knows how many hours he could be stuck in airports and on airplanes?
I shouldn’t worry about it.

By the afternoon, I’ve moved through the sad stage, straight past the worried stage, and into the irritated stage.
Cohen hasn’t called. He hasn’t texted. He hasn’t emailed.
During a meeting today, Mr. Hargrove mentioned that a different associate would be handling Cohen’s phone calls for the next few days.

He could have at least had the decency to tell me that he was simply looking for a few fun nights out on the town.
Why in the world would he tell me all those things and then leave without a word?
I guess I should give him credit that he left a note, but that note left me more confused than if he wouldn’t have said anything at all.

It’s a good thing I didn’t tell my mom about our few dates. She would have relentlessly asked me about him, and I would have to tell her that he used me. I’m sure she would blame it on some unappealing quality I have, and then she’d suggest ways to
hold on
to the next boy that comes around to take a chance on me.

Frustrated, I pick up my phone and text Caroline.

Girls’ night tonight. Guys are ridiculous. —June

What? Are you okay? —Caroline

I guess. See you tonight. —June

I’ll pick up some take-out. —Caroline

I go back to wrapping things up with my emails. After I put a few finishing touches on a spreadsheet, I’m out the door. As I’m riding down the elevator, my phone trills. The sound is so quiet that I don’t hear it at first. It must be shoved in some invisible space. I put down my workbag and try to dig out my phone from the dark cave that is my purse. Of course, I can’t find it.

I’m still searching when the elevator door opens on the first floor, and three gray-haired men in business suits look at me like I’ve lost my mind. My workbag has fallen over, and part of its contents has emptied out onto the floor. My purse is half-slung over my shoulder with my opposite hand stuck deep inside. I swear that I’m normally more put together than this. One of the men walks into the elevator and presses the button to hold the door. After thanking him with a sheepish look, I gather my things and haphazardly toss them into my bag before exiting the elevator.
This day could not get any worse.

When I get to my car, I search through my purse again, and I’m still not able to find my phone. I think I might be hallucinating. I could have sworn I heard it ring three more times between the elevator and my car.

As I’m pulling out of the parking garage, a car flies into the entrance, causing me to brake quickly. My workbag falls to the floorboard, scattering papers and folders everywhere. In between a few of the papers, I see a green flashing light.
My phone!

I throw my car into park and dive toward the passenger seat. It’s not that I’m desperate, but it could be a text from Cohen. Grabbing the phone, I quickly flip to my messages screen. It’s not from Cohen.

Don’t forget about the baby shower tomorrow at 2. Mom is expecting you. —Addison

Well, that sucks.
I did forget. One of Addison’s close friends is having her first baby, and I really like her. I’ll have to convince Caroline to come with me. As much as I want to wallow in my disappointment about Cohen, maybe a baby shower will keep my mind off the whole situation. Cupcakes and party mints have a way of cheering me up.

Friday

Ever since Wednesday night, I’ve been trying to avoid June. I can’t believe the guy she met in New York is my brother.
What a freaking small world.
I tried to call him on Thursday, but he blew me off. His text said something about having to leave town. Next time I talk with him, I’m going to threaten him within an inch of his life if he hurts her. I know he’s in a hard spot, but he’s going to have to decide if he’s ready to put everything out there.

Unfortunately, I don’t think he understands the predicament he has put me in. Not only do I have to omit this particular truth from my best friend, but I also have to hide the fact that I’m dating her brother.
This situation couldn’t get any worse.

I’ve been trying to figure out how neither of them recognized the other. I mean, she’s been my best friend for about four years now. Then, I realized how it happened. I never referred to him as Cohen when I talked about him. Although his friends and many other people refer to him by his first name, my parents and I call him CJ most of the time. With our last name being Smith, it’s easy to overlook a definite connection. I also think about the vacation pictures I kept in my dorm room and the ones I now have on display at our apartment. Although my brother and I have always been very close, we didn’t take family trips together.

We were young when our parents divorced. I was eight years old, and Cohen was ten when it all came to a head. Truth be told, our parents probably should have never gotten married. I remember they argued a lot, and I don’t recall many smiles in my house before the divorce was finalized. At the time, I had no clue what was going on, and I was confused about our parents living in different houses. About six months later, my confusion turned to frustration and fear when our dad got a new job out of state. Being a ten-year-old boy, my brother wanted to have someone to play baseball with, so he decided to go live with our dad. I, of course, was scared to leave our mom’s side, and then my brother and our dad left.

I’ll never forget the night before Cohen moved eleven hours away.

“Care, don’t worry. We’ll still get to see each other.”

“No, we won’t. Why does Dad have to be so mean? I don’t want you to go.” I pouted with tears welling up in my eyes.

“He said I can come visit a bunch, and you’ll come see us, too.”

“But I don’t want you to go, CJ. If you stay, I promise I won’t spit in your baseball glove, and I won’t hide your books anymore.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said, shaking his head. “What if I promise I’ll call you all the time? Will that make it better?”

“No,” I said, my tears turning into sobs.

“Come here, Care. Go to sleep. Like Mom says, everything is better in the morning.”

That night, my brother held me in his arms until my tears turned to dreams.

When I woke up the next morning, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to open my eyes. I didn’t feel better, but I knew I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I helped Cohen as he finished packing a few things, and I made sure to slip a couple things into his suitcase—my favorite Barbie doll and a handmade card detailing how much I loved him and would miss him. I was so scared he would forget me.

Looking back, it’s funny to me that I wasn’t concerned about my dad leaving, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being without my brother. Even back then, my brother was a caring person who could draw anyone in with his gentle spirit.

Through the remainder of elementary and most of middle school, Cohen and I stayed close. We wrote letters, sent pictures, made frequent phone calls, and visited each other whenever we could. When he started high school, things began to change. Cohen started playing baseball, he made new friends, and he even had a steady girlfriend. When I needed something that he could provide from a long distance, he was still there for me, but our visits with each other dwindled considerably.

When I was a junior in high school, Cohen and Julie, his high school sweetheart, got married and moved to Seattle. Although he lived nearby, we still didn’t see much of each other since he was struggling through college courses, and Julie was starting up her bakery.

By the end of my senior year, we were living our own lives, only running into each other every now and then. I don’t think either of us wanted life to take over that way, but we were both so busy that it had to be okay for the time being.

When I left for college on the East Coast, I knew I would be cutting my ties to home even further, including my connection to my brother. It was a hard decision, but I felt it would help me grow into a better person.

Cohen and I still talked on the phone a few times a week, but after everything happened with Julie, he changed a lot. It was tough to know what he was going through but not be able to be there for him. I told my parents I thought he should move on, but it makes me nervous that he is using June to get back in the game.

June walks into the apartment and looks nothing like her normal cheery self. Her shoulders are slumped, and the red splotches on her face tell me she was crying on her way home. I know that whatever she’s worried about has to do with my brother.

“Bad day?” I ask, trying not to let on that I know anything about her situation.

“You could say that,” she says, slouching into the large comfy chair in our living room.

“Anything I can help with?”