Someday Maybe (16 page)

Part Two

“She hoped to be wise and reasonable in time; but alas! Alas! She must confess to herself that she was not wise yet.”

~Jane Austen’s PERSUASION

Chapter Twenty-Two

The castle is closer; practically in full view. But why am I alone? I’m not supposed to be alone. The patch of grass where I had once seen Meghan’s lifeless body is grown over, as though it’s been years. I clutch the shoulder strap of my trusty knapsack and make a beeline toward those lofty spirals.

“Faster,” someone whispers. “It won’t be here forever.” I recognize the voice. This is the first time he’s appeared in one of my dreams.

“I am going faster,” I reply to Nick, who is now walking beside me. “But the grass is too tall.”

“It’s not the grass that’s slowing you.” When I look down, I am standing knee-deep in the middle of a lagoon. Cattails, ferns, and water lilies cover the four banks that surround me.

“It’s getting deeper,” I say and stop walking, grateful to finally have someone to talk to. “What next?”

Nick puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me away from him. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

“It’s not him.” It’s a new voice now. “Not Nick.”

Someone from the shore throws me a white life ring. It easily slips over my head. “Just hold on and I’ll pull you in,” the new voice calls. I hold on with both hands. My fingers must be wrinkled and pruny by now. One minute, the water was knee-deep, and the next it’s over my head. I don’t even know which direction to swim. So I tread water. I pant, knowing it has been too long and relieved that the life ring was offered by the formless, faceless stranger. I am dragged to a set of cement stairs leading up and out of the mossy lake. When I reach the top, I don’t cough or sputter because I am not short of breath or injured in any way. In fact, my heart is light, my mind is alert. I have never felt better.

The last of March’s winter melted from the tree branches. Not quite full-on spring yet, but the excitement of newness and rebirth and change was definitely on the horizon. I wheeled my office chair to the mouth of my cube entrance, so I could look out the walls of windows. The morning sky was gray and dull—not matching my mood.

Nick cracked a joke and I laughed. It wasn’t the funniest pun around, but he was a sweet guy and deserved a girl to laugh. We were on the phone confirming plans. Tonight, his flight would land at SFO at 7:00 p.m.

Weird how things could just…work out. Nick was buddies with Oliver, and he’d be crashing at Oliver’s place over the long weekend. But Nick wasn’t coming to San Francisco to hang out with his college buddy. He was coming for me.

The morning after Meghan’s accident in Pasadena, he left for Dallas alone. With so much on my mind, I couldn’t remember saying good-bye to him. Two days later he called.

And fairly regularly after that for the next two months.

He was smart and he made me laugh and I felt good when I thought about him. Without much of an effort on my part, he was growing on me, wrapping around my limbs like ivy. With no other weeds in my garden as competition, I’d become his willing post.

Oliver and I never had that talk. Why should I bother? Krikit was right. I needed to forgive myself for childish mistakes and move on—the mistake of
lying
to him, not of breaking up. He’d stayed in Pasadena until the end of the week. One night at the hotel, he tried to get me alone, but I had no intention of hearing about his big plans to squander his future. It was
his
life.

Meghan’s injury wasn’t too serious, though serious enough to keep her in Ryan’s bedroom after she was released from her overnight stay at the ER. Ryan managed to drill it into her impressionable head that it was her dietary lifestyle that caused her body to go into shock and not properly absorb the stun of the fall into the water. Despite his doting bedside manner and overwhelming devotion toward his patient, our friends in San Francisco were surprised when word traveled north that they were in love. Though I already knew—Meghan could never keep even the smallest details a secret from me.

“You should see her now.” Nick chuckled. “I didn’t know her very well before, but from what you’ve told me, she’s a changed woman.”

I twirled the phone cord around one finger. “I know.” I laughed back. “Whenever I talk to Megs, it’s all about macrobiotic and fiber and whatever scientific study Ryan’s working on. She sounds so…calm.” I slumped in my seat as Bruce stomped past my cubical, trailed by a string of his expletives.

His lurking and stomping and swearing didn’t bother me as much as it usually did. Maybe because I’d heard back from three of the companies I’d sent resumes to. I’d also written a few more short stories to go with my tale of the running trail. I might just have a series on my hands. I now had options I hadn’t had before. And that was empowering.

“Megs is playing this role pretty close to the vest,” I continued to Nick, “but I can tell she’s never been happier.”

“Ryan, too.” There was a smile in Nick’s voice. I could picture it. Such a nice smile.

“I have to go now. See you tonight.”

“Yes, you will.” That smile again.

I smoothed down my collar, then slid on some of Gio’s jangly bracelets to complete my outfit. Nick would be here any minute. I didn’t try to stifle the flutter this thought caused. I relished it.

“Hey, Trouble,” Roger said with a big smile, his shoulder propped against my open bedroom door.

“Hey, Double.”

“So, how does this work?” He crossed his arms. “Do I answer the door when he knocks or make myself scarce? I don’t have a shotgun, but I can improvise.”

“Funny. Stay and meet him. You should.”

He leaned against my dresser. “Is it serious? I thought you two were just talking on the phone.”

I caught his reflected eye in the mirror. “We’re talking seriously.”

Roger chuckled. “Got it. Do you want me to stay out of the apartment tonight?”

“We’re not coming back here to…if that’s what you mean.” I tried not to feel completely mortified by talking about the subject with my brother. “We’re going to dinner then he’s bringing me home and staying at Oliver’s.”

Roger’s eyebrows shot up. “Oliver Wentworth? That’s where your boyfriend is staying?”

I toyed with my bracelets, fixated on the word
boyfriend
. It was way too early for that label, but it did sound nice for future reference. “Yes.”

“Awkward.”

I eyed his reflection, not needing to ask him why. Roger was privy to enough of our history to know it was going to be horribly awkward for me, thank you. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction to tease me about it. Plus, I was a grown-up, dang it.

He dipped his chin and chuckled.

“Don’t be a doodoohead,” I said. “Nick’s known Oliver way longer than he’s known me. There’s nothing awkward.”

Roger did stop laughing, slid his hands in his pockets, and looked at the floor. “Listen, Rach, there’s something you should know. A few months ago, I ran into him—Wentworth.”

This was not news to me. “At Tim Olson’s party the night I was stuck at work.” I exhaled, completely unaffected. “I know.”

“Before then. I knew he was here before you moved back. I knew he was hanging out with Meghan.”

I pushed out a dark chuckle, recalling that
extremely
awkward scene on the jogging trail, me loafing on the grass with crazy hair and zombie-girl makeup, being completely blindsided at the sight of my gorgeous ex.

“Gee, Roger, a little warning back then might’ve been nice.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I left you a voicemail about it, but I should’ve followed up with you.”

“Oh.” My mind flashed to that second, “Rach, we have to talk,” moment. “I got your voicemail, but I thought I’d hallucinated that part of the message so I deleted it.”

“Do you often hallucinate voicemails?”

“I think you’re missing the point.”

He sighed and sat on the edge of my bed. “He’s not a bad guy.”

“He wasn’t a bad guy in college, either. You barely got to know him.” I whirled around, the past falling in on me before I could stop it. “One dinner and your mind was made up that he wasn’t good enough for me.”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you did, when you showed up at my dorm the next morning.”

He shook his head. “You’re rewriting history, Rach. I never said that because I never thought that about him. I was worried about you.”

I didn’t want to rehash this. Not tonight.

“But I was even more worried afterward,” my brother said. “You were a mess.”

Well, it was nice to know someone actually noticed.

“I blamed myself for a long time.”

The words, “Good—you should!” sat on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t speak them because they weren’t true. I closed my eyes and sighed, then sat beside him, pushing back memories, reeling them in again.

“It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t handle things well back then. I had this…hang-up.” I laughed darkly, remembering how I’d yelled at Oliver in the middle of the color run. “Apparently, I’ve
still
got it. But I didn’t know how to talk to Oliver about it. Instead, I ignored it and kept falling in love with him.”

Roger shifted on the bed. He didn’t want to rehash this, either, but the time had come.

“It was always there, though, the fear that he wasn’t right for me in the long run. When I was with him, I couldn’t balance our relationship with my goals. You remember how close I came to failing that semester?”

Roger nodded. “But you got back on track. You’ve always been a planner.”

“Yeah. My romantic downfall.” I shook my head. “I knew it would come to a head the night you two met, when we had dinner.”

“I was an asshole, way too overprotective. Sorry. I didn’t dislike
him
, but you were nineteen.”

“I know. Believe me, there wasn’t a single worry you had that I hadn’t already obsessed over. But yeah, I was nineteen and I loved him and ninety percent of me wanted to be with him, but it was the nagging ten percent that made the decision.”

“You didn’t tell him why?”

“No.” I rubbed my nose. “Instead, I kind of threw you under the bus.”

“Me?”

“It was easier to say you wouldn’t allow me to date him, so I lied about the whole thing, blamed you for it—right to his face like a damn coward.” I broke off when my throat grew thick.

Roger stared at the floor for a moment, scratched his head, and laughed. “No wonder. That night I ran into him at the party, I got the impression he didn’t trust me, kinda hated me.”

“I’m sorry. Oliver’s got a long memory, too.”

“I kept catching him staring at me. When I finally realized who he was, I went up to him.”

“You didn’t.” The back of my scalp shivered. “What did he say?”

He shrugged and rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. We just talked for a minute.”

“Again, Rog, it would’ve been nice if you’d told your sister.”

“Guys don’t share every nuance of information like women do.” He shrugged again. “It was no big deal. We talked it out.”

“Talked it out?” I repeated. “What did you say? How did he look? Did my name come up?” I jumped when there was a knock on the front door. Nick. Shit.

No, no, I should
not
have allowed my thoughts to stray down the Oliver road. Nick was here. Yes, good. Nick with the great hair, who paid attention to me and liked me and had a job he loved. I was happy to see him—I was ready to see him. So ready.

“I’m glad things are cool with you guys now.” I rose to my feet, dabbed vanilla oil along my collarbones, and grabbed my jacket. “But Oliver’s not who flew four hundred miles to spend the weekend with me.”

When I pulled open the door, a rush of relief hit. Nick looked better than ever. Very Brad Pitt a la
A River Runs Through It
. I quickly introduced him to Roger at the door, but didn’t want to linger. I couldn’t erase the picture of my brother and my ex “talking it out.”

The moment we were outside the closed door, Nick spun around and wrapped me up in a hug. “I have to imagine this every time we talk on the phone.”

I hugged him back. It felt nice.

He spoke into my hair. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” His body was warm and he smelled of aftershave I couldn’t place. “You?”

“I’m happy I’m here, Rachel.” He gave me a squeeze then let go.

“Me, too. You look hungry.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You are the queen of subtext.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, keeping his cheek pressed to mine for a moment after. “I’m very hungry, but not for food.” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and I couldn’t help exhaling a silly giggle. “Well, you asked.” He drew back and looked into my eyes.

We were healthy adults, obviously attracted to one another, and we’d been chatting on the phone for two months. What would have happened right then if Roger hadn’t been on the other side of the door?

“We should, um…” I nodded toward the street. “Reservations in twenty.”

Nick lifted a grin. “Okay. I’m pretty jet lagged, anyway.”

…

Beside the overnight sporting events for his job, Nick hadn’t visited San Francisco since he was a kid. The next day, he wanted to see Fisherman’s Wharf—a place I’d described to him many times over the phone. We walked around all day, in and out of cafés and shops and bookstores, even Ghirardelli Chocolate Company, Meghan’s favorite, a sort of a fond
aide-memoire
to our friend.

The pear trees and dogwoods were beginning to bloom after a long winter of bare branches and crunchy leaves. At the start of the day, Nick scooped up my hand in his, which felt strange at first, but as the day progressed into evening, it was as easy as our conversation.

But conversation could take a girl only so far.

I was restless and stirred up, and I’d been stirred up for weeks—since Pasadena. Nick had barely touched me when he’d dropped me off last night. My body felt like a genie’s lamp, needing a good rubdown, or like a cat’s scratching post. And Nick was right there.

“Do you know what I like about you?” he asked when we stopped to lean over a stony footbridge, twinkle lights reflecting in the water.

“My sparkling wit?”

His hand slid to the small of my back, his shoulder against mine. He smiled at my reflection in the water below. “I can read everything on your face.”