These Are the Moments (19 page)

Chapter 49

Now

She walked away with a second cup of coffee. On her computer screen, photographs from previous art programs faded in and out of focus. Donald, from the other room, laughed his obnoxious laugh, like he was trying to choke out food. He’d mentioned something about a Christmas gift he’d forgotten to give her. Then he forked over a fifty.

That’ll work.

Wendy was exhausted, but it was the kind of tired that made her exhilarated. She’d spent all night talking to Simon. Just the way they used to. Except, she was different now.

Wendy was proud of herself. She’d managed to keep a semi-relationship with Simon, and reign in whatever stale emotions lingered behind. She was doing well. She cared about Simon, of course, always would.

But did she love him?
Only a little.

Did she want to be with him?
Not really.

Not much at all.

She tried not to think about it.

“Do you like your job?” he’d asked her. “Like honestly?”

“Yes,” she’d said, her head flat against the pillow. “I mean, it’s a job.”

“But do you
like
it? Do you think it’s something you could see yourself doing for the long haul?”

Law. Logic. That had always been
his
thing. Simon was the one that could twist the truth until it buckled. She couldn’t even lie behind a mask.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Do you like what you’re doing?”

“Sure,” he said. “But I want more.”

“Like?”

“Like I want to start my own company. Like I always said I would. I’m just restless to get that going. I just . . . don’t know if I’m at the right place.”

“You can do it,” she said, completely assured. “I’ve always known you could do it.”

“I guess so,” he said. “I just am constantly looking at numbers and figures and all of these components to this big goal. And in the meantime, I’m losing stock in my own life.”

She knew what he meant. Simon had never been happy in his life, never fully. He had come close. Once. Twice.

“Do you still believe in God?”

She didn’t know why she asked it. There was so much of Simon now that wasn’t a part of Simon then. And she wondered, if this Simon was only just meeting her now, would they have ever happened at all?

Truth? She needed to know if there was any piece of the old Simon left.

“Eh, that’s tricky.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, it’s a nice idea. I never believed in God the way the rest of you did. I wanted the whole blind faith thing. I admired that. I just had a lot of questions.”

“Oh, what a shocker,” she said, laughing to an empty room.

“I’m not really in the God place right now. More like strip clubs. Beer. Flings. That’s the place I’m in.”

Wendy let herself fall asleep after that. Another Simon tactic. Another stick to wave in her face, a way to tell her to
get back, don’t come any closer.
Not for her benefit, of course. Only for his.

Wendy stirred her coffee with the tip of her finger. She hadn’t even started her computer yet.

Do you like your job?

“Hey, Donald?” Wendy called into the next room. “I’m running to lunch. Be back in a bit.”

Typing. More typing. “Great. Mind picking up some stamps?”

“Uh huh,” she said, jingling her keys.

“And cat food?”

She sighed. “Sure thing.”

Wendy stepped into the gallery, painting nestled in the crook of her arm.

“So, tell me about the painting,” Simon had said to her.

“What about it?”

“Well, let’s start with the
what are you painting
question.”

Raven liked to sweep barefoot in the studio, her hair on top of her head, while she brushed this way and that across the tile. She was an incessant sweeper. There was always music playing, too. Some kind of Spanish pop album that played on repeat all day long.

“Oooh, what’ve you got for me?” Raven asked, exchanging the broom for the painting.

Last night, Wendy had told Simon about the series. Delicately, she said, “It just made sense for me to paint something from my life. And painting my way through it, wrapping it together as one sweeping account of my story, well, it just is something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Are you serious? That’s amazing. Wow. Can you do me a favor?”

“Uh . . . sure?”

“Text me pictures.”

Raven scanned her eyes across the canvas, then looked back to Wendy. “What’s the story?”

The painting was a scene from her high school prom, a peacock fixating on its own reflection in a hubcap. No one would know the story. Nobody except the two of them.

“No story,” Wendy said, “Just an image I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“‘You in Every Image,’” Raven read the title aloud, sucking in her cheeks like she was trying to piece it together. She shrugged. “Nice work.”

“Thank you,” Wendy said, handing back the broom. “See you next week.”

“Incredible. These are absolutely incredible,” Simon had said.

It was the first time since they’d started talking again that he seemed himself, that he’d shifted the guard down just the slightest bit.

“Thank you,” she’d said. “It means a lot that you’d say that.”

“You’re really doing this. Being a painter. Going back to all of this.”

“Is this okay with you?”

She didn’t really need his permission, but still, it just felt like the right thing to do. Plus, she genuinely wanted to know. Seeing their story brushed back into existence was strange enough for her. She could only imagine his feelings on it.

“Totally,” he said. “Completely. And hey, if you need any help jogging your memory, I’m available. Maybe I can even write down some ideas of interesting images to paint.”

Collaborating? Were they collaborating now?

“Oh, that would be great,” she found herself saying.

“Okay, and send me whatever you have. I want to see everything.”

“I will keep you posted,” she’d said.

Wendy let herself be excited with Simon for a little while. How many people got to do this? How many people turned their lives into a still life picture album? Painting through their own histories? And Simon being on board only made her want to paint more.

Chapter 50

Then

She was sleep deprived. It was almost four in the morning as she read through her econ notes, which had never made much sense to her, especially now that her stomach was growling and her head had that burning feeling of exhaustion behind her eyes.

Something about supply.

Something about demand.

On Facebook, the only people posting were dealing with similar circumstances, saying things like,
three cups of coffee and two exams to go
and
dear midterms, you suck
.

Reese had fallen asleep hours ago, finished with her exams and planning to sleep until she couldn’t possibly sleep anymore. Then she’d stay in bed and binge watch
Law and Order
.

So Wendy was alone, and she never felt more lonely than the middle of the night when she was stuck studying while the world was sleeping or out drinking without her. It was the type of lonely that she knew would fade by morning, but when she was in the throes of it, it consumed her. This loneliness was all she could think about, so she got a little desperate and a little stupid and next thing she knew.

She emailed Simon.

He’d been online for hours. She’d periodically peek at the green check beside his name, wondering if he was really there or if it was Lizzie or maybe just his computer running on and on while he slept next to her.

She regretted the message instantly, of course. Still, she hovered for an answer.

SGuidry4: Hey.

That’s when it hit her. Simon was on the other end of this.

WendyLake3: How are you?

SGuidry4: Eh. Exhausted. Working on this project and trying to study for midterms. What are you doing awake?

It was strange how they could fall into a conversation, as if they’d mutually agreed to ignore the years between them, pretending this was something they did all the time.

WendyLake3: Econ midterm.

SGuidry4: Econ, huh? Are you a business major?

WendyLake3: Double major. Art and Business. Seemed like a good idea in theory. Ha.

SGuidry4: Trade you for chemical engineering.

WendyLake3: I think I’ll pass, thanks.

They talked back and forth like this for a bit. She told him about Claudia turning 13, how Mom and Dad were doing, about her award in last year’s art show. He told her about school, how he worked in a lab, how his family was okay, not great, but okay. And with new knowledge of his new life, she could picture it in her head: him walking into his apartment, him curled over a laptop working, and all the images of Simon she’d blocked out for so long.

SGuidry4: You looked like you were having fun at bus trip.

She didn’t want to get into that, but she couldn’t help answering.

WendyLake3: Oh yeah? I’m sure you noticed.

SGuidry4: What do you mean?

WendyLake3: Oh, come on. The staring? The talking to me? Figures you don’t remember.

SGuidry4: Yeahhhhhh. About that. I was super drunk. Let’s just say that did not go over well with Lizzie.

WendyLake3: I’ll bet. She didn’t look particularly pleased.

Wendy got a twisted enjoyment about this. It wasn’t that she wanted Lizzie to be upset. She liked Lizzie. It was more that she liked the idea of Simon getting in trouble, of him having some semblance of consequence.

SGuidry4: So, I’ll tell you this. Because it’s us, and I know you won’t say anything.

Because it’s us.

Three little words that seem to sum up every skewed emotion she was experiencing.

SGuidry4: So, allegedly, in my drunken state, I decided it was a good decision to confess all of my, uhh, feelings about/for you to Lizzie.

Wendy got to her feet.

What am I doing? This is absolutely insane
.

She set her laptop on the kitchen counter.

WendyLake3: Oh. Wow.

SGuidry4: Yeah. Not good.

WendyLake3: What did you . . . say, exactly?

He typed, then paused, then typed again.

SGuidry4: It was late. And it was dark. And when she walked into the bedroom…

WendyLake3: Spare me the details, please.

SGuidry4: Trust me, it’s not where you think it’s going. I may or may not have called her by your name.

Wendy wanted to wake up Reese. She wanted to call Mom. She wanted to turn on the faucet and run her head under the freezing cold water.

What did this mean?

Simon said her name. Instead of his girlfriend’s. That was not nothing.

SGuidry4: She chocked it up to alcohol. But there was definite fighting. I’m also no longer allowed to drink if you’re anywhere around.

WendyLake3: Tight leash from here on out, I assume?

At Monday’s chapter meeting, Lizzie had made a point to cross the room say hello. She’d asked about Wendy’s weekend and whether or not she’d had fun at bus trip and apologized for not getting to hang out more.

Keep your friends close.

Keep your boyfriend’s ex much closer.

SGuidry4: Yeah. Let’s just say this little conversation we’re having is probably exactly what she’s afraid of.

Then why are we having it?

SGuidry4: She’s actually sleeping in the other room right now.

This was the last thing Wendy wanted to imagine. Simon holding Lizzie in his arms, falling asleep and waking up together, the way he and Wendy had always dreamed about.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

WendyLake3: God. What are we doing here?

She wasn’t supposed to ask this question. It broke their code, bringing the situation to light. She sucked in a gulp of air, waiting on his answer.

SGuidry4: I don’t know. I like catching up though. I’ve come really close to texting you a few times. So I had Owen delete your number.

WendyLake3: You thought about texting me? Why?

He has a girlfriend,
she reminded herself,
who is sleeping in the other room.

SGuidry4: Yeah. I’m not gonna lie; I begged Owen for your number a few times. Even Lizzie once, I think. I wanted to talk to you. Probably for the same reasons you want to talk to me.

A couple of hours later, Wendy was back to the couch, relaxed. A glass of water and a glass of wine beside her, she’d convinced herself that she would not be hurt when this conversation inevitably ended. She would be okay with letting him go. She could go back, because she didn’t have any choice.

WendyLake3: You know, it’s weird, seeing you around after so long.

SGuidry4: I know. I would’ve come around sooner, but you know, you said you didn’t want to see me.

WendyLake3: When did I say that?

SGuidry4: To Reese. Remember?

WendyLake3: Oh. Yeah. Well, there are reasons for that.

And she felt herself hardening again, the anger surfacing under the novelty of the night.

SGuidry4: You had every right.

WendyLake3: Yeah. I still kind of hate you, a pretty good bit.

SGuidry4: Don’t blame you for that. Not even a little.

WendyLake3: Good.

SGuidry4: Good.

And she just had to say it.

WendyLake3: So, you and Lizzie.

SGuidry4: Yeah. It is what it is.

WendyLake3: What do you mean?

SGuidry4: I mean, it’s the way all of my relationships go. Except you, of course. She’s good. She’s nice. She’s whatever. But if I’m honest? To me, she’s just a girl. To her, it’s different. I am to her what you are to me.

Wendy buckled.

She set aside the laptop and buried her head under the pillow. He couldn’t say this to her. He couldn’t make her feel like this again.

She took the laptop back.

WendyLake3: Wow. That’s a pretty big deal.

SGuidry4: Yeah, it is. Very intense. She’s already got everything figured out, right down to when I can propose.

Propose, propose, propose.

The word popped like fireworks in her head.

This isn’t happening.

He’s not getting married.

This isn’t real.

WendyLake3: Wait . . . y’all are talking about marriage? Already?

SGuidry4: I know, right? It’s crazy.

She felt like she’d swallowed her own tongue.

WendyLake3: When?

But she knew the answer.

Lizzie would want a sorority candle passing, which meant . . . next year, at the latest. Lizzie would call for the ritual, and they’d pass her ring around on a candle in a darkened chapter room. When she blew out the candle, everyone would clap and congratulate her. And Wendy would be there, listening to the
how it happened
story. Wendy would die silently in the wedding wake.

SGuidry4: Before she graduates.

Wendy didn’t think. She just typed.

WendyLake3: You can’t get married.

SGuidry4: When? Ever? Or just in the next few years?

Her hands shaking over the keyboard

WendyLake3: At least. Look, as someone who knows you, as a friend, you’re going to regret it. It’s too young. It’s too . . . fast.

He couldn’t get married.

SGuidry4: Okay. How about as someone who knows me . . . not as a friend?

Wendy didn’t know how to answer. Was she asking him to wait because he was actually something she wanted? Or was she just being selfish? She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. It was like asking to shove two years of built-up feeling, disconnection and scraping-herself-off-her-knees into one sentence.

WendyLake3: I don’t know. I can’t say for sure. And I’m not . . . asking for anything. But I guess. Truth? You’ve always been so . . . possible, for me. I’m not ready to let go of the possibility. Not just yet.

SGuidry4: Truth?

WendyLake3: Truth.

SGuidry4: For me, I know that I fell in love a long time ago. I haven’t forgotten.