Before, There Was You

by Kit Harlow

  “Right…never mind. Forget I asked,” she said with a sad smile.

  “I’m flattered,” I stammered. “But—”

  She winced. “I misread. You’re straight or I’m not your type, right?”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m married,” I said gently.

  “Oh,” she said, running her hand through her hair. “Right…well, this is awkward. Way to go, Steph. Make the new girl uncomfortable on her first day,” she chided.

  I chuckled. “It’s fine. If you’d asked me out five years ago, I probably would have said yes before you could get the question out if that’s any consolation.”

  Now Stephanie blushed. “Well, that’s something at least.”

  She shrugged and turned on her heel. I followed after her.

  “Look, I don’t have many friends here yet.” I thought about it for a moment. “Okay, that’s a lie. I don’t have any friends out here yet. How about we forgo dinner and instead grab coffee tomorrow after work? I could use the company and it would be refreshing to talk to another creative. My husband’s wonderful, but he’s about as creative as a doorknob.”

  Steph smirked, but nodded. “That I can do.”

  I smiled sincerely. “Great!” I grabbed my notepad. “Now I have to go pretend that I know what I’m doing and talk to Nate about shooting at my next assignment.”

  “I think I saw him leave for the day, but it never hurts to check. He typically takes half an hour to actually leave the office. But, be careful. Katie’s back and she’s in full on bitch mode,” she warned.

  “Thanks for the warning,” I whispered and started past her, heading towards the doorway.

  With that, she headed down the hallway and I turned towards Nate’s office wondering what the assignment would be like.

  The door was cracked. I knocked and was greeted by a woman’s voice. Quietly, I opened the door and hovered, glancing at Nate’s empty desk.

  “Is Nate gone for the day?” I asked.

  “He just left.” The woman finally turned around. “Maybe I can help,” she said politely, though her distracted tone suggested she’d rather get back to work. Still, it was nothing like the bitch mode Stephanie warned me about.

  “You’re new here, right? I’m Kate,” she said, standing up to make her introduction.

  My heart sank as I came face to face with the last person I’d ever expected to see again.

  Her eyes went wide as they adjusted to the dim light away from her computer screen. “Liz?” she asked in disbelief. Her arms immediately crossed in front of her. It was one of her oldest tells. She was just as uncomfortable as I was and about to go on the defense.

  “Katie,” I acknowledged. We stood in silence for what felt like eternity. It took everything I had in me to unclench my jaw and at least pretend to be relaxed and confident.

  I kept my hands in my pockets and took in her appearance. She looked the same as I remembered. Her feet were still shod in the tired Doc Martens I remembered from college, trademark yellow stitching faded from years of abuse.

  Her jeans were fitted and hugged her thighs tightly, leaving little to the imagination. I did my best to shove the memory of how her hips felt beneath my hands from memory. The smooth curve of her waist was draped by the jagged edge of a vintage Led Zeppelin shirt I’d gotten her as a birthday gift our first year out of college.

  Soft curls of dark auburn hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back—they were natural and the envy of pretty much every woman Katie ever encountered. Glasses sat on the top of her head—the same tortoise shell secretary frames I’d come to associate with Katie. In all the years I’d known her, her style remained unchanged. She was confident in herself and never felt the need to change the way she dressed even in a professional role. Though she looked precisely as I remembered, the coldness in her eyes was different.

  “You were in New York,” I said more sharply than I’d intended.

  Katie tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Years ago,” she snarled. “Last I heard, you were planning on moving to San Francisco.”

  I drew a shaky breath. “My plans changed,” I replied shortly.

  She looked away. “So did mine,” she said softly. There was sadness in her voice that made my heart seize and tears prick my eyes. The silence hung heavily between us. She wasn’t blaming me, but I felt the blame nonetheless.

  I stood there awkwardly. “I had no idea that you worked here,” I whispered. It was the only defense I had. If I’d known she was a staff photographer here, I never would have applied. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have moved to the city at all. And Katie could tell all that judging by her expression.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” she asked bitterly. She pulled her glasses back down on her face and glared. It was something I’d witnessed many times, but I’d never been on the receiving end of the glare.

  “Only if you make it one,” I replied sharply. I was pushing her buttons and part of me wanted the reaction, a reason to fight. If she was civil, I would have to be too. The thought of working with Katie, the woman I’d once called my friend, my lover, was the last thing I ever wanted and at the moment, I couldn’t stand the reality.

  She sighed and rocked back and forth on her heels. “James said he’d hired another Smithie. I never imagined it would be you.”

  I grimaced. “Why? Because I’m not good enough?”

  Katie closed her eyes. “No,” she said patiently. “Because you wanted to be an author. Not a blogger. Hell, the profession didn’t even exist back then!”

  “Yeah, well, things change and if you can’t change with the times, change your attitude.”

  She smirked slightly. It was our motto back in the day. We’d both done stints as lowly retail workers before ever getting even an unpaid internship in our fields. We made a decision to roll with the punches and work to find the good things in our lives even when pursuing our dreams felt like a hopeless quest.

  She looked at me and I immediately looked away. I hated that she was being polite. I wanted to scream at her.

  “So,” she said, leaning against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. “What have you been up to all these years?” Her tone was kind—shocking given the way we’d left things. I wanted to respond as if nothing had happened, but I didn’t have it in me. I was still mad.

  I followed suit and leaned against Nate’s desk, trying to ignore the way my knees shook. A thousand witty retorts flitted across my brain, but I settled for vague.

  “Just living life,” I said blandly. “You?”

  She gestured at the room around her. “This is pretty much it,” she said with a slight grin. “I uh…” she paused for a second and laughed a little. “I hit a bunch of snags and somehow managed to get the job here. That was,” she glanced up at the ceiling, “four years ago.”

  I nodded, shocked that we hadn’t yelled yet. To be honest, she seemed almost happy to see me.

  “It’s good to see you,” she added softly, almost as if hearing my thoughts. She scuffed her toe along the worn carpet by her desk, still studying my face with a curiosity I was desperate to avoid.

  “Don’t,” I warned. I watched as she nodded and turned her attention to her shoes.

  “Why not San Francisco?” she asked, almost desperate to keep the conversation going. I wanted nothing more than to walk out of there, but I found myself unable to move.

  San Francisco had been my way of retaliating. Katie had moved to New York and all I wanted to do was move to the other side of the country as far away from her as possible. I had everything lined up, a job, an apartment…but when the time came to take the leap, I chickened out.

  I shrugged. “Life,” I lied. “I got a job at the Advocate and everything else just kind of faded. I was too busy. And San Francisco is expensive…”

  She chuckled and the sound made my heart race in my chest. “So you came to Boston?”

  I sighed, frustrated—mostly at how nervous she was making me. “Yeah, well, believe it
or not, rent is cheaper here.” I did my best to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants without her noticing. She did anyway.

  “How long were you in New York?” I asked, switching the focus back to her.

  “A little over a year. The gallery lost funding for the position, so I had to find something else to do. I ended up waitressing for a bit before moving to Hadley with Em,” she said. Emily was her younger sister and someone I used to consider my friend.

  I leaned forward. “You were in Hadley?” We’d been so close and the realization hit me that all the times I thought I saw Katie in a crowd might have actually been true. Surely, she’d seen me at some point. Why didn’t she say something, I wondered?

  “I wasn’t there long.” She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “Too many memories,” she said sadly.

  I nodded in agreement and looked away. I didn’t want to find out what I’d see in her eyes. I ran my hand through my hair uncomfortably aware of how frumpy I looked.

  Katie’s eyes were fixed on my left hand. My ring must have caught the light. I fought the odd urge to hide my hand in my pocket. Suddenly, my marriage status felt like an embarrassment.

  “What’s her name?” Her tone was surprisingly devoid of emotion, but the tightness in her jaw told me just how on edge she was.

  My heart started pounding and I felt my nails bite into my palms as I curled my hands into fists. It was an innocent enough question, I suppose, but it may as well have been an interrogation. I wanted to run, to avoid this conversation entirely. Instead I squared my shoulders, looked her in the eye, and produced my most contented smile.

  “David.” I used his name like a shield between us. “His name is David.”

  She laughed. “Wow. So I guess the whole gay thing was an act for you, huh?”

  In an instant, all the nerves and sadness were gone. “Fuck you,” I hissed. She rolled her eyes and I snapped. “I wasn’t the one who left, Katie.”

  Without waiting for a response or seeing what her reaction was, I spun on my heel and walked away. I headed down the hallway back to my desk, moving like a woman on a mission. I was on a mission—I needed to get out of here. I needed air. I hastily packed up my things and made my way to the elevator as casually as I could, pausing to nod goodbye to the few coworkers that were still in the office.

  My heart was racing from a combination of adrenaline and anger as I waited for the world’s slowest elevator to reach my floor. The cables strained audibly and if I knew where the staircase was, I would have run to it happily.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall behind me. I didn’t turn around. I’d had my fill of meeting new people for the day. Hell, I was willing to call it all off, move back to Northampton, and continue working on my small portfolio from there. Anything would be better than sharing an employer with the one person in the world I couldn’t stand being around.

  “Lizzie,” the familiar voice said from over my shoulder.

  I closed my eyes. “What?” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but if there was one thing I could always rely on, it was Katie’s ability to bring out the best or worst in me. I heard her heave a sigh.

  “Will you look at me?” her voice was tight with what sounded, to my memory, like emotion.

  I grudgingly turned around and met her gaze, lips pursed and tongue firmly bitten.

  Her eyes darted back and forth as she studied my face before working up the courage to look me in the eyes. She used to tell me that they reminded her of a winter sky just before a snowstorm. I cringed inwardly, hating that I remembered so much so vividly.

  “Can we please be civil?” she asked quietly.

  “You started this,” I said bitterly.

  “I know and I’m sorry. You deserve to be happy.” She paused and took a deep breath. “We deserve to be happy,” she begged.

  I laughed bitterly. “We were happy, Katie,” I shouted, catching her off guard. Her lips turned downward in a slight frown.

  “You were the one who decided to leave. You were the one who broke my heart. So, civility? Fine. That I can handle, but don’t ever talk to me like you know me. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

  “Right,” she snarled. “Because six years isn’t enough time to get to know you.”

  “Not when you walk away, it isn’t,” I snapped.

  She grimaced. “Bullshit. I know everything there is to know about you.”

  “Because you care so much.”

  She reached for my wrist as I started to turn away. “I know you despise sitting still at a desk for hours on end. You prefer to pace while you work. You used to drive the neighbors crazy with it! I know you can’t start your day off without a cup of coffee, no matter how bad the coffee is.” She sighed heavily. “I know that you had dreams that were far grander than this and judging by the way your shoulders are set, you’ve given up on them completely. The Liz I know—” she started.

  I rolled my eyes and planted my feet. “That’s just it,” I shouted, “I’m not the Liz you knew. You lost that girl the moment you closed the door of our apartment. I’ve changed,” I snarled.

  “Clearly,” she snapped.

  “Fuck you!” I said louder than I’d meant to, but it was enough to check my emotions. I stared at the ceiling, ever aware of Katie’s eyes on my face. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to slow my breathing.

  “Let’s just pretend that we don’t know each other and do our best to avoid one another.”

  She glared. “We do know each other,” she barked.

  “Just leave me alone,” I stated bitterly.

  Kate took a step closer to me. “I can’t. We work together. I’m the lead entertainment photographer. You have to deal with me.”

  “And what if I don’t want to?” I growled, not truly caring if someone happened to overhear. As far as I was concerned, my relationship with Katie could be common knowledge. It happened and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Instead, I was pissed.

  Kate’s eyes turned cold. “Then quit now before anyone starts to rely on you. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Quitting?” She glared at me again. “I mean, you threw away six years without a second thought,” she snapped. Her shoulders were tense and I could see the hurt still etched on her face.

  “I wasn’t the one who quit, Kat.” The nickname rolled off my tongue. I hated that it slipped out. “You did. Even when I begged you not to. Don’t you dare blame this on me,” I finished.

  My fists were clenched at my sides and I fought the urge to launch into a well-rehearsed tirade I’d been holding onto for years.

  She stared at me, clearly caught between wanting to say something and not trusting her tongue. We'd always had fiery tempers. It was part of what made our relationship so fun; it was never dull. And to be honest, the makeup sex was fantastic. I felt my cheeks turn red as I thought about our last time and I waited for the next bitter remark. None came. Instead, she bit her lip, thrust her hands in her pockets and stood there.

  We waited in silence until the doors opened. I dashed through them, turned around, and glared at her. I struggled to ignore the emotions there, but couldn’t deny the slight sense of sadness her hazel eyes conveyed. The situation was reversed all those years ago and I felt my heart grow heavy as I confronted our breakup for the first time in years. I knew the anger was etched on my face and as the doors closed, I watched Katie’s shoulders slump.

  The elevator took me down to the lobby where I paused and leaned against the wall. This was not how my first day at my dream firm was supposed to go. I was supposed to walk in, become one of the grunts, work my way up. I wasn’t supposed to immediately face a big pile of unfinished business in the form of my ex-girlfriend.

  I shook my head, adjusted my shoulder bag, and headed through the main doors, closing the chapter on what was the most awkward first day of my professional career.

  Outside, I took deep breath after deep breath, embracing the feel of a breeze on my face. My cheeks were warm and I need
ed to calm down. I struggled to breathe around the lump in my throat and rubbed at my burning eyes. It was a strange sensation—I’d never been angry to the point of tears, but I was close. Perilously close. I chanced a glance up at the building and cringed. Everything I thought I’d just achieved was now in question.

  It was five years ago, but it felt like yesterday.

  Katie hovered at the door of our apartment, duffel bag slung over her shoulder. We hadn’t spoken all day—she’d already made it abundantly clear that the relationship was over. What was the point in begging again? It would just fall on deaf ears.

  I leaned against the back of the couch, facing her. All I wanted was for her to stay, but she was convinced. New York was where she needed to be and I knew the city would swallow me alive.

  Her shoulders rose and fell slowly as she took one deep breath after the other.

  “Please don’t leave,” I whispered. My eyes burned as she looked at me. “I don’t want this.”

  She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Did you ever really love me?” she croaked.

  The tears flowed in earnest. “I still do.”

  She nodded once. “Then come with me.”

  I said nothing—just stared at her. I wanted to remember every inch of her. Every line of her face. The small amount of hope left in her eyes faded and she sighed.

  “It shouldn’t be like this,” she whispered.

  “No, it shouldn’t.” I stopped fighting the tears that spilled down my cheeks. “Please, Kat. Don’t leave. Don’t go.”

  She turned and looked at me. “I have to.” The weight of her words echoed throughout the still air of our home. “I wish this could be different, Lizzie. I wish I mattered enough to you that you would come with me.”

  Anger filled my chest. “You do matter, Kat.”

  She squared her shoulders and closed her eyes. As her hand turned the doorknob, she glanced over her shoulder. “Apparently not enough.”

  With that, she slipped out the door and closed it behind her gently, effectively closing the chapter on the last six years we’d spent together.