Before, There Was You

by Kit Harlow

  Further down the street, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking between worlds, between my past and my present. Everywhere I looked, I saw Kate. Nothing would allow me to escape her. Her ghost was following me, reminding me of my own failings, chiding me for living a lie.

  I opened the door to my apartment; the lights were all off and it was silent. David wasn't home. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was the last person I wanted to see today. All I wanted was to spend the night in silence, interacting with no one, speaking to no one. It was a good plan, a reasonable plan, but I was still at a loss. I couldn't put Katie out of my mind. She had been on my thoughts all day, every day. I was miserable and hated David. I hated myself for staying with him, for being a coward, for thinking I could be happy with him again when our entire past felt like a charade—an act built on the premise of me wanting nothing more than to blend in.

  We'd arranged the apartment exactly the way it had been for years. It felt like a movie set, trapped in another time that people could watch to see what not to do. I think David hoped it would allow us to forget Boston, but it made me feel trapped, like Boston was a dream—a product of my personal hopes and aspirations. This was not home anymore. And David, while he was still being himself, seemed strained, like he was trying too hard to make things as they had been.

  I sat on the couch in the darkness and let the day catch up with me. Tears fell and I welcomed them. The emotion felt too raw. I curled around a throw pillow and buried my face in it. It was cathartic. I cried until I had no more tears, until I felt like an empty shell of a person. When I looked up, I realized that my life had become nothing more than a lie, a charade I'd accepted in favor of a seemingly simpler reality.

  Chapter 20

  The weekend finally came. I was blissfully free of assignments and David was out on a weekend-long field trip with a few chosen students. The apartment was mine and I was alone. I woke without having to plaster a fake smile on my face and made myself a pot of coffee, content to settle in a blanket on the balcony and watch the world pass me by.

  Halfway into my second cup of coffee, there was a loud knock on my door. With a sigh, I got up and answered it, expecting it to be my neighbor asking if I’d seen her cat. Said cat had taken to lounging on our fire escape lately. I opened the door and was greeted by a bag of my favorite donuts and a shock of pink hair.

  “Hey, you!” Steph said gently.

  I practically threw my mug on the side table and engulfed her in a hug.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, fighting against the lump in my throat. I’d missed her so much.

  Stephanie smiled. “I’m here to check on you. We’re worried, Lizzie.”

  I invited her in and offered her a cup of coffee, which she accepted. Steph looked around my apartment, taking in the furniture and the structure with a bemused expression on her face.

  “How are you?” she asked, taking the cup of coffee out of my hand excitedly.

  I shrugged. “Getting by. How are you?”

  She gave me a look and didn’t answer my question. “Liz, you have bags under your eyes. Your ashtray out front is full and I know you weren’t a smoker in Boston. Really, how are you?”

  “Can’t we just catch up like normal people?” I asked with a sad smile. She shook her head and waited. I walked over to the couch and sat heavily. “I wake up and am honestly surprised when I’m still breathing. I can’t seem to break out of the cycle,” I said against the stinging in my eyes.

  Steph walked over to me and sighed. “If it’s any consolation, Katie’s just as unhappy,” she said, sitting next to me.

  “It’s not, really. I wanted her to be happy.”

  “Liz,” she started. “I’ve worked with her for four years and have seen her happy exactly once. And that was when she was with you.”

  The guilt I felt was overwhelming.

  “Come home,” she begged.

  I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “I can’t.”

  “You can. And you should.” She rested a hand on my thigh. “Come back to Boston. Please.”

  I swallowed. “Did you come out here just to ask me that?”

  “I came to see my friend.” She stared at me. “The fact that I’m begging you to come home is just part of the deal. I miss you. So does Nate. And Katie…well, I think you can guess how she’s feeling since you’re so happy yourself.”

  I cringed.

  “You don’t belong here. This was you two years ago, but a lot of things have changed. You belong in Boston. You’re miserable, Liz.”

  I sighed and stared at the coffee table. She was right, but I couldn’t leave. I’d made my choice and I’d have to live with it.

  “Give me an update. How are things at home?” I asked, changing the subject quickly.

  Steph sighed, feeling defeated. “They’re good. Busy, but good. Two people have tried to take over for you and both of them have left. They weren’t a good fit and couldn’t keep up with deadlines. James was losing his mind trying to get them up to speed before he finally just fired them. He’d give you your job back in a heartbeat.”

  The temptation was real. Still, I’d made my choice. “That’s shitty. Who’s covering it now?”

  Steph grimaced. “Katie and I are splitting the job. She’s doing all right and I’ve gotten pretty good at mimicking your tone.” She rubbed at her hair. “Still, I’d much rather focus on graphic design, so please come back. I don’t want to do your job.”

  I paused. “Katie’s covering the column?” It was all I heard.

  Steph sighed and forced a sad smile. “She can write, you know. But I think it’s taking a toll on her. She’s not really talking to anyone right now,” she rubbed at her hair, “and I think filling your shoes is harder than she ever expected—emotionally, that is.”

  I stared at my coffee mug. “James never should have made her,” I said angrily.

  Steph bit her lip. “He didn’t. She volunteered, saying she could sound like you in her sleep. She’s not wrong either,” she said softly.

  I buried my face in my hands and struggled not to lose it in front of one of my only remaining friends.

  Steph put her mug on the table and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay to be upset, Liz,” she said gently. “But you have to be willing to do something about it.”

  I stared at my hands in my lap, wanting to say something, but not sure what to say in the first place.

  “Just think about it, please?” Steph begged. “I hate seeing you like this. It’s been months.”

  I nodded. “I’ll think about it. I promise.” It was all I could say that wouldn’t result in her making further demands.

  Steph smiled, but the look in her eyes showed that she didn’t believe me. “Well, regardless, you’ll have to come back for our Halloween party. Nate and I are cohosting and it promises to be quite the gathering.”

  I forced a laugh. “I’ll be there.”

  ◆◆◆

  I stared at the calendar pinned to the wall next to my desk and sighed. Had I really been working at the Advocate again for three months? When had that happened?

  The article on the screen sat half-written and I was out of words. My inspiration was in short supply these days. It’s not like there was much to report in our sleepy little town anyway. With a sigh, I pulled up my old column at The Wire and browsed through the latest headlines. Steph had been right. Katie sounded like me and it made my gut twist in agony.

  With a sigh, I minimized the browser and went back to staring at my lackluster article. My fingers hovered over the keyboard and my eyes closed as I tried to let the words flow through my fingertips. Nothing came.

  A swift knock on my desk drew me out of my concentration. “Bill wants to see you,” Stephen, our lead sports writer, said gently. “He’s in a mood today. Good luck.”

  I grimaced. “Thanks.”

  With a groan, I pushed myself up from my desk and made the trek down the boring white hallway. Much of the staff
was intimidated by our editor in chief. I, on the other hand, had known him far too long to be intimidated by the man. I knocked once on the doorframe and slipped into his office without waiting for an invitation.

  Billy's office was absolutely frigid even though it was the middle of October and the fall weather had finally set in. The rest of us preferred our cozy and heated cubicles. He always liked things on the chilly side, and in my absence, I'd forgotten to keep a stash of sweaters in my desk drawer. Behind his desk, he stretched and yawned. It had been a slow week. Our biggest story was the grand opening of the new art exhibit at Smith’s museum and I was trying to stay optimistic about my career not tanking.

  He leaned forward and fixed a sincere stare at me. "We need to talk," he leveled.

  With Billy, that could mean any number of things. I leaned back in my chair, ready for another epically long speech about some unknown topic he had recently become obsessed with.

  He folded his hands and sighed. "What are you doing here?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked, immediately going on the defensive.

  "You have a reputation in Boston! You have readers! Why the hell are you back here working for me?" Billy scowled, making his mop of blond curls flip forward over his eyes. He brushed them aside absently, waiting for me to answer.

  "You know why," I said, laughing. "We missed the Valley. We needed to move back." I smiled, hoping he wouldn't see through my lie.

  He did. He knew me too well, and the pitying glance was enough to dissolve my smile. "Liz," he started. "Why did you move back?"

  I sighed. This was David's best friend. No doubt, he already knew everything that had happened. Still, he never chose sides, so...

  "I owed it to him. I was having an affair, I made the wrong choice, and I owed him the second chance." It was the simplest explanation I could come up with. It was also the easiest way to avoid the truth without lying overtly.

  Billy shook his head and sighed again. "You love her," he reminded me. "You have as long as I've known you." He rubbed the thick mop of curls on his head. "I've never understood why you started dating David, let alone married him. Your heart has always belonged to Katie even when you didn't want to admit it."

  I cringed. I hated that he knew me so well.

  "You're fired." His tone was gentle but firm.

  I stood up. "What the fuck, Bill?" I shouted, leaning on the cheap metal desk salvaged from some old high school storage locker. "You can't fire me...I'm the best writer you have!"

  "Exactly." Billy gritted his teeth and stared at me. "I'm doing this for your own good. I refuse to let you waste your life writing for my crap publication. You need to call your boss and ask for your job back. You need to start living for yourself." He leaned in closer to me and I was surprised by the amount of concern in his eyes. "Please, Liz. He deserves someone who loves him completely. It's not fair to him."

  He cared about both of us. Bill was just caught in the middle.

  I thought about it and bit the inside of my lip hard. I nodded. He was right, of course, but I couldn't admit it outwardly. "So what are you suggesting?"

  Billy shook his head and laughed. "I'm suggesting that you call James McPherson, ask for your job back, and move home."

  "This is home."

  "We both know you haven't thought of this as home in a long time. When was the last time you were happy here, hmm?" I couldn't answer him. I couldn't remember.

  "Call your editor, get your job back, tell David you're sorry, but you have to leave. I'll pick up the pieces if I need to." He stressed the 'if' as though certain David already knew.

  "Bill," I started. He cut me off with a raised hand.

  "Go. Take the day, call your boss."

  It took all my willpower not to run out of the office. I headed down Conz Street reveling in the sun peeking through the New England clouds. Hesitantly, I pulled my phone out of my purse and punched James' number from memory. He answered on the second ring.

  "Markley!" He exclaimed. "Can you talk to Stephanie and tell her how to do your job? I'm drowning in a sea of red ink!"

  I laughed. "That was poetic."

  "It's the truth." Papers rustled on his desk. "What can I do for you?" He asked, already distracted by the next round of edits he needed to make.

  "I was calling to see if you'd give me my job back." I bit my lip and waited for his response. He was silent for a long time. "James?" I asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

  “Really?” he asked with surprise.

  “Yes.”

  "Hang on one second.” The phone thunked on the desk and I heard his fingers fly across the keyboard. “I just emailed Nate to tell him he lost our bet.”

  I smiled. “Your bet?”

  “He said it would be a month at best until you called. I said six. Needless to say, I won. Of course you can have your job back! When can you come home?" he asked, excitedly.

  Home. Boston was where I belonged.

  "As soon as I tell David I'm getting a divorce."

  "Oh, Liz. I'm sorry..."

  "Don't be." I was terrified, but it felt like the right decision.

  "We'll be glad to have you back, kid," James said with his typical gruff affection.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I could settle back in before having to make that confrontation happen. Dear god, this was nerve wracking, but it felt unbelievably right. I could do this.

  "I'll call you and let you know when I'm heading back. And thanks, James."

  He wished me luck and hung up. I headed home, head held high, projecting more confidence than I really felt.

  I immediately called Nathan.

  "I'm coming home," I said triumphantly.

  He whooped and threw something on his desk that landed with a loud thump. "Thank god! Have you told David?"

  The nerves swarmed me instantly. "Tonight when he gets home. I just can't do this anymore, Nate. It's not fair to either of us." He muttered in agreement.

  "Good. It’s about time. And the best part is you won’t even have to deal with awkwardness from Kate when you get back.”

  "What do you mean? Did she quit?"

  "Yeah,” he said gently. “I thought you knew. She's got a gallery show down in New York. It runs through the end of November, but last I heard, she’d accepted a position as an artist-in-residence at Yossi Milo."

  I stopped in my tracks, palms suddenly sweaty. She was trying to fix her own mistakes just as I was trying to fix mine. My heart pounded in my ears as I contemplated running straight to New York. But what good would it do? What would I even say? I sighed knowing the truth immediately. I was a coward and I wasn’t ready to go after her again.

  “You okay?” Nate asked, concerned.

  The lump in my throat threatened to choke me as I forced myself to swallow it down. “Yeah. I’ll see you in a few days,” I replied softly. Without waiting for a reply, I slipped the phone into my pocket and continued down the street towards the place that no longer felt like home.

  Chapter 21

  My apartment felt stifling. I wanted nothing more than to sprint out of the building and take the first bus to Boston. Instead, I waited patiently for David to come home. My bag was packed, sitting on the floor of my closet, full of my necessities. I scanned the living room for anything I might want to take and found nothing. It was full of knickknacks from my marriage with David. They held fond memories, but I wasn't overtly attached to any of them. In my nerves, I absently fiddled with the keychain Katie gave me in college. It was the only reminder I had of her. It was enough.

  The front door opened and I jumped, startled by the sudden noise. David dropped his bag by the front door, wordlessly walked to the kitchen, poured himself a drink, and flopped in his chair in the living room. He looked at me, face stony and cold, but not upset. His eyes fell onto the keychain in my hands and he grimaced.

  "We need to talk," I said as gently as I could. I really did care about him and I wanted this to be as gentle as possible. He deserved the
world--I just couldn't give it to him.

  David sighed, took a long sip of his bourbon, and closed his eyes. "We do," he agreed. "You first" he said, eyes firmly at my feet.

  "I love you, David," I started. It was the truth. "But I'm not in love with you." I studied his face for any reaction and found none. "I want a divorce," I finished. He deserved bluntness and simplicity.

  He exhaled loudly, puffing out his cheeks and swirling his drink, ice cubes clinking against the side of his glass. After taking a long deep breath, he leaned forward, eyes firmly on his feet.

  "It's about Kate, isn't it?" he asked sincerely. I nodded. "I always wondered who you loved so much. Now that I know, I kind of wish I didn't. It was easier to believe I was seeing things that weren't there before I had a face to go with the feeling."

  "I never meant to hurt you. I wanted our marriage to work out. I really did." Who knows...if we hadn't moved to Boston, it might have.

  "Was there something I could have done differently? Some personality trait you found annoying?"

  I shook my head sadly. "David, you're perfect. You're caring, selfless, brilliant—you were everything I could ask for. But I gave her my heart and I never really got it back." He nodded, polished off his drink, and stared at the glass, digesting everything I'd told him.

  "Your turn," I said gently.

  "I've met someone," he said softly, unable to keep the smile from his eyes.

  I grinned. "What?" I couldn't believe it.

  His deep brown eyes searched my face for approval. "Nothing's happened. I wanted to do right by you. But she's a professor at Mount Holyoke. She teaches Chemistry," he said wistfully.

  The grin transformed into a smile that stretched from ear to ear on my face. "David!" He looked startled. "That's great!" I was truly happy for him. At least one of us deserved happiness.

  "Really?" he asked, guiltily.

  "Yes. Really." We stared at each other intently and burst into laughter at the same time. "How long have you been seeing her?" I asked, genuinely curious. Neither of us had been ready to resume our relationship. In all honesty it was done out of a false sense of obligation; I refused to hurt him more than I had and he wanted to avoid hurting me.