The One I Want

by Scott, S. L.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?” she replies, leading me to give more.

  Pushing off the bed, I say, “I need to go.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I grab my suitcase and open it on the bed. “No, I mean, I need to get to the airport.”

  “Ah. Yes. I think you do. Have a safe trip, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “I already have if it’s not too late.”

  “It’s never too late to make amends. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.” I toss the phone on the bed and open the wardrobe to grab my suits to pack. But then stop and look at them. They’re suits. I’m not going on a business trip. I’m going to get a life back. Everything I need is already in New York City.

  When I was a kid working in this company's mailroom, I remember a quote that hung above the door. Setbacks don’t determine your fate. If you overcome them does.

  I always thought it would make more sense if it said how you overcome them does.

  But now I get it. Some people will hit an obstacle, and that’s where their story ends. Others won’t let anything stand in their way.

  “I’m sorry, sir. There are no available seats on any flights to JFK or LaGuardia tonight. Not in coach, business, or first class. And the standby list is ten people long. We can usually only accommodate three or four. I’m happy to book you on the first available flight in the morning.” Her eyes lower to the screen, and her fingers furiously tap on the keyboard. “I have first class on a six fifteen flight to JFK?”

  Setting my card down, I say, “I’ll take it.” Fuck. I need to get to New York. I need to get to her. I need . . . Maybe I need this time.

  I stop and think. Why couldn’t I get the flight I wanted?

  Maybe it’s time I need right now.

  I spend that time putting a new plan in place and attaching an ultimatum of my own. At three forty-seven in the morning, I push send to the advisory board, my parents, and Nick.

  At three forty-nine, my phone rings. I know who it is before I see the name on the screen. Makes sense because he’s three hours ahead. “Hello?”

  “Brav-fucking-o, brother. That’s the kind of message I like to wake up to.”

  I pack my laptop in my travel bag. “So you approve?”

  “Not of you quitting. Of your list of demands, that was a CEO talking there. Either way this pans out, you win. I’m proud of you for taking a stand.”

  Even I, with the confidence of an elementary school science fair champion, still like to get my family’s approval. “Thanks. How do you think Dad will react?”

  “I think he’ll be proud you finally figured your shit out.” Nick gets up early to work out like I do, so it doesn’t surprise me that he sounds wide-awake. “Upside, the plan from what I’m seeing right now is solid. If the account managers can’t do their job and keep their clients happy, then you can take the larger portfolios. But you can do that from anywhere and just fly in a couple of times a year.”

  “That’s why it’s there. There’s no need for me to sit in an office to placate a few clients.” I’m proud of the proposal I put together. This had been on my mind all week, but traveling here had its benefits. Seeing where I’m best utilized cemented the direction I need to steer the company. I won’t kowtow to a few clients on their whims. I have a record of success to back why I decide how to run this company, and it’s time I take that power back.

  I continue, “The bottom line is, this is not personal. It’s business. If they want the best, I’ll work with them directly. If they want to leave, that’s their choice. But I have a say in my fate moving forward.”

  “I agree. I’ll work on updating the client contracts for them and put you as the lead. It will be ready to sign on tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Nick.” Sinking down on the couch, I ask, “Have I told you recently that I think you’re doing a good job?”

  “You never tell me that.”

  “Probably best,” I say. “It’s good to see you motivated to please the boss.” Laughter bellows from his gut he’s laughing so hard. “Hey, you’re doing a good job.”

  “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “On a personal note, what do you think about Juni?”

  “What I think doesn’t matter, but if you’re asking if I approve, she’s a great girl and way out of your league.”

  I chuckle. “I know, but maybe she’ll take pity on me.”

  “For you, I hope she does. I hear you’re flying in. Want me to pick you up at the airport again?” His laughter builds. “I’m giving you warning that I’ll be in the car.”

  “I think I’m good.”

  “I know, you’re fine.”

  “Actually, I’m great.”

  In fact, it’s as if the stars aligned tonight. And I finally saw them with clarity.

  36

  Drew

  “Morning, Mr. Christiansen. It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too, Pete. It’s good to be home.” I’m not surprised to see Pete since it’s the day shift, but I was hoping to run into Gil for some advice. After all, he knows Juni best.

  I drag my suitcase into the elevator. Tired and running on autopilot, I reach for the button for the seventeenth floor but stop myself. I’m on a mission, so I punch sixteen instead.

  My knuckles hurt from knocking on her door for so long. I don’t know if she’s purposely not answering or if she’s not home, but I’m too anxious to sit here and wait for who knows how long. Looking down the hall, I haven’t heard the little yappy dog, but I do get an idea. I drag my suitcase and knock on Mr. Clark’s door.

  When he doesn’t answer either, I head upstairs to drop off my luggage and then catch the elevator back to the lobby. “Pete, why’s it so quiet on a Sunday. I’ve ridden the elevator three times, and it never made another stop. Maybe it’s my lucky day?” I’d like to think so, but I can’t confirm until I speak with Juni.

  “A lot of the residents and Gil are at the funeral.”

  I rush to the desk. “What funeral? Whose?”

  “Mr. Clark. He passed away last week. He was walking Rascal down at the park and had a heart attack on his way back, just outside the building. Gil saw it all and tried to help, but . . .” His gaze lowers as he shakes his head. “Man,” he starts again, his eyes watering. “I know he was old, but I don’t know. You get used to having people around. Know what I mean?”

  Juni. “I know what you mean. That’s too bad about Mr. Clark. I didn’t know him well, only met him once, but I know he had a lot of close friends in the building.” Shit. Juni was close to him. She loved that old man. And given his comments about Juni, he’d adored her, too. Another person in her life who left her. His words have bounced around my brain the whole time I’ve been away.

  “Stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling, or waiting for the perfect moment . . . If you love her, tell her. I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her.”

  Did destiny plant him in my life at just the right moment, too? And I’d still missed the point? But not the pun about destiny and the plant. Seriously, Christiansen, your humor is so whack sometimes.

  I need to be with Juni. I need her to know that I’m not leaving her—abandoning her.

  It’s time to start writing a story worth telling. Our story.

  “What time is the funeral?”

  Checking his watch, he replies, “Starts in fifteen minutes.”

  I look at the door as if that can help me. “Where is it?”

  “If you’d like to attend, here’s a flyer Juni put together—” I snatch it from his hands.

  “Thanks, Pete.”

  “Give my condolences.”

  I push through the door and run to the curb to flag down a taxi. As soon as one pulls over, I hop in the back, and say, “To this address. Hurry.”

  I’m a fucking asshole for not checking in on Juni this past week. I thought I read the sign for
time correctly, but maybe following destiny is harder than I thought. Or maybe she’s in a bad mood because we hit every red light in the city and an accident involving a honey truck that tipped over.

  The cabbie looks at me in the rearview mirror, and asks, “You from around here?”

  “No.”

  He hands the flyer back and rests his elbow over the chair when he looks back. “This funeral home is two blocks north of here and three blocks straight down. You’ll get there faster if you walk it than sitting here letting the meter run. This honey truck isn’t going anywhere soon. And the bees are coming.”

  I can walk. Fuck, I’ll run it. If that means getting to Juni, being there for her, I’ll do it. He turns on the windshield wipers when I take the flyer back and toss a bill to cover the fare. “Keep it.”

  Swatting a few bees out of the way, I start running, now wondering if bees are a sign of something. All this New Age destiny stuff is fucking with my head.

  I’m a runner, dammit. I’m not usually running in jeans, fitted jeans at that. Not only is the denim rubbing me wrong in my crotch but it’s also fucking hot today. I reach the funeral home, stopping on the steps out front to catch my breath. Wiping the sweat with the hem of my shirt, I try to clean up out of respect. There was no time to change clothes, so a white T-shirt and sneakers it is.

  I march up the steps and open the doors. Gil turns to offer a program, but when he sees me, he says, “Andrew, you’re back in town?”

  Keeping my voice low like his, I reply, “Just got in and heard the news from Pete. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “He’s been a resident in the building since before I started working there. Nice man.”

  “How’s Juni doing?”

  He lifts up to see if he can spot her. Maybe that’s all the answer I need—to see her again. “She’s sitting alone in the first row if you’d like to see her.”

  “Thanks.” As much as I would like to get advice on a few things, now is not the time. I can’t think about me, or us, when I know she’s devastated.

  I don’t get far before he catches me. “You know, Andrew, she hasn’t opened up about what’s going on or what happened, which is unlike her. But you know what that tells me?”

  “What?”

  “She cares about you. A lot.”

  “I care about her more than a lot.”

  He grins, and maybe that’s allowed at the funeral for a man who lived a long and good life. I’m sure Mr. Clark is already in heaven causing a scene and kissing his wife.

  Gil whispers as the service begins. “Commitment has always been a thing since her parents died. They were too good at what they did, loved it, but obsessed. Even they couldn’t control their fate. But Juni somehow got it twisted in her head that if she took herself out of the running, she’d never be hurt again. I’m not telling you what to do, but when pushed, she runs the other way. So, if you’re thinking about trying to get back into her life, you get one shot. Make it count.”

  I shake his hand. “Thanks, Gil.”

  He tugs me in and whispers, “Hurt her again, and you’d better stay in California.”

  Leaning back slowly, I see the warning in his eyes to back his words. I nod, surprised to see this side of him. I’m equally happy Juni has him. “I won’t.”

  I don’t join Juni on the front row, deciding at the last minute it was best to let her have this time to grieve. I also don’t want to disrespect Mr. Clark’s family and friends. The one time I’m not Mr. Suit . . .

  After a long line of speakers wanting to share poignant stories of how Mr. Clark affected them or changed their life for the better, Gil grips the side of the podium and leads us in a moment of silence. Then he says, “There’s someone else who would like to say a few words. Mr. Christiansen?” He steps aside, signaling me to come up.

  “What?” I’m shaking my head. I barely knew Mr. Clark. If not for that last conversation before I left for Seattle, I wouldn’t know him at all.

  Out of the sea of people, Juni’s head rises above all. Her eyes penetrate mine as her eyebrows knit together. “What are you doing?” She doesn’t even mouth it but says it for everyone to hear.

  While I panic sweat in this pew, Gil grabs the microphone again and says, “Now is your chance to say how you feel, Andrew.”

  Why’s he doing this? He’s the one who told me to—shit—make it count. I thought he meant for me to decide when that would be, not to be forced into it.

  With everyone staring at me, I stand and walk slowly up the aisle. When Rascal sees me, he yaps and springs from his blanket in front of the casket to run to me. Tail wagging, tongue hanging out the side, and freshly washed by how his fluffy fur makes him look round.

  I bend down and catch the little fellow. This time, I don’t mind his slobber all over my chin. At least someone missed me.

  Juni is seated again, and when I pass, I hand Rascal over as a peace offering. She takes him and holds him to her chest. He barks once more, but she’s able to quieten him down as I step behind the podium. Looking at this packed house, I look down to try to gather my thoughts. Remembering what Mr. Clark told me, I step forward.

  Here goes everything.

  “Hi, I’m An—I’m Drew,” I say, raising my hand. “I, uh, apologize for my lack of suit. Just came from the airport. Thought I’d say a few words off the cuff, if you don’t mind.” I hear a “go on” and “the floor is yours” from audience members. “I didn’t know Mr. Clark well. We lived in the same building, one floor apart. But I knew Rascal, and I had the honor of hearing a story of his a few weeks back. One about his wife.” People start shifting in their seats, looking bored. I clear my throat and grip the sides of the podium for support. “I’ll never forget that conversation because although it was brief, it was memorable. He said that life is not just about collecting stories but about making memories worth sharing one day. Since that conversation, I’ve realized that with my current life trajectory, I won’t have a story worth telling to my grandkids other than I went to work and came home. That’s not living. That’s not worth telling anyone.”

  I look right at Juni and make it count. “Juni, you woke me up from the sleep I’d been in. We haven’t known each other long in the scheme of a lifetime, but I like creating stories, memories with you better than working seventy, eighty hours a week. I like when you wear your hair on top of your head, and it’s a mess. I like the hard time you give me when I give too much of myself to the company. The green of your eyes first thing in the morning and the pink of your cheeks after we make love match the leaves of the rose Calathea.”

  She’d been steady in her expression, keeping it neutral until now. That pink I mentioned colors the apples of her cheeks, and the lines from sadness soften. Her gaze had stretched into the distance, but now her eyes are set on me.

  I continue, “Mr. Clark was a wild man from what it sounds like, but it worked for him. I’m not sure I could get away with the same, but I think he’s leaving a good motto to follow. He also said to stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling. Don’t wait for the perfect moment and stop beating around the bush. Solid advice for everyday life. Ah, a rhyme,” I add, feeling the heat of embarrassment sink its claws in me.

  This time when I look at Juni, she holds three fingers in front of her chest. With a proud nod, a full smile appears. I don’t know why she’s proud or why she’s smiling, but it gives me hope that I’m doing something right, so I keep rambling. “I’m not sure how Mr. Clark knew the right thing to say the day we met, but this stuck with me the most. He said, if you love her, tell her. I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her. Fuck, that’s good stuff.” Giggles ripple across the crowd. “Oh, sorry. Anyway,” I start again, one of Juni’s favorite words rolling off my tongue as if it’s one of mine as well. Looking at her with tears in her eyes, the light that shined in them that first day I met her has returned. “I love you so much, Juni. I don’t want to create stories with anyo
ne else but you.”

  Feeling invincible, I push off the podium and walk to her pew. “May I?” She nods, so I sit beside her, perhaps taking my first real breath in a week. I don’t say anything. There’s not much left other than a few important details to work through privately. But when she reaches over and slides her hand in mine, I know I’ll get that chance.

  You’d think I was a superhero with all the back pats and congrats I was getting outside on the sidewalk. The mourners have gone, and Gil’s been helping Juni wrap up after the minister spoke. He comes trotting down the steps and says, “Mr. Clark would have approved.”

  “What about you?” Gil’s a father figure to Juni. His opinion matters to me.

  He replies, “Way to make it count. I’ll see you two tomorrow. I have a date at home.”

  “You didn’t have to wait.”

  I turn to see Juni, dressed in a black dress, standing on the top step. Rascal sits at her side on his leash.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I say, “I don’t mind waiting for you.” I don’t think the double meaning is lost on either of us. A gentle smile works its way onto her face as she comes down the steps.

  She stops on the last one, closer to eye level with me but not quite. “He left Rascal to me.”

  I look down at the dog who’s staring at me like he’s enamored. He’s the strangest and cutest dog I’ve ever seen. “He knew you’d take good care of him. You already were.”

  Kneeling, she strokes the top of his head. “Who’s a good boy? You are.” When she stands again, she asks, “Did you mean everything you said?”

  “Every word.”

  “You still left, Andrew.”

  I let the name slide because I understand she has reasons to be mad. Reasons to feel abandoned. “I left because I didn’t see there was an alternative. And I wouldn’t have learned that had I not gone. I wouldn’t have learned that I’m not indispensable and that although my role requires I look after the business and its employees, there are more important things in my life to me. You. Us.” Taking hold of her hands, I say, “Travel is required with the company, but if you give me this second chance, you’ll know that I’ll look at each scenario and consider more clearly if it’s my pride that decides if I go or if I’m a necessity. Because you are essential to me.”