Life In Reverse

by Beth Michele

  “Vance. That thing is going to explode if you stare at it any longer.” Chris shoves a piece of doughnut in his mouth, grinning. “Seriously, you n-need to chill out. You’re driving yourself insane over this girl.”

  I frown at the package of Twinkies Chris bought me. Even they don’t hold any appeal. “She’s worth a bit of insanity.” My gaze travels to the window. “It’s been a whole week and, I don’t know. I guess… I thought she would at least call me. I just want a chance to explain. To apologize… to—”

  “Grovel,” he chimes in, and somehow I manage a laugh.

  “Yeah, that too.”

  He brushes a sugar-coated hand on his pants. “Listen. You push people away. I know because you did it to m-me. But it wasn’t done out of malice. You’re not a selfish person Vance, and you didn’t do it to hurt me. You were just scared and angry. And in this case you had just witnessed….” Chris’s voice tapers off. “She’ll understand that.” His skinny hand latches onto my shoulder and he pulls me in close. “I forgave you, didn’t I?”

  I lean away from him, gripping the ends of my hair. “I didn’t break your fucking heart.”

  He slaps a hand over his chest. “Oh yeah, who s-says?”

  I laugh at his expression and his lame attempt at being serious. “Shut the fuck up.” He snickers, his grin returning as he finishes off the doughnut. Powdered sugar settles on the fabric of his dress pants. “You shouldn’t eat those before we see a client,” I scold, and he glares at the package on my lap.

  “Says the Twinkie King. Hey,” he nudges me with his elbow, “remember that t-time in fifth grade when your mom found three packs of Twinkie’s hidden under your mattress?”

  I snort, my mother’s wide blue eyes and pursed lips still in the forefront of my mind. “Yes, I remember. The smashed Twinkies.”

  “She was so mad,” he recalls, and a sigh gets trapped in my throat. “Especially because one of the packages was open, and the cream filling leaked onto the c-carpet.” We both crack up, our conversation interrupted by the sign indicating our stop as we hurry to exit the train.

  The ring of my cell phone cuts off all laughter. Startled and anxious, I nearly drop the darn thing on the ground once we reach street level. Ignoring Chris’s chuckles of amusement, I unlock the screen and hold the phone tightly to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Greetings from California!” Julian sings, and disappointment festers in my stomach.

  “Oh. Hey, Julian.”

  “Geez, don’t sound so excited to hear from your brother.” He cackles, the sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance.

  “Let me guess. You’re at the beach?”

  “Have I shared with you how much I miss your sarcasm, little brother? And yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I’ve finally mastered the whole surfing thing.” He sighs into the phone. “I know I keep saying this. But you should‘ve chosen Cali, Vance. It’s really awesome out here.”

  “Charming your way through Southern California, are you?” Chris smirks next to me and I add, “Speaking of charming, we’re on the streets of New York as we speak.”

  “Oh yeah? And how are things in The Big Apple?”

  My chest constricts but I shrug it off. “Good. Busy.” Chris mutters Ember’s name in the background and I put a finger to my lips to shush him. “Technology never sleeps.”

  “So… anything else new?”

  “Julian,” I reply, unable to hide my frustration. “I just spoke to you last week. Not much has changed.” Chris tilts his head, tossing me a look I disregard. “I’ve been too busy, anyway.”

  “Okay. Cut the crap, Vance. What’s going on? And don’t say nothing because I can hear it in your voice.” I huff out a loud breath. “See, I knew it. Are you feeling okay? What is it?”

  “I… ran into Ember on the subway,” I confess, and he’s quiet for so long I almost think he hung up. “Julian?”

  “Please tell me that you got down on your hands and knees and begged for her forgiveness. Because you are insane if you let her go again.”

  I picture the dude in the bar and my throat tenses. I clear it and go on. “She’s with someone now, Julian.”

  “Is she married?” he probes, and I should have kept my mouth closed. I already know his opinion on my actions three years ago and the fact that I didn’t want contact with anyone, including him at the time.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I suggest—”

  “Julian,” I interrupt, because I can’t talk about this right now, given that she hasn’t called me. “Thanks, okay. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It’s just that… the ball is kind of in her court now so I have to wait it out.”

  “In other words, get off your back,” he jibes.

  “Basically.”

  “All right, bro, I’m off to catch some prime morning waves. But call me later in the week, otherwise I’m going to hunt you down.” Someone shouts his name and his voice becomes muffled. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Later.” I hit end and come face-to-face with Chris’s smug grin.

  “You’ve got it barreling at you from all s-sides. Don’t you feel loved?” I frown at his choice of words and he grasps my shoulder, shooting me an empathetic smile. “Okay, wrong thing to say. But she’ll call. Just give her some time.”

  Time is all I have.

  “ALL RIGHT, LARRY. The Cisco firewall is up and running and all the Windows workstations are networked to the new server we installed. Chris handled setting up the network for the space on the first floor so you should be all set.”

  Larry extends his hand to shake mine. “You two are like the dream team. Which reminds me.” He removes the wallet from his pocket and hands me a business card. “One of my old colleagues has a start-up and needs some advice with respect to network security and clouds,” he scratches his head, “I think, anyway. I don’t know all the details, but I did tell him that you’d be a fantastic resource.”

  “Great. Thanks, Larry. I appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He slides his wallet back into the pocket of his suit jacket then checks his watch. “I’d like to buy you two some dinner.” He glances at the time again and shakes his head. “But considering I’ve missed dinner every day this week, the wife isn’t going to be too happy if I add another night to my list of travesties. I might be endangering my credit card limit.”

  “No worries.” I laugh. “I get it.”

  My phone rings and I excuse myself from our conversation to scoop it up from a nearby cubicle. “Hello?” Silence greets me at the other end of the line, but I vaguely hear soft breathing. My heart skyrockets in my chest and I say a silent prayer. “Ember?”

  A heavy sigh and then, “Yeah. Hi.”

  “Hey… I… I’m glad you called.” I take a seat on the swivel chair in front of the desk. “I wasn’t sure if you would,” I admit, blowing out a nervous breath. Fuck, this is hard. “I need to see you.” She gives me nothing but more silence and my jaw clenches. I roll a pencil back and forth over the desk, waiting for her to respond.

  “I don’t know… if that’s a good idea.” The uncertainty in her voice is stifling and I know I’m the cause of it, which only makes me more determined to remedy the situation. “Can’t we just talk now?”

  “No. I want to do this in person. Please, Ember. Can we meet up?” My tone reeks of desperation, but I don’t really give a shit because that’s exactly how I feel. “I promise it won’t take long.”

  A lingering pause and then a sigh. “Okay. Where do you want to meet?”

  Relief and anticipation fill my lungs and I smile. “How about The Comfort Diner at East Forty-Fifth Street. Do you know it?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Okay.” I glance at the time on the desktop. “How about we meet at six? Would that work?”

  She squeaks her response. “Tonight?”

  I want to tell her I think I’ve waited long enough. But instead I reply with a firm “Yes.�
��

  “Okay, I guess so.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.” She hangs up without saying goodbye, but I try not to read into it too much. It’s been a whole lot of time without any explanation—and I have a lot of fucking explaining to do.

  Chris shows up carrying a stack of computer equipment. “Hey, I’m all set d-downstairs. You want to head out and grab a bite to eat?” He stops when he sees my expression. I must be grinning like a fucking idiot. “She called.”

  “She did.”

  He throws the Cat5 cables, an old Buffalo file server, and a few SSD drives into a box. “So should I gather I’m going it alone for d-dinner?”

  “You don’t have to. You could ask someone out.” I slide my laptop in the bag and pick up the last of my tools off the desk.

  Chris leans against the wall of the cubicle, arms crossed over his chest. “I could, but I won’t.”

  Setting my bag on the carpet, I turn to face him. “Why the fuck not?”

  He answers me with a shrug, staring at the floor. “B-because, you know I get nervous, and then I end up stuttering more. What girl wants that?”

  His words incite a riot in my chest. “The right girl. That’s who. You just have to find her. Now come on,” I smack his arm, “let’s get the hell out of here. Because I’m going to find mine.”

  TAXIS SKID TO a screeching halt as shoes click against the pavement. The sharp whistle of trucks making deliveries, the shouts of street vendors trying to sell everything from portraits to purses. All of it fades into the background, overpowered by the thoughts swamping my brain. The concentration it takes to will my feet to keep moving—to remind myself to breathe.

  Street signs indicate only two more blocks separate me from my past. My heart picks up speed and I tell it to slow down, but it’s a stupid heart and it doesn’t listen.

  Troy’s words from our conversation last night stick in my head—‘give him a chance, love.’ His tone that always puts me at ease and then, ‘you know you want to.’ I wish the people close to me didn’t know me so well.

  My thoughts find their way to Grant and his kindness, his quirky sense of humor—but he’s not Vance. While I know I shouldn’t be comparing, it seems that Vance has become my benchmark. And a ghost should never be a benchmark.

  Except—he’s no longer a ghost.

  My brain doesn’t stop until I’m standing outside the diner. I wring out my hands and exhale a few big breaths to try to calm my runaway nerves, but they won’t be deterred. A woman exits the diner and holds the door open when she seems me there, but I shake my head and back up against the wall of the building. I need another minute… or fifty.

  This is absurd, I tell myself. Just because my heart wants something, doesn’t mean I have to listen to it. Fool me once, fool me twice, and all that. I’m going to hear what Vance has to say and then I’m going to leave and go on with my life. Easy.

  With that last thought, I straighten my dress and smooth down my hair then head inside. I can do this. I can do this. I keep repeating this mantra in my head as I walk through the door. The jingle announces my presence and when Vance spots me, and our eyes meet across the room, all my confidence goes right out the window. Even the slightest curl of his lips from this distance make the flutters start up in my belly. My nerve endings practically melt as his gaze skates over me on the way to the table. Nonetheless, I keep my expression blank as I slip into the booth.

  “Hi.”

  “Ember….” He breathes my name and relief seems to spill from his lips, almost as if he didn’t expect me to show up.

  I gaze at his long hair, the strong line of his jaw, those gray-blue eyes. God, I’ve missed staring into them. But then a mask slides down over my face—my only protection against my feelings and the desire to touch him, to make sure he’s real. He looks exactly like I remember save for the additional lines around his eyes. I wonder how hard his life has been for the past few years.

  “I’m really happy you called.” His fingers are busy flicking the edge of the menu. “I wasn’t positive you would.”

  This is a different Vance. An unsure Vance, and I’m not used to seeing him like this. It instantly chisels away a piece of the wall I’ve built around my heart, the one marked with several cracks.

  I fold and unfold my hands in front of me on the table. “I wasn’t sure I should, to be honest.”

  His cheeks lift on a half-smile. “But you did.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He leans his entire body forward and rests his weight on his elbows, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He suddenly feels too close and I plaster my back against the booth.

  “I guess I thought about something Avery said.” I spit the sentence out quickly. “About needing closure.”

  “Closure,” he repeats, as if testing it out on his lips. The partial smile gone.

  “Yes. A lot has happened and I’d… like to understand so I can move on.” The words taste sour but I feel the need to say them, if only to protect my heart.

  “I better get to it then,” he snaps. “So you can move on.” The irritation in his tone and the formality of our interaction gives me a stomach ache. This isn’t Vance and Ember. These are two strangers.

  “Vance, I—”

  “No. Let me just say what I need to say. Look….” He brings a hand to his head and closes his eyes. “Fuck,” he mutters, and when he opens them they are brimming with apology. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I panicked, got scared. You name it, I felt it. I didn’t want to leave, Ember. I swear to you.” He pins me with a sincere gaze, and I believe him. “But when I caught my father and,” he winces, looking toward the window, “your mother, everything felt, I don’t know. For lack of a better word, fucked.”

  “She didn’t know,” I whisper, fighting back tears as his gaze returns to mine. “She said she met your dad at her grief counseling group. I know it’s crazy and it makes no sense, but she didn’t know we were together that way. She’d been working so much and I hadn’t talked to her about it. But I blamed her anyway… at first. I was so mad and hurt. I couldn’t even stand the sight of her, and didn’t speak to her for weeks. But, then I realized she wasn’t the one I was angry with. It was you. She didn’t make you leave. You did that all on your own.” He nods in understanding, and I see now that his edge has lessened in some way—and my heart breaks for him and all he’s had to endure. Still, it doesn’t take away the hurt. “I was devastated when you left. I didn’t understand it. I thought what we had,” I swallow, willing myself not to cry, “mattered.”

  “It did—”

  I raise my hand to stop him, staring at a spot on the table. “Let me finish.” Inhaling an uneven breath, I finally let it all out. “After I had time for things to sink in, I actually understood why you reacted the way you did, why you left even.” I blink the wetness from my lashes before my eyes lock with his. “But I thought you’d come back. I thought what we were beginning together was worth more to you.” His hand moves toward mine and I pull away. “Don’t.” Removing a tissue from my purse, I dab it against my cheeks as we sit in silence. I try to gather my thoughts. But they are everywhere and nowhere all at once.

  I tip my head up and breathe deep, making another attempt. “My mother was devastated. Because she loves me. And she would never intentionally hurt me like that, or my dad for that matter given how close they still are.” I grab another tissue. “She broke things off with your dad a few days later. She told me she didn’t love him, but she did enjoy spending time with him and she was lonely. And you know what? I can’t fault her for that. I also wasn’t, nor have I ever been in a position to judge anyone, including your dad.”

  Vance’s gaze is unfocused as he scrubs a hand over his face, cheeks growing pale. “I won’t make excuses, you know. It was all… too much for me. I thought they were together. Seeing my dad with someone other than my mom, when she was sitting in that… that place, day after day, I thought being forgotten by him. It was… I can’t describe
it.”

  “I’m so sorry about your Mom, Vance.”

  His eyes fly to mine. “You were there,” he says so softly I almost don’t hear him. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “Because I wanted to be there for you. But… I wasn’t going to push myself on you, especially then.” I try to hold it together but my chin quivers. “And you didn’t want me anyway.”

  “That’s not true.” The words rush out, his hand inching closer. “I always wanted you.” His fingertips brush mine and that barely there touch sends shockwaves up my arm. Even though every instinct tells me to pull away again, I don’t. I need the connection as much as he does right now. “It felt like everything was stacked against us… seeing our parents together, my potential illness. It felt like a losing battle.”

  “But you’re okay, right?”

  “For now,” he supplies, a wariness in his words. “The initial tests came back negative, but every so often I still have to go in for a CAT scan and an MRI. I had a tremble in my hands, off and on, and periodic headaches, but they’ve gone away and the doctors couldn’t find a reason for it.”

  Relief sputters from my mouth and I give him a soft smile. “I’m so glad.” Then I speak the truth. Because in the end, that’s all we have. “I worried about you. A lot.”

  He smiles then. That crooked, one-sided lift of his lips that was somehow always clear in my mind. “I thought about you all the time,” he admits, and I press my thumb along the underside of my wrist, hoping to slow down the heavy beat of my pulse.

  The waitress finally comes over to take our drink orders, a much needed break to our weighted conversation. When she leaves, I ask one of the many questions circling my brain. “So what brought you to New York, anyway?”

  His eyes swivel back to mine. “I….” He stops, then starts again. “My friend Chris, I told you about him briefly. We ended up working things out and moved here together. We got a place in the East Village.”