by Vivian Arend
I look down at the dirty dishes between us, blinking away the tears in my eyes.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” I say. “We were having a nice dinner, and I had to wreck everything. Now I’m causing all this drama, and you don’t like drama, and I’m sorry. This is me, Luca. I live in a garage behind my mother’s house, and I work the same job I’ve had for years. I’m stuck, and I don’t care, because I’m comfortable here. My best friend Rory comes by on Sunday and we do laundry and watch TV. I don’t want to have kids, because I don’t want to stop being a kid. I don’t want to have your babies. I might change my mind later, but right now, I can’t imagine it.”
His eyes flick up to mine. “What made you think I wanted you to have my babies?”
I hold my arms tighter around myself. My head is hot and my body is cold.
I can’t tell him that I feel it every time he looks at my stomach, like he’s planning our future. “Never mind. I’m just crazy. Typical woman, right?”
He looks down and straightens all his silverware, avoiding my eyes.
“Tina, I’m just taking life one day at a time. Same as anyone else. But it’s very difficult to have an honest discussion with someone who breaks into hysterics.”
I push my chair back and stand. “Hysterics?”
He stays seated, looking up at me warily. “I don’t know what else to say. I’ve had a lot of fun with you these past few weeks.”
I shrug and turn my face away, waiting for the worst.
It’s over. He’s had fun, and now it’s over.
“You should go,” I say, my voice thin and cold.
“We’re not going to talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I hope your opening goes well on Saturday. Don’t worry about me making a scene, because I won’t be coming.”
“You won’t come to my grand opening?”
I won’t turn to look at him, because then I’ll definitely cry.
“Honestly, I don’t see the point. Just go.”
He pushes his chair back and stands. “I don’t like this side of you,” he says.
“Me neither, but I don’t have a choice.”
“You’re shutting me out.”
“Just go.”
I turn my body away so I can’t even see him out of the corner of my eyes.
“Don’t forget your jacket,” I say. “Make sure you have everything that’s yours when you leave.”
“Teenie.”
I growl, “Don’t call me that. You don’t know me.”
I hear him moving around, pulling on his boots and getting his leather jacket from the closet.
Without a word, he opens the door, leaves, and gently closes it again.
I walk around the circuit, closing all the blinds and curtains, keeping my face turned away from the windows.
I lock the door, and then I open the coat closet. I push out the shoes and settle onto the floor, my legs folded up in front of me. I pull the door shut behind me and bury my face between the jackets.
Safe in this small space, I disappear.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Luca had the garage’s grand re-opening on Saturday.
The flower shop sent over an arrangement. I considered signing my name on the card, but I didn’t.
I wrote: Best wishes from Gardenia Flowers.
The opening went well, and the only motorbike “gang” who showed up was a group of seniors who tour on road bikes together.
My sister keeps me up-to-date on what’s going on at the garage. She bumps into Luca from time to time on Baker Street. Unlike me, she hasn’t switched her route to detour through the alley to avoid him.
Luca and I haven’t spoken to each other since the night he left my place.
That was three months ago.
Three long months ago.
Sometimes I’m sad our fling didn’t last a little longer. Other times, I’m relieved, because the hole he left in my heart feels like it might close up eventually.
This year, I got through the prom season with very few tears shed.
One of the boys who came in asked for blue flowers, to match his date’s dress. I told him how I once wore a blue rose to my own prom. I told him about the pale blue dress, and how everyone said I looked like a bride. I told him how my friends all got drunk in the bathroom, but I wouldn’t drink their smuggled booze.
The alcohol was actually someone’s father’s moonshine, brewed in the bathtub from who knows what. Two of my friends threw up right on the dance floor. Everyone ran outside because of the smell. Then the DJ pointed the speakers at the open gym doors, and we all danced the last songs of the night outside, under the stars.
I’d almost forgotten about those last songs.
Time rearranges itself sometimes, like a road map that’s folded like a paper fan. With the folds, two cities miles apart come together and touch, just like how anniversaries pull us back through time and link with previous ones, until everything’s happening at once.
In the flower shop, the boy who ordered the blue corsage just looked at me like I was a weird older lady and he couldn’t understand why I was even talking to him, much less talking about the philosophy of time.
When he left, I realized I was smiling.
My memories of Jonathan seemed to hold more joy than previous years. It was as though time had bleached out the sorrow, the way the sun faded the blue dye in my rose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Megan leans over me, putting the finishing touches on my hair.
It’s August now.
I hardly think about Luca at all. But I haven’t been on any other dates.
Tonight is the annual Baker Street Block Party. We barricade the street at either end of a five-block span, and people from all over the city come to enjoy a party that goes until midnight.
Lots of people dress up for the party in summer-themed costumes, or at least get their faces painted—adults alongside kids.
Megan and I have been going as “flower girls” every year, and tonight is no exception. I already braided her hair and twisted the braids around her head in a crown, and she did the same for me. Now we’re decorating our heads, adding more fresh-cut flowers than most people would think is reasonable.
“It’s getting heavy,” I say, complaining.
“I think we could get a few more flowers on your head,” Megan says.
We’re in the flower shop, and Rory is sitting nearby, reading gossip magazines that are several months old.
Without even looking up from the magazine, Rory says, “You two look perfect. Let’s go eat.”
Rory has put some flowers in her hair, but just a few daisies stuffed into a bun. She would never let us touch her hair, much less braid it into a crown and stuff in an unreasonable number of flowers.
We finish up with our hair, switch off the lights, lock up, and walk out into the crowd.
For the next few hours, the three of us shop for beaded jewelry and tie-dyed clothing at the usual assortment of street vendors that appear at all open-air festivals. Then we sample the many delicious deep-fried foods, including a battered, deep-fried Mars bar.
Rory says she’s tired, and anxious from people jostling her in the dark, so she goes home not long after sunset.
My sister and I make our way over to the band stage and stake out a prime spot for our blanket.
We’re just sitting down when a familiar figure tosses a gray wool blanket next to ours and takes a seat.
Luca Lowell is sitting right beside me. The sun has set, and his features are only lit by the street lamps, but every cell in my body knows it’s him.
I’ve glimpsed Luca around from time to time over the last few months, but I always run in the opposite direction to avoid him.
I turn to Megan, keeping my back to him, and whisper, “Meenie. Don’t look now, but you-know-who is behind me. Roll up the blanket and let’s go.”
“Just talk to him,” she says, her voice at regular volume. “Y
ou can’t avoid Luca forever.”
I hear him say, “Is that Teenie and Meenie under all those flowers?”
I slowly turn around, a smile hardening on my face.
“Hi, Luca. How are you?”
One look into his pale blue eyes, and my breath is taken away.
“That really is you,” he says. “Nice flowers. Hey, Megan. You guys look… cute.”
I reply, “Cute? That means a lot, coming from a manly guy who doesn’t usually say words like that.”
He chuckles, looking down at his long legs as he stretches them out in front of himself on the gray blanket.
I follow his gaze and look at his legs, while giving myself a lecture.
Tina, just get up from this blanket right now and walk away. No good can come of this! He’s not going to apologize for being a jackweed, and you’re not going to apologize for whatever you did. Because you did nothing wrong. I know that hole in your chest is gaping open, and you want to fill it with something big and tough, like Luca, but you don’t need him. You’ve been just fine without him.
Unaware of my silent freakout, Megan asks Luca if he tried the deep-fried Mars bar.
“I didn’t know that was a real thing,” he says.
“Damn straight,” Megan replies. “I had to share mine with Teenie, so I’ve only had half of one. Hey, I’m getting an idea. The band isn’t starting up for a bit, so how about I go get another deep-fried Mars bar, and you can eat half of it?”
He says, “What if I want a whole one, and I don’t like sharing?”
She gets up on her feet, using my shoulder to steady herself. “That’s a great idea, Luca! I’ll be right back. Teenie, watch my stuff.”
She walks off, leaving me alone with Luca.
I glance over at his face for a second, then look away. By the look of the new beard he’s sporting, it’s possible he hasn’t shaved since the last time we spoke. His wavy brown hair is much longer, too. I get a chill, wondering if he stopped shaving and getting haircuts as of that very night.
He clears his throat. “Tina, I don’t know how to be around you.”
I keep staring straight ahead at the empty band stage.
“Just relax. Stuff happens. Sometimes things don’t work out, because they were wrong to begin with.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he says.
“Thanks for cheering me up, anyway. I had fun with you, and I’m doing a lot better now. Just so you know, I took all those photos in my house down, and I got some new ones to put up. I’ve got a great picture of my mom, in Italy.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“I’ll probably fly out to see her soon. I got my passport and everything. I’m moving on, exploring the world.”
“Tina.” His voice is deep yet quiet.
I turn to Luca. His face is so damn attractive that it hurts to look directly at him. My eyes are burning. I grit my teeth and hope he doesn’t say anything kind to me. One kind word or heartfelt apology, and I’m going to lose it.
“I never meant to make you feel bad,” he says. “There’s no excuse for how I am sometimes. I should get a bunch of cards printed up, and on every card, it will read: Sorry I’m a jerk.”
I feel myself melting under his gaze.
“You’ll need a lot of those,” I say, acting tough.
“Will a thousand do?” The corner of his mouth quirks up.
A woman approaches and flops down on the blanket next to Luca. “A thousand what?” she asks.
He turns to her and says, “A thousand pre-printed apology cards, just for me.”
The woman has straight, black hair cut in a bob. She’s stunning and petite, with an adorably tiny nose and small ears.
“Apology cards,” she says, laughing as she speaks. “Oh, Luca, what are we going to do with you?”
I sit quietly and watch as they give each other a series of funny looks, as though they’re communicating without words.
I wish Megan would have warned me Luca has a new girlfriend, because I might have been prepared for the murderous feelings I’m having right now.
Sitting next to me in a recycled shopping bag, I have five or six beaded necklaces. Each of them would be perfect for strangling this chick to death.
She reaches across Luca’s legs with her adorable, dainty hand.
She tells me her name, but my head is buzzing with static, and every nerve in my body is telling me to run. I don’t hear a word of what she’s said. I shake her pretty hand and mumble my name with all the grace of a tranquilized bear.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and Megan plunks down beside me.
“I got the last two they had.” She hands one paper plate to Luca. “Want another bite?” she asks me, waving the other one under my nose.
I launch myself forward and lurch to my feet, holding my stomach.
“I don’t feel so good,” I moan to her, avoiding looking at Luca and his girlfriend. “I’m going home now to beat the crowd.”
“You sure?” she asks.
Luca says something as well, but I don’t hear him.
I throw myself into the gathering crowd, and disappear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’m woken from my sleep by a phone call. My eyes are sore, because I got home from the block party and cried in bed.
The call is coming from the hospital.
My blood runs cold, and I’m awake.
“Hello?”
“Don’t panic,” says the female voice on the line.
“Megan? Rory?”
“I’m a nurse,” she says. “Are you Tina?”
“Yes.” I hold my hand over my chest to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. “This is Tina. And I’m in a panic. Tell me what’s going on, or you’d better send an ambulance over for me.”
I can hear people laughing in the background, and a man’s voice. In a flash, I know it’s Luca.
“Listen, it’s not an emergency,” she says.
“Is this some sort of sick joke?”
“Ma’am, do you have a vehicle that’s not a motorbike? Would you be able to come and pick up Mr. Luca Lowell?”
The phone slips right out of my hand. My palms are so moist with sweat, my phone slipped out like a bar of soap.
I pick up the phone again. She’s reciting the address, but I know the way to this hospital. I tell her I’m on my way, and I grab my keys and jog out to the car.
My mind is blank on the drive over. I’m locked down, emotionally. In survival mode.
I’m pulling into the parking lot for the hospital when I realize I’m wearing thin cotton pants, a tank top, and no bra. At least I’m wearing shoes. Two completely different shoes.
I sit for a moment in the parking spot, thinking about returning home for a jacket and matching shoes.
I check the time. It’s three o’clock in the morning.
To hell with it. Anyone awake at three in the morning doesn’t have the right to be offended by my appearance.
I walk into the hospital and check in at Emergency. They’ve changed the flooring, and painted the walls a different color. The same giant mural of ducks flying over a lake is still on the main wall.
A nurse comes to bring me to Luca. She keeps sneaking peeks over at me, pressing her lips tightly to keep from laughing.
We reach a door, and she pauses for a minute.
She looks up at me and says, “He’s a lively one.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” I ask.
She gives me a puzzled look.
“It was a motorbike accident, right?”
She shakes her head. “No. He was helping to take down the band stand, and someone in a truck backed into him.”
I turn and look at the door. He can’t be that bad if they called me to pick him up, but I’m still afraid to go inside.
“Don’t I know you?” the nurse asks. “You’re Jonathan’s girlfriend.”
I turn and look into her eyes. She’s an older lady, near retirement age. Her h
air wasn’t white back then, so I didn’t recognize her at first.
She blinks rapidly. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry. You have a name. It’s just that I remember people through their connection to the patients.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m proud to be Jonathan’s girlfriend. I’ll always be his girlfriend. And he really liked you, Doreen.”
She looks wistfully at the door. “You’re a lucky girl to find love twice. Now get in there and take that guy home before we decide to keep him.”
I give Doreen a hug and step into Luca’s room.
“Teenie!” He’s sitting up on a bed, holding his arms out for a hug. He looks fine, except for a fresh cast on his left foot. He’s wearing the same shirt I saw him in earlier tonight, and the bottom of his jeans have been cut away on the cast side.
“Someone hit you with a truck?”
“Didn’t hurt at all,” he says, his words slurring. “Would you like a pill? I have some.”
“I’m good, thanks. I’m just here to give you a ride home.”
He eases himself off the bed and grabs a pair of crutches. With a big grin on his face, he makes his way over to me.
“Where’s your friend?” I ask.
“You’re my friend. And your sister is my friend. But you’re my favorite one. We’re going to get married. Did you know that?”
“You are high.”
His blue eyes are unfocused as he looks around wildly. “Don’t tell the nurses,” he whispers.
I look around the room behind him. “Do you have all your stuff?”
He reaches out and squeezes my breast.
“Honk,” he says.
“Very mature.”
He squeezes the other one. “Honk.”
I turn and hold open the door, waving him ahead of me.
We get all the way out to my car, where he tries to take my keys.
“I’m driving,” he says. “Lemme drive.”
I calmly steer him around to the passenger side.
“If you’re a good passenger, we can switch drivers halfway,” I tell him.
“Good plan!”
I lean into the car to adjust the seat. I push it all the way back to make room for his long legs plus the cast.