The Light We Lost

by Jill Santopolo

  And that was the thing: with Darren it always was fun. Being with him was easy. It was relaxed—and relaxing. It was comfortable. And I found that I was looking forward more and more to seeing him. And thinking less and less about you. Which was good, because I hadn’t heard from you again—or tried to contact you myself. I felt saner when I wasn’t waiting for a message from you. You weren’t out of my life completely, though. Once in a while I’d see your published photographs in the New York Times—your name would jump out at me as I rode on the subway. Every time it happened, my heart raced and I felt vaguely ill and off for the rest of the day. But I never felt that way around Darren.

  “Halloween party?” I asked. “Okay, sounds good. Do we need costumes?”

  “Do we need costumes, she asks!” he said, as if he were telling someone else about our conversation, even though he lived alone. We both did. “We absolutely need costumes,” he said. “I was thinking . . . Prisoner of Azkaban? We could be Harry and Hermione? Or maybe I could be Spider-Man and you could be MJ?”

  I couldn’t help but think, in that brief moment, that those were two costumes you would never, in your whole life, ever suggest. The year before you and I had gone as a plug and a socket, remember? That was more your style. More both of our styles, actually.

  “So you’re going for pop culture?” I asked Darren.

  “Okay, can I confess something?” he said.

  My heart lurched. “Okay . . .” I answered, really having no idea what was coming next. Already regretting that I hadn’t kissed him, that I hadn’t tried harder.

  “I was drawing a blank with Halloween costumes, so I Googled ‘popular Halloween costumes.’ If you have any more original ideas, I’m all ears. Well, actually, I’m not. I’m eyes and a nose and a mouth and . . . well . . . other body parts too.”

  I laughed, so incredibly relieved. “Other body parts?” I asked, realizing for the first time that I really wanted to flirt with him. That I was enjoying it. “Really?”

  He was silent on the other end of the line. I could imagine his face, eyes opening wider, cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t mean . . .” he said.

  “How about a Freudian slip?” I asked. “For Halloween? I can wear a slip with the word Freudian on it. And you can be Dr. Freud himself. I’ll find you a cigar.”

  He laughed. “I like it!” he said. “Better than Spider-Man and MJ for sure.”

  “What time’s the party?” I asked.

  “Starts at nine,” he said, “at Gavin and Arjit’s place. Do you remember Arjit from the Hamptons?”

  “I don’t think I do.”

  “Well, you’ll meet them both at the party, then. How about I come over at eight with pizza? I have no idea what those guys think is appropriate party food, so we should be fortified before we leave.”

  “Sounds good to me. I think I have a slip somewhere around here. And I’ll look for some fabric markers tomorrow.”

  “And my cigar?” Darren said. “Actually, I think I’ll bring my own cigar.”

  “Oh, will you?” I asked.

  I could tell I’d flustered him again. “Um . . .” he said.

  “Just teasing. I’ll see you Saturday night.”

  • • •

  SATURDAY NIGHT CAME and Darren arrived at my apartment wearing a white beard, fake glasses, a gray three-piece suit, and a sedately striped tie. He was carrying a pizza box in one hand and a cigar in the other.

  “Do I look Freud-ish?” he asked.

  “Remarkably so,” I answered. “Do I look like a Freudian slip?”

  My hair was down and loose, and I was wearing a knee-length white lacy slip with the word Freudian written on it in red fabric marker. I hadn’t been quite sure which shoes were appropriate, so I went with silver ballet flats. I matched my lipstick to the fabric marker, so it was bright red.

  Darren smiled behind his fake beard. “You do,” he said. “You absolutely do.”

  • • •

  SOMETHING BETWEEN US changed palpably that night. Instead of doing his goofy gentlemanly arm crook, he held my hand as we walked to his friends’ apartment. We were quickly roped into a game of flip cup and another and another, which left him tipsy and me one level past that.

  Wherever he was at the party, his eyes kept coming back to me, as if he was making sure I was okay, making sure I was still there. I remembered going to parties with you, my eyes roaming the room for you the way Darren’s were for me. It was nice, the change in roles.

  When the party started winding down, Darren drifted back toward me. I was chatting with some other girlfriends about I have no idea what. “I’m getting a little tired,” he said.

  I turned toward him. “Me too. Shall we?”

  He nodded. “I’ll grab our coats and meet you by the door.”

  I said good-bye to the girlfriends and headed to where Darren was talking with Gavin. He’d been pointed out to me earlier, but we hadn’t met yet.

  “This is Lucy,” Darren said, when I got closer.

  “So you’re the paper doll,” Gavin said.

  “I’m the what?” I asked.

  I saw Darren give Gavin a look. “You’re beautiful,” he said quickly. “Just like a doll.”

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling.

  I knew there was something I was missing, but it didn’t matter. That night, as we left the Halloween party, I felt adored. And happy. And completely thrilled that Darren took my hand as we walked out into the crisp fall night together.

  “Walk you home?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I answered. My gaze lingered on his lips, where they peeked out of his Freud beard. If he’d tried to kiss me three weeks before then, I would’ve freaked. Maybe never seen him again. But at that point, I wanted it. I wanted him. He wasn’t you, he’d never be you, but he was sweet and kind and funny and smart and endearing. And there was something wonderful about that.

  We got to my door, and Darren stopped. I stopped. We faced each other. He’d taken off his fake beard and my eyes went to his lips again.

  “Lucy,” he said, “I don’t want to go too fast, but I want to . . .”

  “Kiss me,” I said.

  His eyebrows popped.

  “You want to kiss me,” I repeated. “It’s okay. Kiss me.”

  Darren leaned in, and our lips met, soft and warm in the night air. Our bodies pressed together. I smelled that Kenneth Cole Reaction cologne that half the men at work seemed to have started wearing that year.

  He smelled so different than you did. He tasted different and felt different. I blinked tears away from the corners of my eyes.

  Then our lips separated and Darren looked at me and smiled.

  I wondered if I should invite him inside, if that was the right thing to do. I didn’t really want to, but didn’t want to send him a message that I wasn’t interested. Before I could puzzle through it, Darren said, “I should go . . . but tonight was a lot of fun. Are you free on Thursday?”

  I smiled. “I am.”

  Darren leaned in and kissed me once more. “I’ll call you,” he said, as he walked away and I headed inside.

  For the first time since you left, I dreamed about someone else.

  xxxi

  It’s funny to experience the same thing with different people. You see how they react, and how they meet or subvert your expectations. It happened with Darren a lot. I had assumed that you were the male standard, that you acted the way all men acted. But really, there is no standard.

  The first morning Darren and I went running together was the second morning he’d stayed at my apartment. He’d come from work with a gym bag that he’d never actually brought to the gym. He said he’d meant to go before he got to the office, but there was trouble on the subway. I believed him. But that next morning, while we were running, he admitted the truth: he’d packed it in the hope that
I’d invite him over, and this way he’d have more to wear than just his work suit.

  “What if I didn’t invite you over?” I asked him.

  “Then I’d carry my gym bag back home and drown my sorrows in pretzels dipped in peanut butter.”

  “Pretzels dipped in peanut butter?” I asked. “Really?”

  “It’s a delicacy,” Darren said. “I swear. After we finish running, we can buy some.”

  Darren can run faster than me, but he didn’t make a big deal of it. He waited until I started running, and then paced himself next to me. That way, we could talk without any trouble. It was a pleasant surprise. Did you notice that I hardly even agreed to go running with you? We never talked about it. We probably should have. When we ran together I always felt like I was reining you in when you wanted to fly.

  I started lagging a little bit.

  “You okay?” Darren asked.

  I nodded, gathering strength. “I can keep up a little longer,” I said.

  “You don’t have to,” he answered, slowing down to a walk.

  “You can keep running,” I told him, as I slowed down too. “Get your workout in.” That was what you did, after I tired out.

  He shook his head. “I’d rather walk with you than run alone. And, you know, walking is a good workout too. You burn the exact same number of calories walking a mile as you do running a mile. It just takes less time when you run.”

  I looked sideways at him, wondering if he was really being honest. It seemed like he was. “You don’t get the cardio, though,” I said.

  He shrugged. “But I get to spend time with you.”

  • • •

  I HAD SEX WITH HIM for the first time that afternoon. That felt different than it did with you, too. Not worse, just different. He was slower, thoughtful, and checked in to see if I liked what he was doing, if there was anything else I wanted. At the beginning, I thought it was a little weird, but toward the end, he’d started to win me over. I began to give directions, which I’d never done with you.

  “Put my legs on your shoulders,” I told him. He did and slid further inside me.

  “Oh my God,” he whispered, thrusting faster.

  “I know,” I said. My eyes were closed and I could feel him hitting the spot deep inside that would make me orgasm. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” I told him.

  “Me too,” he said. “We’ll come together.”

  I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me. His eyes were dark normally, but now they looked almost black.

  My breathing changed pitch and so did his. We were both so close, and both waiting for each other.

  “Now?” he asked

  “Now,” I said.

  And we both let go. I felt tears in my eyes as I came, and they slipped down the sides of my face into my ears.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, after he’d slid off the condom and rolled next to me on the bed.

  “More than okay,” I told him. “I’m great.”

  “Me too,” he said. “More than great.”

  He wrapped his arm around me, and we lay in bed together for a while, not talking, just breathing.

  I thought about you, then, for a little. Thought about how everything was different with Darren. But I didn’t fall apart. I didn’t break.

  Maybe it takes a man to get over a man—or maybe he was helping put me back together.

  xxxii

  It’s always telling to see unmarried couples together at weddings. There are the ones who act extra loving, wrapping their arms around each other while they watch their friends speak their vows. And then there are the ones who stare straight ahead during the ceremony, not acknowledging their other half, and then proceed to get far too drunk on the dance floor. They look like they’re having a good time, but I think on the inside they’re probably miserable. Sometimes weddings are too much to handle when you’re not secure in your own relationship.

  Darren and I hadn’t been dating that long—about three months—when I got Jason and Vanessa’s wedding invitation in the mail. Jay had told me that I could bring a guest if I wanted, or not, if I wanted. A guy, if I wanted, or Kate or Alexis or Julia if I wanted. Whatever would make me the happiest.

  I talked to Kate for hours about this. She offered to come, of course. But the idea of being at my brother’s wedding with my childhood best friend instead of a boyfriend made my insides flip. I could imagine my parents’ friends’ looks of pity, and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of those.

  I contemplated going alone, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hold it together the whole night without someone next to me. You and I had been broken up for seven months at that point, but I still couldn’t talk about you without my voice catching. I still avoided eating waffles.

  “Take Darren,” Kate kept saying.

  I wasn’t sure. “It’s only been three months,” I told her. “I don’t know how long this is going to last.”

  “Only three months?” she parroted back at me. “How long did you date Gabe before you two moved in together?”

  “That was different,” I said. “We’d known each other before.” And we loved each other like crazy, I finished in my head. Darren was great, but it wasn’t the same.

  “Hmph,” she said over the phone, sounding like someone’s old conservative aunt. “Do you have fun with Darren?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you’d have fun at your brother’s wedding with him?”

  I thought about it. “Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Case closed. Invite him.”

  I waited another month, until the day before my brother and Vanessa needed the head count for the venue. Then I asked him.

  “Really?” he said. “Your brother’s wedding?”

  I felt my face turn hot. In all my conversations with Kate, I’d always assumed that Darren would want to go. “You don’t want to?” I asked.

  “No, no!” he said. “I absolutely want to. Yes, I’d love to go to your brother’s wedding. Thank you for inviting me.” Then he smiled his most genuinely happy smile. The one that looks almost exactly like someone drew a perfect half circle and filled it with two rows of teeth.

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “I think we’ll have fun.”

  He tapped his finger against his lips. “You said one month, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I know this sounds ridiculous,” he said, “but I think it’s a sign.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  He poked his hand into his briefcase and pulled out a colorful flyer. “For this!” he said, handing it over. “Someone was giving them out today at the subway stop near my office, and something in me said not to throw it away. It must be providence.”

  The paper he’d handed me was a coupon for fifty percent off four weeks’ worth of couples dance classes. Learn to Foxtrot, Cha-Cha, Tango, and Jive!

  I started to laugh. “You really want to do this?” I asked him. Never in a million years would you suggest something like this.

  “To be honest,” he said, “I’m not the very best dancer, but I think this could be hilarious. And fifty percent off! Who can pass up a deal like that?”

  He shrugged, and something about the way his shoulders went up to his ears touched my heart. I kissed him. Then I slid my arm around his shoulders and leaned my head against his head. And it felt so good.

  • • •

  AFTER OUR FOUR WEEKS of dance classes we weren’t much better than when we started. We might have actually been the worst students in the class, but we also might have been the two people having the best time. We cracked up so often that the teacher shushed us all class long, and during the tango lesson she told us we’d have to leave if we couldn’t take dancing seriously.

  • • •


  AT THE WEDDING I stood in a line with the rest of the bridesmaids and kept an eye on Darren as the ceremony progressed. He kept looking at his program and at me and once in a while at Jason and Vanessa.

  As soon as the reception started, Darren pulled me onto the dance floor and we attempted to foxtrot and tango and cha-cha, tripping over each other’s feet and laughing. Mid-cha-cha, my heel caught on the back of my gown and I pitched forward, tumbling into Darren’s arms.

  “Well,” he said, “that’s one way to get dipped.” And then after he helped me back to a standing position, he knelt down and freed my skirt from my heel.

  “Thanks,” I said to him, as I gathered the fabric in one hand and pulled it up so I wouldn’t trip over it again.

  “An honor, milady,” he said. I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped through my nose.

  “So,” my uncle George said from where he was standing next to us, taking pictures with one of the disposable cameras Vanessa had placed around the room, “are you two next?”

  I felt my face flush and looked over at Darren, hoping that talk like that five months in wasn’t going to freak him out, because it absolutely freaked me out. But he just smiled and said, “If I’m lucky.”

  I stilled the panic in my heart. I wasn’t ready to think about the future yet. But I couldn’t help thinking that whatever woman ended up with Darren would be lucky. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be me.

  xxxiii

  Valentine’s Day has always struck me as odd. Even in elementary school, when we had to write cards for everyone in the class and leave them in heart-shaped construction-paper mailboxes we’d put together with staples and glue. I’d painstakingly decide which Peanuts valentine to give each person in the class—Snoopy or Charlie Brown or, my favorite, Lucy, because we shared a name and a hairstyle back then. Only my closest friends got the Lucy cards.

  Then as an adult it became one of those holidays like New Year’s Eve and July Fourth that felt like it was supposed to be so fantastic that the expectation always ruined whatever it was you did that night. And you stood there in a too-crowded bar or lay on a blanket staring up at a cloudy night sky thinking: I’m supposed to be having more fun than this.