Last-Minute Love (Year of the Chick series)

by Moondi, Romi

  “Hey!” I looked away and frowned.

  “Am I wrong? Have you been out much?” He pulled on the pom-pom of my hat and tried not to laugh.

  I pushed his hand away. “Fine, I haven’t. But I’m trying to fix that!”

  “I know you are, because when I met you last year and we went on that boat tour, I remember you said you hadn’t lived much.” He paused and his pale blue eyes probed deep through his black-rimmed glasses. It was as hypnotizing as ever. “I may not have time to show you the whole world in one weekend...but I’ll definitely show you something.”

  It was freezing cold but I melted on the spot as he kissed me slowly, holding my mittened paws in his gloveless hands. When our lips parted I was left in a dizzying haze and I wanted more. But this wasn’t the time for that. This was the time for...adventure? I wasn’t sure. All I knew for certain was this place was unfamiliar and I wasn’t in control; not in control of geography, of my feelings, of anything. I only hoped that Erik had a better grip on things, as he led me down the virtually deserted beach, so I could finally say hello to the ocean.

  We spent some time walking along the shore lit up by the bright afternoon sun, kicking sand and making conversation which had nothing to do with saying goodbye. Thank god.

  Without any warning he randomly stopped. So I did too. He then turned my body to face the crashing waves.

  “Look at it,” he said.

  I smiled. “I am!”

  He planted his feet beside me and stared straight ahead as well. “Now listen, because I want to talk to you about something.”

  Every cell in my body froze.

  Oh no. The “what happens when we say goodbye” talk?

  “What’s up?” I said, trying my best to sound calm.

  “Remember last night, when you explained how there’s Chinese computer programmers inside our brains, trying to kill any moments that are illogical? Like you and me hanging out?”

  My cells began to unfreeze and I found myself smirking. “Yeah?”

  “Well I wanted to share my new theory with you, which completely discredits yours.”

  I was suddenly very interested, but I continued to focus on the waves. “You’re opposing me? I’ll out-rule you of course, but go on.”

  He sighed. “The thing is Romi...it’s little elves who live inside our brains, NOT the Asian computer programmers.”

  I tried hard not to laugh. “Okay...”

  He put his arm around my shoulder. “Please. Envision with me.” We continued to watch the rolling waves as he went on. “The little elves aren’t too different from the elves in Santa’s workshop.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh my god...”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge! These elves are in our brains from birth, and they know everything about our hopes, dreams, and desires. Just like Santa’s elves know what every kid truly wants, from the wish-lists they receive in the mail!” I looked at him curiously as he went on. “With all this secret knowledge, the elves work tirelessly to bring our dreams into reality. Every day they are trying to build the right scenario, all so that we may encounter what we most desire.”

  My eyes suddenly widened. “It’s like they’re building the perfect doll or toy truck!”

  He finally turned to face me. “Yes! The only problem is...sometimes we don’t appreciate the gift when it’s right in front of us, or sometimes....it gets lost.”

  I frowned. “That must really piss off the brain-elves.”

  “It does. They’ll try to build something new...but some things can’t be replaced.” He looked at me fondly as I finally understood what he meant.

  No big-eared elf in the world could ever build me a replacement Erik.

  So how do I make him stay?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Erik and I spent the rest of the day navigating bumpy hiking trails, visiting the town’s famous lighthouse, and heading back to the beach to observe a majestic sunset not obscured by man-made structures. The shore around the lighthouse was a contrasting sight to the beach, with rocks upon rocks clustered together in a jigsaw puzzle. Staring up at that giant structure was a view I wouldn’t soon forget, as up until then I’d only ever seen a lighthouse as a logo on a box of frozen battered fish (which is the only kind of fish you’ll ever find me eating...and even then I’ll demand extra tartar sauce).

  The only awkward moment in the day had occurred when Erik insisted on giving me a piggy-back ride along the beach. I wrapped my arms around his neck and was all set to giggle like a schoolgirl, but he dropped me after only five steps because newsflash: I’m sort of tall and a little curvy. This left me with grains of sand up my nostrils, and Erik stripped of all his manly pride. We made a pact to never speak of it again.

  In the village now, with old-fashioned street lamps lighting our way and creaky wooden planks beneath our feet, Erik led me to what looked like a charming seaside residence. Except for the sign out front that said “RESTAURANT” in big bold letters, with a logo of a fish riding high off a wave.

  A fish?

  I gripped Erik’s hand a little tighter as we went inside.

  ***

  I was sweating.

  I was in a restaurant...sweating.

  By now both layers of my sweaters were hanging on the back of my chair, leaving me as the only woman in this restaurant who was scandalous enough to wear a tank top.

  This “mom and pop” seafood restaurant was full of charm, from its handmade wooden tables to the strings of twinkly lights, which cast a warm yellow glow on all the patrons’ smiling faces.

  In my case though, the lights just reflected off my sweaty face.

  I looked at Erik with pleading eyes, but so far he wouldn’t budge. “You don’t understand,” I said. “I don’t even know what a ‘clam’ is! Seafood just isn’t me.”

  Erik leaned across the table and massaged my shoulder. “You can’t decide to never try seafood because you had a sushi incident fifteen years ago.”

  What the...

  “Yes, I know all about it,” he said. “You mentioned it in your book, remember?”

  Did I?

  “But how do you know I didn’t make it up?” I said defensively.

  “Well...we’re sitting in a seafood restaurant, and you’re sweating.”

  Damn him and his broadening of my horizons!

  I took a long sip of wine. And then another one.

  “Why do you care so much if I try new things?” I suddenly said.

  “Because I know it’s what you secretly want, you’ve just always been too afraid.”

  Just then, the overweight and overly-friendly East coast waiter came to our table, with two big bowls of Atlantic clam chowder.

  “Enjoy!” he said loudly as he waddled away.

  I was too afraid to even smell what was in the bowl, so I stopped breathing out of my nose, as Erik stirred it slowly while saying “Mmm.”

  Bastard.

  I squirmed in my seat, with my eyes on the nearest exit. When my gaze switched back to Erik I saw him enjoying spoonful after spoonful.

  Cautiously, I took a first sniff into the bowl.

  Hmm...vegetables, bacon...it sure doesn’t smell like fish.

  I made sure he wasn’t looking and took a tiny spoonful.

  To my surprise, it didn’t taste at all like someone had shoved a trout dripping with seawater down my throat.

  I took a bigger bite, tasting potato and a small unfamiliar “round thingy.”

  Was that “round thingy” a clam? I think I just ate a clam. And I didn’t die!

  I smiled and continued eating the delicious chowder, almost forgetting that Erik was even there.

  When I looked up between spoonfuls I saw him smiling with his arms crossed.

  I scowled. “Don’t look so smug.”

  “Just wait ‘til the main entrée,” he said. “A big fillet poached in butter and a little garlic, oh yes!”

  Just like that my nervous sweat-fest resumed...

  ***<
br />
  Back outside now, full of fish and a little too much alcohol, I smiled and stumbled my way to Erik.

  “Thanks for helping me with the fish phobia, but please don’t tell me I have to wrestle a snake now.”

  He laughed as he stroked my hair. “We’ll save that for another day.”

  It was a simple phrase that brought me back to reality. What other day?

  “Well I had a great time,” I quickly said. “Thank you!”

  “Hold on now, there’s one more stop to go.”

  I grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. “But it’s almost eleven o’ clock.”

  He smiled. “And your flight is at seven a.m. So relax.”

  Airplane. Leaving. Never seeing Erik again. I was starting to feel sick, but Erik didn’t seem to notice.

  “Before we make the final pit-stop, I need something from the restaurant. Actually it should be ready now. Wait here.”

  Was he picking up some fish for an early breakfast? This was getting out of hand now.

  He disappeared inside and returned a few moments later, only now with a thermos in his hand.

  My eyes widened. “You took clam chowder TO GO? And they’re letting you keep a thermos?!” I grabbed it from him. “These things are like twenty bucks...”

  He laughed. “What can I say, I charmed them. And it’s not clam chowder, okay? Wait and see.”

  He led me back to the car, but after only a few minutes of driving through the now-deserted village, I could tell he was a little lost.

  “Hmm...” he said, as he made a second U-turn.

  “What exactly are you looking for?” I asked.

  He ignored me and drove on, with all the faux-confidence of a man who’d never ask for directions.

  A few minutes later he pulled to a stop on a gravelly road. “Here we are.”

  I looked around for a clue, but all I saw were beach houses, most of them looking abandoned since it was winter, after all.

  “Do you own a beach house?” I asked.

  “No I do not. Now come on.” He climbed out of the car without even looking back.

  I followed him out but I was feeling very confused by now. “Erik, I think those are private beaches.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Well the park is closed and I don’t know where the other public beaches are at. This will be fine though.”

  I frowned. “So...we’re breaking and entering?”

  He tried not to laugh. “Just relax and put on your nice warm hat. Then I’ll show you the surprise in my trunk.”

  After taking a second to realize he hadn’t said “surprise in my trunks,” I remembered how he’d banned me from looking in his trunk when he’d picked me up.

  Suddenly I pieced it together.

  His guitar!!! He’s playing me a song...on the beach...under starlight. HOLY CRAP!!!

  “Are you okay?” he asked, as I stood there beaming like a psycho.

  “Sure I am, now open ‘er up.”

  He popped it open, and underneath my luggage I saw...a folded lounge chair. And a blanket. No guitar.

  I slumped my shoulders, but he didn’t seem to notice with his face buried deep in the trunk. “Just ask yourself this,” he said, as he managed to pull out the blanket. “Have you ever laid down under a canvas of stars, with the rhythm of the ocean waves as your soundtrack?”

  Actually, I definitely haven’t...

  ***

  I craned my neck in the direction of the beach house, but Erik quickly snuggled me back into the blanket, on this lounge chair two bodies somehow shared.

  “Relax!” he said. “Nobody’s going to arrest us.”

  He sat up and reached for the thermos, pouring another cup of what was the best hot chocolate I’d ever had.

  I stayed where I was, staring up at a million stars on a cloudless night. In my lifetime of limited geographic exploration, this was easily the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. If I became too aware of it though I would cry, and that was the one thing I wanted to avoid on my temporary break from reality.

  Time to switch gears.

  “I can’t believe this chair didn’t break,” I said.

  “You mean after the piggy-back incident?”

  I slapped him on the thigh. “I told you to never speak of that!”

  I sat right up and stole the cup from him, taking a long sip before reclining back into position.

  “Erik, what’s your opinion on stars?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well...do you think since all the humans in the world see the same set of stars, it means we’re all really close together, so actual ‘ground distance’ doesn’t matter?”

  He slid back down the chair and we were face-to-face. “I think that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

  I smiled. “Thank god! I was afraid you’d get all existential on me.”

  “The only existence I know is the one where two people can connect, and stars don’t really help you in that way. They don’t help you to reach someone,” he stroked the side of my face, “to feel them. For that you need to be close.”

  I did my best to think of something funny so I wouldn’t tear up. Borat in a slingshot bathing suit. I turned away and held back a smile so it must’ve worked.

  “Romi...”

  I was afraid of what he might say so I decided to take the reins. “Why did you come to New York in the first place? You never told me.” He looked a bit uncomfortable which was exactly where I needed him to be. Better you than me. Besides it was a legitimate question. “I mean...you had your kick-ass job...your friends and family close by...you were in a relationship...you were finally at that age when guys stop being immature losers,” I elbowed him lightly, “it was the perfect time to settle down!”

  He turned his head and stared up at the stars. “To be honest...that job didn’t just come up. I’d been looking for a job abroad for months. And I’d been doing that because...the idea of staying exactly where I was....well it made me wonder if my life had run out of adventures.”

  In that one sentence I understood him more than in the whole last year.

  I gazed at the seamless sky. “I’ve been feeling the same way. Only for me it’s like I’m ten years behind the curve compared to everybody else!” I sighed. “I don’t even know if there’s time to catch up on all this ‘living,’ because...what if I’m so busy being selfish, that I miss my actual window on sharing a life with someone? I do still want that, you know...” I trailed off, suddenly terrified by what the future might hold or wouldn’t hold.

  He wrapped the blanket tightly around us and faced me, his pale blue eyes searching deep. “Maybe what we’ve both realized this weekend, is that you don’t have to be alone to have your adventures,” he said. “You can share them.”

  As his warm lips met mine it blocked out the cold night air, and I wondered if I could stuff him in my suitcase and bring him home...

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Three a.m.

  Erik parked the car on a side street by his apartment. I watched him pull my luggage out of the trunk, since I’d made him promise we’d say goodbye here instead of at the airport. That would kill me.

  As he closed the trunk I took a quick scan of my surroundings, where I noticed two drunk girls clambering out of a cab, an annoyed-looking cab driver, and a curious old woman wandering the streets at this ungodly hour. That’s when I knew for sure: Erik wasn’t the only thing I could see or hear anymore; the rest of reality was creeping in, and I hated it.

  Outside Erik’s apartment, I remembered walking down that corridor last May after saying goodbye. I really didn’t think I’d ever see that almost-stranger again, but somehow here we were. I just wasn’t sure if we’d ever be that lucky again.

  Erik opened the door and switched on the light, but his place looked nothing like the apartment I remembered. Walls were bare of posters, guitars and recording equipment were gone...there wasn’t even any furniture, apart for one simple folding chair facing the telev
ision.

  “Wow,” I said quietly. “You really are leaving, aren’t you?”

  He smiled briefly but said nothing as he helped me with my coat.

  “Let me get you a chair,” he said.

  He disappeared into his bedroom and returned with one more chair. He positioned it to face the first one. “Sit.”

  He took a seat in the other chair and stared at me.

  This is what it all comes down to.

  “So,” he said.

  “So....”

  We laughed.

  “Why do I suddenly feel like the party’s over?” I said.

  He stared at me fondly, but his expression quickly changed. “Do you want to watch some Conan O’Brien? I recorded it.”

  It wasn’t the line I’d been expecting, but I didn’t mind deflecting reality for a little longer. Two more hours and twenty minutes, to be exact. Not to mention that he liked my favourite late-night host.

  I nodded and moved my chair to face the television.

  “Actually,” he said. “No, this won’t work.” I watched him curiously as he rose from his chair and scanned the empty apartment. “These chairs suck. I’ll get the mattress.”

  “I’ll help!”

  I followed him to his bedroom, which by now was just a room full of different piles of clothes, two suitcases, and a mattress. I grabbed one side of the mattress, and when I turned around to re-position myself, I saw it. A normal eye would’ve missed it, but my psycho eye saw the edges peeking out from behind his closet door.

  I dropped the mattress carelessly, heading straight for the hidden object before he could stop me. When I turned around he was already shaking his head “no.”

  “Pleeeease?” I begged, as I held up his acoustic guitar. “Please, please, please, please...PLEASE!”

  “Romi, I can’t perform under pressure.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”