by Janette Rallison, Heather B. Moore, Luisa Perkins, Sarah M. Eden, Annette Lyon, Lisa Mangum
“Yeah,” Mark said, wishing he could change the future.
“Are you sure you want my number? Ten days isn’t much.”
The pit in his stomach turned to a bitter taste in his mouth. “You can’t really leave,” he insisted. Part of that was because of her insane dancing ability, but there was also the connection between them. Surely she’d felt it. But he went for what he guessed would be the stronger argument: what had first brought her here.
“You have so much talent.” He stepped closer. She shook her head, which made him put a hand out and cup her cheek to stop her denial. She didn’t pull away. Their eyes caught, and they gazed at each other for several seconds before he found his voice. “What about everything you told me about sticking with it, that someday it’ll work out?”
“That wasn’t about me. It was about you.” Dani reached for his hand and lowered it, now holding it in both of hers, as if bringing his idea back down to reality. “I’m out of money. I’m out of time. I—” Her voice cut off as if she wasn’t sure what to say.
He knew the feeling. He took a step closer to her; she didn’t move away. “Can I still have your number?” It was almost a whisper.
She didn’t answer for a second; her eyes were shiny from unshed tears. She sniffed and then nodded, pulling her phone from her purse. “What’s yours? I’ll text you so you’ll have mine.”
Relieved at the small success, Mark rattled off his number, and she punched it into her phone. A moment later, his phone trilled in his pocket, and when he checked it, her text was there with a kissy-face emoticon. He wished he dared take her up on the suggestion, but she was probably joking.
He tucked it back into his pocket and rocked on his heels. “Are you free tomorrow? I’d like to take you out to lunch at this awesome place in Grand Central Station.”
“I’d like that,” she said with a nod. “Text me in the morning.”
“I will,” he said, then took two steps back, letting her know that he wouldn’t keep her longer.
She put her key in the door, smiled over her shoulder, and went inside.
Mark swiped the screen of his phone and typed his first text to Dani. It consisted entirely of one thing: the same emoticon of a kissing smiley face.
He wasn’t kidding.
He hurried to work, walking with fast strides down the increasingly crowded sidewalk to reach the subway in time to catch the right train. Not once did he think about dealing with Andre; all of his thoughts were focused on Dani and how he could possibly convince her to stay in the city long enough to give both her career and him a real chance.
Over the next week, Dani saw Mark every day for at least an hour or two— and often for a lot longer than that. One day they went to the Statue of Liberty and then to the 9/11 Memorial. On another, they got up really early and managed to be part of the crowd outside the Today show at Rockefeller Center. Dani got to shake Al Roker’s hand. Then they wandered around Rock Center, taking it all in. Mark bought her a Seinfeld poster of Kramer that completely cracked her up.
As the days wore on, she crossed more and more things off her first-and-last list: browsing in Tiffany’s, even though she could never afford anything in there. Being in the studio audience of a Tonight Show taping. Mark took her to a few places she’d never even heard of. In addition to the place he’d already promised in Grand Central— where he’d insisted she try some oyster dish— he brought her to The View, a restaurant at the top of a skyscraper, so high that on the way up in the glass elevator, her ears popped. Inside, the tables were on a carpeted ring that slowly rotated— one full circle every hour. Between trips to the buffet, patrons could look out and spot various landmarks, like the Chrysler building.
Every day, they laughed and talked. Some days, they busked— Dani enjoyed it more now, even after becoming aware of the audience. She’d taken to singing as well as dancing, and sometimes Mark sang along, harmonizing with her. They used the proceeds to pay for dinner, a meal they shared almost every night now that Mark had been fired from yet another job. He swore he’d get another one soon, but he didn’t want to miss out on their little remaining time together.
At times, she considered staying in Manhattan after all; if she could be this happy all the time, why wouldn’t she? Except for the fact that the only reason Mark was being so nice was because their relationship, such as it was, had an expiration date. If she were to stay, her life wouldn’t be a constant stream of experiencing new things with Mark at her side. Eventually, they would both return to reality. He’d return to temp jobs and auditions. He wouldn’t have time to hang out with her. And she’d be right where she’d been the day they met: alone penniless, rejected, and eventually, heading home to Pekin. What was the point of delaying the inevitable?
As great as the last week-and-a-half had been, and as happy as Dani felt to be crossing items off her list, she couldn’t help but notice with regret how close her departure date was drawing. Every night, she took her wall calendar off its nail and wrote down that day’s activities. Then she counted the boxes left until she headed home. They were vanishing awfully fast.
Worse, Mark seemed determined to bring up the fact that technically, she didn’t have to leave. And he did so every time they said good night.
“It’s only the cost of a flight,” he said more than once.
Other times it was along the lines of, “You haven’t sold your lease. You still have a place to live.”
Or, “Come on. Give your career another shot.”
Dani always brushed off whichever version he’d used. Her mother’s daily emails and calls had beaten her down enough. She’d already started imagining her life back at home, maybe using her degree to teach high-school theater or something.
At her apartment door, she always gave him a long hug— their hugs were growing longer every night. She wanted to give him more than a hug, but that would be asking for trouble. Getting her emotions mixed up in something temporary— more than they already were— would be a mess.
On Monday, her last night in Manhattan, they walked back to her place extra slowly. They’d gotten into the habit of having Mark walk with her up to the apartment door, where they’d chat until he insisted she needed her sleep and then, of course, make another argument for why she should stay. Often as they leaned their backs against the wall, they’d end up sliding to the floor and sitting there talking for far longer than they should have.
As much as Dani loved sharing her first-and-last list with Mark, she’d come to enjoy their talks even more, except for how they always ended. That night, as they walked up the last flight of stairs, she dreaded having a final debate with him on what she wanted to be a magical conclusion to this part of her life. She still held her keys after using them on the front door. She hadn’t put them back into her purse, because she didn’t know if he’d want to talk about art and books when they both knew this was their last evening together.
Just as she’d feared, when they reached her door, he didn’t strike up a conversation about music or movies or anything else they normally talked about. Instead, he grew quiet, as if he’d run out of things to say even about the Broadway show they’d just come from. She gripped her keys in one hand. A metal edge dug into her palm. The pain provided a distraction from the ache in her heart.
He didn’t have to say why neither of them was talking; they both knew. They’d had a final day of adventures, and this was their last goodnight. She’d already packed her two suitcases, and all that remained to pack was her carryon. Last week, she’d shipped home a few boxes filled with things she’d collected in the last six months that hadn’t fit into her bags.
As she stood at her door, she could picture the suitcases her mother had bought her for Christmas, which were bright red so they’d be easy to spot on the luggage carousel. They represented her failure here in the city and a dull, lifeless future.
Mom should have bought gray.
Mark stepped closer, and then closer again. She could feel the h
eat of his body, and her heart staccatoed.
The image of those blasted suitcases forced themselves into her mind again. They marked the end of what could have been a wonderful thing with Mark.
No, not what could have been. What had been wonderful.
Eyes burning and insides tightening, she ordered herself to hold back her emotions. Don’t cry. You can still text Mark from four states and one time zone away. You can still email and call.
But what were the chances a long-distance relationship would survive, when their time in person had existed for a matter of days? When both of them had purposely kept a slight, if deliberate, distance between them? It was as if they’d both instinctively known what could have been.
Now, with her head lowered, she watched as he took both of her hands in his. The keys tumbled from her grip back into her purse. He’d moved so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She knew without any doubt that if she looked up at him, their lips would meet. A kiss would be inevitable.
And oh, how she wanted that very thing. But two weeks from now, would she regret having kissed him, when she was home, driving past corn fields instead of exploring Times Square?
“You’re trembling,” Mark said, his voice soft, tender. He released one hand and cupped her face as he’d done before, but this time his thumb stroked her cheek. It was almost too much to bear. It felt so good it hurt.
“Why did I have to meet you at the end?” she said quietly, still looking down. Seeing his face would break her. “Why not in January, when things could have been different?”
He didn’t answer, as if he was waiting for her to act or speak. After several seconds of silence, she finally lifted her face to his, if only to wait for him to speak. In spite of her efforts, a tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. “And please don’t say that I could still—”
He stopped her words by pressing his lips to hers, cradling her head between his hands with a sense of urgency.
A rush of heat went through Dani. In spite of herself, she reached up and held his face in return, kissing him back as much as she’d wanted to every day they’d been together. She poured all of her wishes and dreams into that kiss, and he returned every bit of it.
At last they broke apart, and Dani rested her cheek against his shoulder, catching her breath. Half of her wondered what kind of awful thing she’d done. The other half wanted to explode with happiness because even though she was leaving, at least she’d had that kiss.
She could feel Mark’s heart pounding in his chest and knew that if she didn’t get through her apartment door soon, she’d want to kiss him again and again and—
“I— I have to go,” she murmured, gently pushing away. She didn’t want to release her hands from his chest to let him go, but she forced herself to and somehow got the key into the lock.
She opened the door, went inside, and looked back at Mark. He had his hands in his pockets, and his expression looked as forlorn and lost as she felt.
“Thank you for everything,” she whispered, and closed the door.
That night, Dani hardly slept; she stared at the ceiling. At her now-empty dresser. At her ugly red suitcases. At the window, where she gazed and imagined Mark sleeping in his apartment in the distance. She managed a couple of hours of unsettled sleep and woke an hour before her alarm.
She got up, ate a granola bar, and took a shower. She didn’t have the heart to work on her appearance. What did it matter now? She pulled her hair into a ponytail and applied only the barest amount of makeup— a little concealer under her eyes so her parents wouldn’t worry about her health, and some mascara, for the same reason; she tended to look extra tired without it.
Trying not to think of the kiss from last night— but reliving it every few minutes anyway— she finished packing up her carryon. She strapped the two suitcases together, the smaller atop the larger, and shouldered her carryon and purse. On the way to the door, she left her key on the counter next to the fridge, looked back at her three sleeping roommates— women she hardly knew even after six months— and walked out, rolling her luggage behind her.
The apartment door clanged shut and echoed against the apartment corridor as Dani made her way past the very spot where Mark had kissed her. Where she’d kissed him back.
At the elevator, she pushed the button, then, as she waited for it to arrive, she couldn’t help but turn and look back at where she’d last seen Mark. All of his arguments seemed to clamor in her mind, yelling at her all at once. Accusing her of abandoning her dreams. Of giving in to her mother’s cynicism and insistence on a traditional role.
Of not giving us a real chance.
If they’d met even two months ago— one month ago?— things might have been different. If they’d met before she’d given her all and failed. Before she’d lost the spark that her childhood dreams had once given her. The spark wasn’t dead, but it had dimmed an awful lot in six months.
The elevator dinged, and the door opened. She pulled her luggage inside, punched the button for the lobby, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and wishing she could rewind time enough to relive the last week and a half she’d spent with Mark. Better yet, to go back further and try to find him earlier. To do… something that would change the inevitable outcome of two strangers meeting, only to find a spark that had no hope of lasting.
Before stepping off the elevator, she instinctively reached for her pocket to check for her phone, and with the habitual act came a rush of memories— of her first text to Mark, and his reciprocal kissy face in return.
Of their actual kiss last night.
She pulled her phone out and stared at it, trying to decide whether to send him one last text before she caught a taxi and headed for the airport. But the memory of Mark’s devastated face, his desperate kiss filled with emotion, made her slip the phone back into her pocket. Mark was probably asleep— and sleeping well. She’d treated him poorly. Of course he’d be angry. He’d spent a lot of time with her. He’d spent what money he had on her. And now she was walking away. He had every right to be angry, even though she’d told him on their very first day that she wouldn’t be here long.
The wheels of her luggage clicked on the seams of the lobby’s tile but then stopped as her step slowed before the doors. She didn’t want to leave. The last ten days had made New York feel like home in a way it never had in the previous weeks and months.
She’d miss everything about it, from the steam rising from the subway vents in the colder months to the heat radiating off the asphalt in the summer. The sheer energy everyone and everything exuded. The knowledge that people had walked this ground for centuries before her— many in the early years of the last century as they looked for a new life as they passed through Ellis Island.
She’d come here looking for a better life too— or at least, a different one. The day she’d headed for the Met, she’d been certain that after a few weeks back home, she’d be perfectly content to stay in the Midwest with her family. Perhaps she’d do community theater productions at times, just to scratch the itch. That would be enough. Or so she’d thought.
Go, or you’ll miss your flight, she ordered herself.
Somehow that thought got her feet moving again, but as she reached for the door, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She paused and stepped back, pulling it out.
It was from Mark. A kissy face, with the words, Have a good flight.
Dani looked at the emoticon for what felt like a long time, until it got blurry from unshed tears, and she finally slipped her phone back into her pocket. He might as well have said, Have a good life. They both knew it was over.
Not trusting herself to keep her tears at bay, she wiped at her eyes to dry them completely then headed for the doors again. This time she pushed the automatic button, and the door slowly swung open on its own. She walked outside into the dim morning of Manhattan. Everything seemed gray, and though it was probably just the early morning light filtering through the buildings, it seemed lik
e a reflection of her inner state— gray and dreary. But, unlike the city, her state wouldn’t change as the minutes ticked by with the dawn, bringing the sun with it.
Dani went to the curb and raised her arm to call a taxi. But a deep voice called out to her.
“Going to the museum today?”
She whirled around to see Mark standing outside her building. She’d walked right past him. Her mind refused to work. “How long have you— what are you doing— why—” Her voice cut off as he stepped closer. He had rings under his eyes; her brow furrowed. “Have you been here all night?”
He shook his head, and she realized he wasn’t wearing the same clothes as before. Silly of her to think he’d be out here waiting all night long. Her mom was right; her head was stuffed with cotton.
“I went back to my place, but I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been here since about four— didn’t want to miss saying goodbye… for real.”
Her eyes stung at that— their goodbye, their last words last night, weren’t a good way to part. But that kiss…
She looked at her watch; it was time to go if she was going to make her flight. “Mark, I have to—”
“No.” He shook his head once and stepped closer. “Don’t.” Like last night, only slower, softer, he took her face between both of his hands. She tilted her head back and gazed into his eyes, lost in the moment and forgetting about JFK and her flight entirely, at least for a moment.
He looked into her eyes and raised his brows as if asking for permission. When her eyes lowered to his lips, he took that as an answer— which it was— and closed the distance. He kissed her slowly at first, and then deeper.
When he pulled back— too soon— he rested his forehead against hers. Dani’s breath was uneven, and her legs trembled. She couldn’t have held a solid relevé if her life depended on it. But slowly the world stopped spinning, and reality settled again.