Lost on the Way

by Isabel Jolie

  “So, how are y’all doin’?” Ollie shouts above the restaurant noise. Jason rests his arm behind my chair and looks to me, as he always does, to answer. He’s such an introvert. If it’s a small group, like me, Sam, and him, he’ll actively participate in the conversation. In a big group like this, forget about it. He’s going to be silent unless someone draws him into a one-on-one conversation. But he’ll listen to everything. After we leave, there won’t be anything that was said that he’s not aware of.

  Anna sits to my right, and she and I are getting to know one another while Jason reads the menu as if it’s a riveting suspense novel. The waiter stops by for the drink order, and I order a Bloody Mary. Jason adds, “We’ll both have the Bloody BLT, but she doesn’t want the egg.”

  The waiter moves on down the table, and Jason dips down, his mouth close enough to my ear that I feel the warmth of his breath. My muscles tense, and I lean into him, tucked in to his side. “Do you want to split?”

  “Sure. What are you thinking?” Unlike Jason, I haven’t been studying the menu, but we often split meals, especially in places like this where the portions are enormous and loaded with fat and grease.

  “Either the hot chicken biscuit or the chicken, bacon, egg, and cheese. Without the egg, if you don’t want it.” He angles his menu so I can read the description. This place specializes in fried chicken biscuits, and there’s something about the hot sauce that’s calling to me. I point at that, and he nods confirmation.

  Anna reaches across the table and taps Jackson to pull him out of his conversation with Sam and Ollie. “They’re splitting. Do you want to split too?”

  Right at that moment, the waiter delivers a platter of an extensive variety of pickles to the table, sliced pickled okra, and deviled eggs.

  Jackson sets his beer down and picks up the small plates to spread around the table and tells her, “Yeah, we can share.”

  Ollie jabs Sam’s shoulder. “You’re tough out of luck on the sharing, dude. I’m eating a full order. This is my kinda place. Shoulda brought your own senorita.”

  Jason withdraws his arm from behind my chair and rests his elbows on the table. Yara comes bounding in, out of breath, loudly apologizing for being late. She takes the empty seat across from Chase at the end of the table. Every now and then I peer down to their end of the table, curious as to how she’s doing, since she and Chase don’t know each other. The conversation seems to be flowing, so I assume she’s doing fine. It’s possible he’s flirting with her, which is amusing, given he doesn’t have the anatomy she prefers.

  Dinner arrives, and Jason artfully cuts the biscuit in half and places his half onto a small appetizer plate, giving me the entree plate and all of the cheese grits. At my insistence that he try them, he leans over and plunges his fork into the melted cheesy goodness. He tastes a small amount, then goes back for a fork full. After swallowing, he licks his lips and nods his approval. From that point on, our forks are in a competition to clean out the bowl first.

  During dinner, I learn that Anna knew both Jackson and Chase back at Chapel Hill when she was in undergraduate school and they were roommates in grad school. Jackson is now a lawyer, and he works with Sam. Anna tells me Sam and Jackson are becoming good friends. Anna also shares that she’s excited because her old roommate has recently moved back to the States. She’s going to be in the MBA program and is at some orientation program tonight. I tap Jason on his arm.

  “Anna’s old roommate is going to be a student at Columbia. Do you think you’ll teach her?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Don’t you teach in the business school?”

  “Some.”

  “You should meet up with Olivia. Help her get oriented.” He rolls his eyes. Literally rolls his eyes, as if what I am suggesting is ludicrous. I open my mouth in mock outrage, and Anna just laughs.

  “It’s okay. I’m sure Olivia has it under control. She moved to Europe on her own and rocked it. She’s a superstar. Business school will be a no-brainer for her.”

  After we’ve all finished our meals and ordered another round of drinks, Jason gets up to go to the restroom. Anna leans over and asks, “So, how long have you two been together?”

  “Huh? Oh, we’re not together. We’re just friends.”

  Her brows come together, and she turns her whole body so she’s facing me. “Really? You two act like an old couple.”

  Sam chuckles. “It’s only a matter of time.” He points a finger at Ollie and says, “We’ve got bets.”

  “Dude, you lost your bet. Your bet was within five years of us meeting her. And we met her their junior year at Dartmouth.”

  I’m a little confused. “Within five years, what?”

  “Within five years you guys would be together. I didn’t put a time cap. And, dude, wasn’t that a hundred dollar bet?”

  Jason returns as Sam grumbles and pulls out a crisp bill for his brother. Ollie’s laughing, then leaning over to explain to Yara and Chase what just happened, gloating over his win. Jason’s standing behind me, and I look up in time to catch him scowling. He leans down and picks up his empty drink.

  “I’m gonna get a beer. You guys want anything?”

  Sam pipes up. “Waiter will be back in a minute.”

  I miss Jason’s response, but Sam smirks at whatever facial cue Jason gave him. He doesn’t say much, but those of us who know him well can read him. After he leaves, Sam turns to Ollie.

  “Double or nothing. Within two years.”

  Ollie raises his eyebrow and grins at me. “This man is the worst loser. He’ll keep betting until he loses his shirt.”

  Ollie flashes his crisp new hundred-dollar bill in the air and shouts across the restaurant to Jason, “Dude, you owe Sam a hundred!” Jason turns his back to our rowdy table.

  If they weren’t sitting there betting over whether Jason and I will end up together, I’d laugh and play along. As it is, I’d rather not continue listening to them negotiate time frames and over-under, so I purposefully shift in my chair and focus on Anna.

  Anna is telling me about an upcoming work trip she’s taking to South Africa for National Geographic when she pauses mid-story and stares at the bar. I follow her gaze and see Jason sitting on a stool beside a woman with long dark hair. Under the dimmed golden lights, her hair reminds me of a dark port wine. She’s laughing at something he’s said, and I can’t look away. Jason doesn’t ever socialize like that. He’s not the kind of guy other women laugh with. His back is to me, but his head is bowed down, in what must be a deep or at least captivating conversation.

  The next thing I know, Yara’s standing behind me, blocking my view. She taps my shoulder. “Hey, you ready to head home?”

  “Yeah, but we need to pay.” I swallow, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in my stomach and the numbness spreading across my cheeks and the tips of my fingers.

  “Nah. Sam already picked up the bill for the entire table. We’ll have to make sure we cover him next time.” Sam almost always insists on picking up the entire bill. He’s the founder of a financial services company that went public, and he’s done well. Losing a hundred dollars to his baby brother tonight didn’t affect him in the least.

  After we make our goodbyes, Yara guides me out of the restaurant. I don’t interrupt Jason at the bar. He’ll see I’m gone.

  As soon as we make a left turn out of the restaurant, Yara has her arm around my waist and she pulls me to her side.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Mags,” she says in a deep, scolding tone that communicates drop the bullshit, this is me.

  The night air is chilly, and my nose is dripping from the change in temperature. I inhale deeply through my mouth and exhale.

  “Yeah. It’s good. It’s all good.” Then I pull away from her and push down the pavement. “So, tell me about Chase. I couldn’t hear your end of the table, but you were cracking up.”

  She slaps her hand over he
r forehead and laughs out loud. “Oh, my god. What a player,” she exclaims loudly enough that a guy walking the opposite direction glances our way.

  “Hitting on you?” She waves her hand in the air to indicate maybe. “What did he do?”

  She laughs again, and we continue back to our apartment, arm in arm. She’s had a bit to drink and is fully enamored, recapping the night from her end of the table, and I do my absolute best to hear her.

  Chapter 13

  Jason

  The New Year Without Adam

  Adam passed away in the fall, before the holidays. Maggie and I were both in the same mental space that semester. Not in the mood for loud, smoky frat parties. Too young to frequent bars. We were both in our own kind of funk.

  Thanksgiving and Christmas, we both went home to our individual families. Well, I went to Texas. She went back to her family in Iowa. But, as normal, the Dukes went on a ski vacation. I invited Mags, and she came out after Christmas and joined all of us.

  At that point in time, the Dukes were treating me with kid gloves. They knew I’d had a friend pass away. But they also were with me all summer during my treatments. Knew I had a suppressed immune system.

  Every single time Patti passed me, she’d try to swipe her hand over my forehead to covertly check my temperature. Patti didn’t try to take over my mom’s role, but she couldn’t help doing things like that. She was so much a mom.

  That year, it was funny. Patti knew I’d invited a friend, and that it was a girl. And, you know, it was my second year in college, and she and Sam Senior were fully aware I was on my own. Independent, even though I was a college kid. But Patti, to use Ollie’s words, well, she was a stickler for rules. She led me to one of the unused bedrooms in the ski house they’d rented.

  “This will be for your guest.” She locked eyes with me, then guided me down the hall and down the stairs, to another bedroom that was essentially a bunk room. “This is where you and the boys will stay.” She smiled sweetly then added a stern, “Understand?”

  Of course, I told them all she was just a friend. It didn’t matter how many times I told them. It was like they didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t accept it.

  The thing was, losing Adam crushed Maggie. She wasn’t remotely open to a relationship. No one young should ever die a tragic death. It’s the worst kind of bullshit. In addition to the loss and pain, it shocked you. Recalibrated your sense of the universe with a faulty world order.

  When I picked Maggie up from the Denver airport, it felt like the one person in the world who understood how I was feeling had finally joined me. It wasn’t that the Dukes weren’t great. They were. And they were the closest thing to family I had. I mean, they’d tell you I was family. And they are my family. I’m not saying they aren’t or trying to undercut how important they are to me. But Maggie, when I picked her up at the airport that day, it was like I could breathe again. That’s odd, right? That a friend could have a physical impact?

  But that was what we were to each other. When everybody else wanted to crowd in on a deck for apres-ski, Mags and I would head back. Remove those heavy ski boots, relax in long underwear, and fix ourselves hot chocolate with a small amount of whiskey and heavy on whipped cream. We’d go into the downstairs den, grab a blanket, and cuddle on the leather chesterfield, watching whatever movie or TV show happened to be playing. It didn’t matter. Neither of us felt like talking much, and it was comforting to just be.

  For New Year’s Eve, the Dukes had reservations at The Little Nell. It wasn’t like we’d absolutely have to get dressed up. When skiing, you can get away with casual. But neither Maggie nor I were up for it. The Dukes didn’t press and seemed to understand. They told us if we stood out on the balcony, we could probably see the fireworks.

  That night was the first time Maggie and I kissed. It was before midnight. We’d watched the fireworks, but they went off way earlier. No, we were sitting on the sofa. Watching Times Square.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. What her soft lips felt like. There were no fireworks, but I could swear I heard them going off. Endless explosions. That first kiss, our first kiss. It was tender. Perfect. A perfect kiss to transition from the old into the new. A perfect kiss between friends. Best friends.

  Chapter 14

  Maggie

  The rain pounds on my bedroom window, and I stretch in my warm bed. The dark sky fits my mood. I shift my pillows, creating a tall stack to lean on, with the decorative blanket from the end of the bed pulled up around me for an extra layer of warmth. My plan for the day is to hunker down in bed, doing as little as possible, on this rainy Sunday morning.

  I scroll through text messages as I deliberate leaving my warm cocoon for coffee. It would be so nice if I had a Keurig machine sitting by my bedside. It’s not like I have a long walk to the kitchen. The rental listing for my apartment described it as “cozy,” and every New Yorker knows that’s a euphemism for closet-sized. It’s just the getting out of bed bit that’s holding me back from my morning happiness.

  My thumb hovers over Jason’s messages from last night. You home? Sent at 11:02 p.m. He didn’t go home with her, then. Thank god. That’s what that means, right? What if he texted me, and then went home with her anyway? No, no, his next text, asking about Sunday plans, is at 12:16 a.m., so he definitely didn’t sleep with her. Wait, what if he slept with her between those two texts? My heart hammers through my chest, and frustration rises because I am such a ridiculous fool. This is absurd. He’s going to do what he wants to do. No matter what happened last night, between him and the woman at the bar, I’m still his best friend. I refuse to cry and instead pull the blanket up around me for comfort.

  My finger hovers over the keypad, debating a response, as a knock sounds on my bedroom door.

  “Come in.” I shove the phone under a pillow, hiding it from Yara. I know she must be checking on me, and I’d rather her not figure out I’m rereading short texts that say nothing.

  The door opens at the same time lightning flashes, catching my attention. Seconds later, Jason fills the doorway with water droplets running down his weathered, dark brown Barbour jacket. He shakes his head like a wet dog, and a few drops of water spin into the air. He’s holding two venti coffees, plus a white paper bag that has dark spots in places from the rain. He holds out one coffee.

  “Thought you might not want to go out for coffee this morning.”

  Did you sleep with that woman last night? It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I bite the words back. My hand feels clammy, and I wipe it on my comforter before reaching out to welcome the coffee.

  Jason’s thoughtful. He knows me. Not many people have a friend who would bring them coffee in bed. He’s the holder of my extra apartment key and my emergency contact.

  He comes around all the time. But in this case, I know him well enough to know my nonresponse to his texts is the real reason he’s here. No response isn’t my norm. He’s checking on me to see if I’m okay. It’s our funky little dance. I know he sometimes dates other women, but we don’t talk about it. I also know I shouldn’t be hurt when he does. I’ll go silent and withdraw. He becomes more attentive. Then we find our way back to normal.

  He delivers the coffees to my bedside table and hangs his coat on the back of my desk chair. Kicks off his sneakers, grabs his coffee, and climbs into bed on the empty side beneath the covers. As he adjusts the pillows so he can lean back against my headboard, I sip my coffee. My phone now lies uncovered on the bed, but it’s gone dark, so he can’t see that I was staring at his texts.

  “So, how was last night?” I ask.

  His socked feet find mine beneath the comforter, and he shifts a little closer to me, so our lower legs are aligned. As he’s shifting around to get comfortable, he answers, “Fine. You left without saying goodbye.”

  I stare out the window and observe the rivulets running down the glass. “It’s a nasty storm. I can’t believe you came over without an umbrella.”

  He moves even closer,
so our bodies touch, and wraps his left arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his chest. He kisses the top of my head. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. There’s no need to check. It’s got to be foul, so I try to put distance between us, but he holds me in place.

  “Hey, Mags.” He lifts my chin so I’m forced to look at him, and I press my lips into a firm line. His brow wrinkles as his thumb strokes my cheek. “Is everything okay?”

  I push off and jump out of bed, careful to keep my mouth closed until I’m far enough away he won’t smell my putrid breath. I mumble as I head out of my bedroom that yes, everything is fine.

  After brushing my teeth, I return. He’s still propped back on the pillows, sipping his coffee while holding my phone. I climb back in bed and see he’s unlocked the screen. Of course he has. He and I have the same passcode for our phones. We did that years ago so if there was ever an emergency we could get into each other’s devices. He’s reading a CNN article. An alert probably came through and he tapped it.

  He avoids making eye contact as he says, “You didn’t answer my texts last night.”

  “I had already gone to bed. I was about to respond when you knocked on my door.”

  Still reading the article, he says, “So, everything’s okay?”

  I nod, but he’s not looking at me, so I add a verbal, “‘Yes.”

  He tosses the phone down and extends his arms. I fall into his open arms, and he pulls the comforter around us. My sister keeps telling me this relationship with Jason isn’t healthy. For years, I’ve told her she’s wrong, but given it feels like we had a fight and this cuddling thing we have going is our make-up routine, her points are starting to coalesce. If I had a boyfriend, what on Earth would he think of my friendship with Jason?

  I shut off my mind and press against Jason, resting my head on his chest. The pattern of his heartbeat soothes my frayed emotions. He is my balm. My best friend in the world, and this feeling of peace, an inner warmth that simmers when he’s near, it’s like no other sensation. The rain outside patters away, but in my room, right here, is bliss. As long as I can shut out any thought of him and the girl from last night. Shut off the nagging idea that I shouldn’t care.