by Lisa Dale
Charlotte sat playing with one of her earrings, a tiny wrench hanging from a silver chair. “You haven’t said a word about the wedding. How was it?”
“Fine,” Lana said, though her head was still spinning from that night. She’d almost let Eli kiss her. Or worse, she’d almost kissed him. She didn’t know what was more excruciating—knowing what had almost happened or knowing what didn’t. “Eli has been acting… funny.”
“What do you mean?”
“He… I don’t know. He’s different.”
Charlotte frowned. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more to go on than that.”
Lana bit the inside of her lip, afraid of speaking the thing she didn’t want to acknowledge in words. “He’s been flirting with me!” she said fast.
“Flirting. You mean, really flirting?” Charlotte asked, pushing her gray-brown hair behind her shoulders. “Like, more than your usual flirting with each other?”
“I think he wanted to kiss me. I saw it in his eyes.”
Charlotte laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know. Lana, he’s had a thing for you for years. I thought you knew.”
Lana looked down. “In the beginning I thought he did. But then… then I was sure it went away. I guess I was wrong.”
Charlotte’s smile was a little sad. “He’s in love with you. But I could see why you’d downplay it in your mind. I mean, it’s easier that way.”
“I don’t know what to do. He’s changing the rules.”
“Is it a game you want to play?”
Lana took a deep, heavy breath. “Part of me does. But… I don’t think I could make it work with him romantically. I’d be too afraid of losing him.”
“Why couldn’t you make it work? You’ve been friends for so long. What exactly would change apart from the physical stuff?”
“I don’t know.” Lana rubbed her palm hard against the cushioned arm of her seat. “Maybe he would change. Maybe I would. And then what? I’d lose him if it didn’t work out.”
“There’s always risk when you’re talking about love.”
“I don’t want any risk,” Lana said, anger rising from some deep, hidden well. “I want something steady. Something that I can depend on but that isn’t going to chain me down.”
“Isn’t that exactly what Eli does for you?”
“Yes. Right now. As my friend.”
“I’m really not convinced.”
“It’s like baking a cake,” Lana said. “Why would I want to change the recipe if the cake is perfect just the way it is?”
Charlotte nodded, her eyes warm and understanding. “But what if you only think the cake is perfect because you’ve never had anything better? What if there’s more?”
The nurse announced a name from the doorway, and the two teenagers looked up with twin “deer-in-the-headlights” expressions. Together they rose and followed her out of the room.
“I suppose you might be right,” Lana said.
“And what have you decided about the baby?” Charlotte asked, lowering her voice.
“Adoption.”
“But could you really do that?”
“Why not?” Lana looked down. “It would be more ethical to give it away than to keep it. I mean, look at me. Look at my life, my dreams. I’m not ready to give up on having an adventure. So I’m not cut out to be a mom.”
“You can have an adventure and be a mom.”
“No. I know what it’s like to live in a house where people aren’t dependable, where they just come and go. This baby needs a mother who’s down-to-earth. Solid. Predictable. Someone less like me.”
“You would have help,” Charlotte said warmly.
“You mean Karin.”
“And me. And Eli. The baby wouldn’t want for family.”
“No, I suppose not. But no matter how much help you guys would be able to give me, at the end of the day, I would still be its mom. It would all come down to me. Either I have to give up my dreams of traveling, or put them off for the next twenty years until the baby’s grown. And even if I do keep it, I might screw it up.”
“Why do you think you’ll screw the kid up?”
“Because even if I love it right now, what if I end up resenting it in a few years for getting in the way of the life I want to live?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Lana, you’re not him. You’re not like Calvert. I don’t think you should be worried that you are.”
Lana lowered her voice. “The thing is, Karin is the one who was meant to be a mother. Not me. I feel like our fates got shuffled. I feel like it’s pretty clear what I’m supposed to do.”
“My God.” Shock flashed across Charlotte’s face. “You want to give the baby to Karin.”
Lana sighed. “If she even wants it. But I’m not sure she does. If they were going to adopt a baby, they probably would have by now.”
Charlotte frowned.
“It’s not really that bad. It makes sense. I could still see the baby and be in its life, but I wouldn’t risk screwing it up by being a bad parent.”
“Does Karin know?”
“Not yet. But I think maybe she’s been hinting. Nothing too obvious. The other day, she was talking about storing her exercise equipment and she said, ‘Gene and I put the treadmill in the extra room that was supposed to be for the baby. Too bad you don’t have any extra room at your house.’”
“That’s mean,” Charlotte said.
“Not exactly. It’s just Karin’s way.”
“You shouldn’t give Karin the baby just because Karin wants you to.”
“But it’s not totally about Karin. It’s about me too. I told myself that when Karin had a family of her own, then I could go away for a while. So it makes sense: I give the baby to Karin, Karin gets the family and stability she always wanted, and then I’m free to live in Costa Rica for a while like I’ve always wanted.”
Charlotte shook her head. “There’s something missing from this plan.”
“What?”
“Your feelings.” Charlotte took her hand. “That baby is yours, Lana. It’s part of you. And you’ve always had such a soft and caring heart. I just don’t think you’re going to have as easy a time handing over that baby as you think.”
Lana swallowed the lump in her throat. She worried that Charlotte was right. It would be hard to give up the baby, but she had to. From the doorway, a nurse called her name, the summons as finite as a judge’s gavel. “I think it’s the only way,” she said.
Eli pulled a handful of crumpled dollar bills from the pocket of his jeans and did his best to flatten them out before handing them to the cashier. He and the woman, a young redhead who might have been the same age as his students, had somehow fallen to chatting about crossing guards and busy intersections, but the conversation had been cut short by Eli’s groping for bills. She started packing his groceries into his reusable bag while he fumbled and apologized. She was laughing when he handed her the money at last. He took his bags and drove home.
Generally, he was in a good mood these days. He felt as if he’d turned a corner, but that it was just the first of many corners and whatever waited around the next one was big. For the first time in his life, he felt totally and completely like himself.
The consequences of this transformation had been astounding. It suddenly seemed as if people liked him more, and he liked them too. He was interested in everything. He felt generous and good toward everyone. Women were especially responsive. He wasn’t sure, but he thought they flirted with him more, or he caught them checking him out. Ordinarily he might not let himself believe it was happening. But why deny the truth? He was different now.
He carried the groceries into his house, humming under his breath. And when he started to unpack his food, he found a receipt that wasn’t his, with the cashier’s name and phone number written in swift blue ink. He laughed a little to himself but crumpled the receipt in his hand.
There was only one woman for him. The possibility of failure, of being
forced to use his newfound confidence to forge a future without her, was real. But he would not cave. He was more optimistic than he’d felt in years; this was the same high he felt when he was on an expedition and he felt certain of finding something big. He was too close to give up now.
Lana had thrown on an old sweater made with inch-thick wool and a slouchy brown collar that piled up to her chin. If Eli had been surprised to see her at his door at nine o’clock in the evening, he didn’t show it. She didn’t miss the way he put his arm around her on the pretense of ushering her inside.
Eli’s house had always been a safe haven for her. His taste in furniture was much more studied than hers. While she tended to favor exotic colors and mismatched chairs, his brown leather couch and russet walls showed a preference for economy and simplicity. And yet, for all his interest in design, he took no pains to keep his apartment overly neat. Books were strewn on the floor and papers obscured the coffee table. Various remote controls sat on armrests, and his sneakers were untied in the middle of the floor.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. She sat down on the couch, her back not touching the cushions behind her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Come sit with me.”
His mouth turned down slightly at the corner. He sat on the couch beside her, closer than she would have liked.
She took a deep breath. The conversation they needed to have would not be easy. He seemed to be in a good mood and she hated to ruin it. But what choice did she have? Waiting would only make things worse.
She’d practiced her lines a hundred times at home and on the way over. Eli, I just want you to know that I value you as a friend, a very close friend. I’ll always feel that way.
Yet now that she sat beside him, she trembled with nerves and realized she had no idea how she was going to launch into the conversation they needed to have. She hadn’t schemed up any introductions, hadn’t preplanned how to broach the topic aloud. Talking with Eli had always been so easy. But now, no words came.
“What is it?” he prompted.
She looked into his eyes, their brown so rich and luxurious and caring. The freckle that winked like a star just under his lower lashes. Tonight he wore a navy blue hoodie and slouchy jeans, and his chestnut brown hair stood up at the very back of his head as if he’d been sleeping. She could smell his laundry detergent and the sporty scent of his body wash. All at once, she wanted to bury her face in the warmth where the cotton of his sweatshirt met the smooth heat of his skin.
His eyes narrowed as if he knew what she was thinking, as if he registered the subtle shift in her gaze and was reading her mind. She panicked, trying to make herself look away. Yet the gravity was unbreakable. He shifted slightly, turning toward her a fraction of an inch. She caught the scent of mint on his breath. She saw his gaze drop to her mouth.
Eli, I just want you to know that I value you as a… The words were stuck in her throat, replaced by a longing that had burst inside her like a geyser, rising from someplace hidden and deep. Please just kiss me, she pleaded. Please.
And when he did not, she took his face in both hands and leaned in.
She felt the delay of his surprise, and for a split second she thought, Oh, no, I misjudged him. Maybe she’d been imagining the longing in his eyes. Maybe she’d attributed to him a need that was entirely her own.
But then his hands were in her hair, on her shoulders, everywhere, and his mouth was a demanding, greedy heat, fire bursting through an open door. She dug her fingers into his sweatshirt, rising up on one hip to slant her body closer. This was better than she remembered. So much better. He shifted on the couch, pressed her back into the soft cushions to align their bodies, and when his chest pressed flat against hers, she arched toward him, her whole body crying out for more. She was overwhelmed by him. He touched the beginning and end of every nerve in her body, those on the surface of her skin and deep inside. She’d meant only to dip a toe in water, to test the temperature. But now she was in over her head, drowning, sinking with him.
His hand curled around the back of her knee, and with a quick tug, her leg was bent and lifted, linking their bodies in age-old alignment. The intimacy of it shocked her, the firm pressure of his hips. She came up for air, struggling to clear her head. But she caught only a glimpse of that clarity before his mouth was on her neck, driving her crazy, dragging her back down once again.
Wait. She heard the word in her head long before she found the lucidity to say it aloud. “Eli. Wait.”
A gruff noise came from the back of his throat.
“Please. Wait.”
He didn’t lift his head immediately. He’d stopped moving, but she could feel the difficulty of his restraint, the pounding of his heart and his breath hot against her skin. When he finally looked up, his eyes were cloudy with want. He moved back slightly, and she pushed him off the rest of the way. She stood as quickly as she could, blood rushing to her head, and she went to the other side of the room. She couldn’t bear to look at him, and so she stood at the window, peering through her own reflection at the dim lights in the street.
She needed to say something. He expected it and deserved it. But words seemed worthless and lame. When she spoke, her breath marked the window in a mottled, shifting white. “That wasn’t what I meant to happen.”
He said nothing.
Panic warred with the urge to explain herself, to undo what she’d done. She thought as quickly as her sluggish brain would allow. “Eli. I came here to tell you that I value you as a friend.”
“I know you do.” She turned around to face him and saw that he was sitting on the couch, leaning his forearms on his knees and looking at her intently. His hands were clasped tight. “I value you as a friend too.”
She nodded, not quite sure they were on the same page. “I didn’t mean to kiss you.”
“But you did.”
“I did.” She leaned back against the windowsill, both hands holding on to the wooden edge. A thrill of something exciting and wonderful raced through her, burning up darkness and doubt. “I definitely did.”
He stood, began walking slowly toward her.
She went on, forcing herself to remember the logic of why it was a bad idea to kiss her best friend. “I did kiss you. But I didn’t mean to. Because, I mean, this isn’t good timing.” He took a few more slow steps toward her; she couldn’t tell if he was listening to her or not. But she went on. “I don’t know where these feelings are coming from. I need us—you—to be dependable right now.” He stood before her, close. She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop. “Don’t you see? It’s such a strange time in my life. I need stability. I need friendship. I need—I need…”
“You need…?”
She looked at his mouth, those lips that she knew could drive her mad. There was no more denying it. “I need you,” she said.
He kissed her, but it wasn’t the kiss she’d wanted. Only a teasing and soft kiss, one that left her gripping the front of his shirt and seeking more. She had to close her eyes a moment to calm down. “We have to talk about this,” she said.
“Yes. We do.” He stepped back, cool air rushing between them. “But not tonight. Neither of us is in a position to talk right now.”
“Thank you,” she said.
• • •
Outside, the night was blustery, the trees bending and creaking. She drew her coat more tightly around her and headed toward the car. She took a breath of fresh air, waiting for a feeling of liberation to soar through her, waiting to feel like herself again. But instead, she had only the paradoxical sense that she’d just managed to escape from a place she’d always wanted to be.
On the lonely and dark roads, she rolled down the windows of her car to let in the freezing air and she turned up the radio until the speakers buzzed with thumping bass notes. The fields that stretched toward the distant mountains were dark and spooky, more smoky gray than black in the light of the moon. Ab
ove, the sky was starless, lit by a swollen moon.
She drove as fast as the curves of the road would allow. There were reasons people didn’t fall for their friends. She had to remember that. She’d been around long enough to know that when fantasy collided with reality, the result was usually a breakdown. The high expectations of fantasy and the baser truths of real life simply couldn’t combine. That was part of the reason that she’d trained herself to compartmentalize her feelings about Eli, tucking away desire and bringing feelings of friendship out into the light of day.
But the place Eli occupied in her heart was too big, too expansive to be superficially labeled or contained. All this time she’d counted on him to be her reality, her welcome, her dependable day-to-day. But now he was telling her that he was something different: He was also her fantasy, a secret promise of pleasure, passion, and sex. And she worried, How could he be both and be lasting? How could she make a life with him?
She had taken such care to build the structure of their relationship; she’d spent years honing her own feelings toward him, dulling them when they became too hot and sharp, encouraging herself to feel distant and mild. For ten years, friendship had seen them through Eli’s many travels—the ups and downs created by his absence and presence. Friendship had protected Lana’s dreams of traveling on her own—as long as she kept herself at arm’s length from him, she would not be tempted to forfeit her dreams for his. Her rules had served them both well.
But as the miles disappeared under her tires and she told herself, again and again, to be logical—to be realistic and smart—some part of her remained with him, in his living room, in his arms, demanding everything he had to give, and seeing the evening through to a different, more satisfying end.
October
Evening primrose: As a flower pollinated by nocturnal insects, the evening primrose is made for night. Some have theorized that the petals are mildly phosphorescent. Others speculate that the flowers do not give off their own light, but instead store up sunlight during the day. Whatever the cause, the true nature of the evening primrose is most clearly seen when the sun is down.
October 1