Cold Feet

by Amy FitzHenry

  Liv nodded in agreement.

  “Do you remember him?” I ventured. “You must have met him, right?”

  She thought for a moment. “I think I remember him from that neighborhood Fourth of July party we went to the summer after freshman year.” We found the block party flyer on our fridge and decided to go, figuring we could score some good food, sparklers, and hopefully a couple beers. We’d misjudged the situation and become the de facto babysitters for the night. I had completely forgotten about it, but Liv was right. Mike was there. I struggled for some memory of an interaction, but came up blank.

  “He was cool,” Liv offered. “I remember him saying the deviled eggs were good and I should try them.”

  “I like deviled eggs, too,” I said softly.

  “See! Chip off the old block.” We both managed a small laugh.

  “Liv,” I asked, in the least judgmental tone I had, “what’s going on with Tony?”

  “You know, if the lawyer thing doesn’t work out, you really shouldn’t consider a career as a spy, Em. You’re not exactly subtle.”

  When I didn’t respond, she sighed. “I don’t think we should talk about it. I know it’s going to upset you, and I really don’t think it’s worth putting our friendship in jeopardy over.”

  I considered her words. A phrase popped to mind that people are fond of saying when discussing legal matters. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Seven combined years of law school plus practicing as an attorney, and I still have no real idea what this expression means. My best guess is that it represents how when you already own something, it’s harder to take it away from you. Liv was my best friend. No matter what either of us said or did in the heat of the moment, that wasn’t going to change. We had occupied this firmly entrenched position for each other for the past fifteen years and nothing short of ouster by force could change that. I made a mental note to consider the metaphor for one of the law journal articles my firm was always asking us to write.

  “Olivia Lucci. Our friendship is not in jeopardy. Now tell me what’s going on with STB.”

  “All right. Here goes nothing. But remember, you wanted to know.” I nodded affirmatively. “We did break up at the end of school, as you know, but we ran into each other when I came back to San Francisco for a wedding, right after I started at my firm, and things started up again. You and I were both so busy with our new jobs, and living so far away from each other. Not to mention the fact that you said you would break both of my hands if I ever thought about texting him again. I thought I would protect you from having to know. And protect my hands. We’ve been seeing each other on and off ever since. Not all the time, but when Tony is in New York, or I’m in San Francisco for firm interviews. But I swear, I was just as shocked as you were to see him at that bar in the Mission.”

  That was one good thing. I couldn’t bear the idea that Liv was lying to my face, or faking the look of surprise I’d seen when we walked over with our martinis.

  “Yes, we were in contact. To be honest, we’ve never really not been in contact. He knew we were in the city, but I didn’t invite him to come. That night, I texted him that we were in San Francisco unexpectedly and going to a Springfield Isotopes show that night—don’t ask me why I got that specific, he likes The Simpsons. When we ran into him, he told me he had looked up the show and found us. He claimed he thought not telling me was the best way to do it, so I wouldn’t have to lie to you.”

  Damn, he was good. No wonder the entire world hates lawyers. They’re slippery little bastards.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ve tried to break it off a million times. I’ll go for weeks, even months at a time. But then something will happen to remind me of him . . . He’ll be in the area, we start texting, then talking, then we meet up. Before you know it, we’re right back to where we started.”

  As she confessed this, Liv looked distraught at the memories. But that didn’t make sense. Liv never looked distraught, at least not over a guy.

  “I’m so sorry, Liv. That sounds really hard.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Of course not. I wish you had told me, but mostly I’m mad at myself. I’m mad that I didn’t make you feel like you could come to me, and you’ve been going through this alone.”

  “Thanks, Em. Also, if you’re wondering about Professor Gray, which I am sure you are, they really are separated now. In fact, she’s dating another criminal law professor at Boston College.”

  I nodded. I wouldn’t truly believe STB was single until I saw the divorce papers, but I also knew that there was no sense in fighting about it right then.

  “What about Carrick? I thought you liked him. Did I completely misread that?”

  “Completely.” She smiled. “I was never interested in Carrick, Em. I was just trying to distract you from Sam with Dusty, by inviting them places. Dusty clearly had a crush on you. I thought it might be good for your ego, to get your mind off the Val thing a little.

  “In any case,” she continued, “I ended it with Tony.”

  When I didn’t say anything, but simply raised an eyebrow skeptically, Liv went on.

  “I’m serious. I saw your reaction when you walked into his office, and I don’t know, something flipped. I saw the situation through your eyes. Even if things are different from how they used to be, it’s still not going anywhere. I’ve always told myself that maybe it is, but it’s years later and we’re no closer to actually being together. I don’t even know how I truly feel about him anymore, it’s such a habit at this point. Plus, could I ever really trust him?” Nope, I thought silently. “I ended it after you left the office yesterday, and I haven’t spoken to him since. Now I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I hope you can understand why I didn’t.”

  “I do. Can I say one more thing?” I asked tentatively.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry I was so mean to you when I found out. I was reacting off the cuff.” Liv’s tension dissipated but she still looked sad. “I was horrible, and I didn’t mean it. At all.”

  “I know you didn’t. Thanks for saying that.”

  “I felt like my world didn’t make sense anymore. I don’t mean that as an excuse, but as an explanation.”

  “You are forgiven.” She smiled.

  While I pulled on a cozy sweater and jeans and rifled through my bathroom drawers for some magical concealer to transform my shiny cheeks from been crying maniacally to fresh-faced and radiant, Liv sat at the kitchen table, rifling through the pile of mail I’d collected on my way in.

  “Have you seen this letter, Em?” Liv had three piles in front of her, which appeared to be bills, Anthropologie catalogs, and birth announcements. In her hand was a thick white envelope addressed to me with no return address. Sam, I thought immediately, my heart racing. But he didn’t even know I was back. Did he?

  Inside was a multiple-page letter, folded up into a fat rectangle. When I unfolded it, the handwriting looked familiar, but not immediately recognizable. It was large, looping female writing. There were carets to insert missing words and writing in the margins. It was clear that it had been through a couple rounds of edits, and that the writer had put in a lot of effort. I quickly flipped to the end to see the signature.

  “It’s from Val,” I said in disbelief.

  “Oh no.” Liv groaned. I flipped back to the first page, putting up my hand to shush her, and read aloud.

  Dear Emma,

  I am so sorry anything ever happened between Sam and me. I don’t have an excuse for why any of it happened. To say that I was not in my head when Sam and I made that mistake is not enough, although it certainly is true. I truly wish that it never happened. I think that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you. I think I thought that if I never said it out loud, it would be like it didn’t. I also didn’t think it was my place, even though we were
friends.

  Liv interrupted with a scoff, but I kept going.

  I thought if you found out it should be because Sam decided to tell you, not me. I stopped being your friend because I didn’t think it was right to keep our relationship going. I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m sorry about that, too. Finally, I need you to know one thing. It never happened again. Sam really loves you, and he’s lucky to have you. I was, too. I know this is probably impossible, but I truly hope that someday we can put all of this behind us, and who knows, maybe be friends again.

  Love,

  Val

  “Wow. Good letter,” Liv offered, when she could finally speak from the shock. I nodded my agreement. “Should we call her? See if she wants to hang out?” Liv joked. I put the letter in a drawer, needing some physical space from it.

  “I guess everyone has some parts of their past they aren’t proud of,” I said, letting out the breath I’d been holding in. I had to admit, I felt a little bit better, relieved there was some peace between Val and me, and that some good feelings remained despite it all. For now, that was enough.

  CHAPTER 28

  Whenever Liv came to town, we went to our favorite Mexican restaurant, Casa Sanchez. It had a mariachi band, delicious margaritas, and—the best part—free guacamole. This anomaly kept us coming back despite the fact that the location was a bit far and the wait a bit long. That was why when we got into the car and Liv took the driver’s seat as usual, I was surprised when she didn’t start heading east on Washington. After all, free guac is the ultimate in comfort food, and comfort food was above all what we needed.

  “Did you forget the way?” I said, trying not to sound too demanding given the fact that she was driving my car.

  “Nope. We’re not going to Casa Sanchez and before you ask, it’s a surprise.”

  After hopping on the freeway, she exited on La Brea and traveled North for a while before starting down a side street in Hollywood, on a stretch of road where there aren’t any restaurants or bars, only the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

  “What are we doing at the Hollywood Cemetery?” I asked. “Are we lost?”

  Liv pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Nope. This is your stop.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Emma, can I give you one piece of advice?” she said, ignoring my question. The car went quiet with the engine off and the radio silenced. “Give Sam another chance.” I felt instantly thrown for a loop. I was doing my best to forget my ex-fiancé and canceled wedding, even though to be honest it was never more than several jumps from the center of my thoughts. Why in the world was she bringing it up?

  “I know you like Sam, Liv. But it’s too late. It’s ruined. I mean, our rehearsal dinner was supposed to be tomorrow, and if you hadn’t noticed, he’s not exactly begging for one,” I said pointedly, looking down at my hands and swallowing the lump in my throat.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  Without warning the car door on my right swung open. I jumped what felt like three feet in the air and let out an unattractive yelp. Standing on the curb, with the car door handle in one hand and a picnic basket in the other, was Sam.

  Walking through the Hollywood Forever Cemetery at dusk, escorted by Sam, who was careful not to touch me or say too much, was completely surreal. For one thing, there wasn’t another living soul around. Ha. I’d seen the cemetery pretty quiet before, when they had concerts or outdoor movies and shut the rest of the place down, but it was never this dead. Okay, that was enough.

  “Are we having a picnic?” I asked, stretching out the words, looking for clues as to what he was thinking or feeling. He nodded but didn’t elaborate. He looked incredibly nervous, wearing the long-sleeved blue collared shirt he always wore when he had a meeting with his agent. The last time he left the house in it, I remarked how cute he looked. I wondered if that was why he wore it.

  We walked quietly through the wide paths, past crumbling white tombs, some at the head of narrow reflecting pools, and elaborate bronze crypts. When we finally got to the carpet of green grass in front of the Cathedral Mausoleum, the central building on the grounds, Sam put down the basket. Removing a blue-and-white-striped linen blanket and placing it in front of a weeping willow, he sat down.

  “We’re here,” he said, motioning for me to join him. I followed instructions, sitting next to Sam against the wide tree. He opened the basket and poured us each a glass of wine from a corked bottle. Not chardonnay, I noted. It was starting to get dark and I could barely see his expression.

  “Shouldn’t we sit facing each other? It might make this less awkward,” I said.

  “Nope. There’s something I want you to see.” Sam pointed to the white walls of the mausoleum. Without warning, a large projection lit up the wall.

  “What is this?” I exclaimed. “Are they showing a movie tonight? Where is everyone?” I had the nervous feeling you get when you wonder if maybe there was a zombie apocalypse reported on the news and you missed it.

  “Watch and see.” On-screen, an old-fashioned countdown to a movie reel began to play. When it hit one, it went fuzzy for a second before coming into focus. Sitting there, on the front steps of his house in the exact same spot I’d sat selling books on the day of their yard sale, was a twenty-foot Sam.

  “Hi, Emma,” the huge Sam on-screen said, his voice echoing through the cemetery. It was kinda spooky with the double Sams, but I liked it. “We’re getting married in a couple weeks, and if you’re watching this, that means you actually went through with it. First of all, thanks for that.” There was some talking off-screen, as if the cinematographer was reminding him of something. I recognized Dante’s low accented murmur. “Right, or I did something horrible and I’m showing this to you in a last-ditch effort to win you back. Either way, I hope you like it.” He paused and added in a low, sweet voice, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” He faded out and I turned to the real Sam, who looked pained.

  “The last line was meant to be a joke. I was going to show this at the rehearsal dinner, but I figured I better find a way to show it to you now, so we have a chance of actually making it there.” For perhaps the first time in my entire life, I was speechless. I felt my mouth open and close a few times like a fish, but nothing came out.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” he said nervously.

  Out of nowhere, Ray LaMontagne’s “You Are the Best Thing” started ringing out of speakers all around us. On-screen, the images flashed. Sam had compiled a montage of film clips from his numerous siblings, parents, and grandparents videotaped all over the world. Each different family member held a sign that displayed a different word or phrase. His brother lay next to his sign in Costa Rica while he drank a beer on the beach. His regal British grandmother perched in a hard-backed chair holding a formal, printed card. His parents sat cross-legged in their backyard in Rye, New York, one at either end of a poster board, with their dog, Smokey, running in circles around them. It went on. As the clips passed, the words started to form a sentence. The last scene was the entire family, spliced together, each member holding his or her own sign.

  Together they all shouted out the words they’d been stringing together. “Welcome to the family, Emma and Caro!” Then they all cheered and danced around to the same song, which was coordinated to play in real time with the music in the video.

  I was floored.

  I turned to him, shaking my head in shock, tears shining in my eyes. “This is amazing. How did you pull this off?”

  Sam looked at me strangely. “You do realize I’m a filmmaker, right, Em? Plus, I called in a few favors. And some blackmail.” Sam looked at me and squinted his eyes, the way he did when he was very focused, or drafting his fantasy baseball team.

  “Emma, I want to say something, and let me finish. I’m glad you like the video, but I don’t expect yo
u to forgive me because of that. I need you to know that I’m incredibly sorry about what happened in Charleston. I can swear to you right now that nothing like that will ever happen again. But I think you know that.” He paused and looked at me, waiting for this part to sink in. “Please forgive me, and let’s move on. Let’s move forward, stronger than ever. Together.” Again, he stopped for a minute, as if considering whether to continue. I waited patiently. “And whatever did or didn’t happen in San Francisco last week with any other guy, I don’t want to know. I know you were staying with some guy from Airbnb and that you went back there by yourself. Don’t be mad at Liv for telling me—she was worried and talked to Caro. Then, when she found out you were still with them, she was more worried, which made me worried. Did I just say ‘worried’ too many times?” I started to laugh, but stopped when I saw how serious his face was. “If you were talking to some other guy, or felt comfortable staying with him or whatever, I assume it didn’t compare with what we have. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Dusty. Did it compare? I knew the answer before I even finished the question.

  “No, it didn’t.” The truth is, my feelings for Dusty had faded completely. He was an amazing person, who supported me at a time when very few could. But that was the extent of it: gratefulness and affection. I felt guilty for Dusty’s sake, and hoped he didn’t feel used or hurt in any way, but then I remembered how MyLocal was probably going to make him a billion dollars and how tall he was. He would be fine.

  Sam took both of my hands in his and looked at me closely. “I love you, Emma. Will you please still marry me?”

  I wanted to say yes immediately, to jump into his arms and shout that I couldn’t wait. He was right, I did know deep down he would never do anything like that again. Some part of me knew that the past week I’d been using a mistake he’d made years before—an awful one, don’t get me wrong, but an outlier for sure—to protect myself. Relationships, marriage, long-term love, it always seemed so scary, and the existence of other people in your life so temporary. But maybe I was wrong about that, I considered for maybe the first time ever. Or at least, maybe there were exceptions. After all, look at Liv and me, best friends no matter what. Look at Caro, protecting her daughter to her own detriment. Look at Sam, loving me through it all. If we got past this, we could probably get past anything.