My conversation with Megan on the last night in Pearlview came back to me. She had asked me what was most meaningful to me—given that money and time were no object, what would I want to do with my life? I had no idea how to answer her, and the question had felt frustrating.
But as I lay in the tent, listening to the rain and the sounds of the night, I realized that this was an answer. This was meaningful to me. The fact that was changed just by learning to be in tune with nature—learning that I was a part of nature, not separate from it. It was calming me now, even when it felt like the rest of my life was terrible, and I felt like the most irresponsible adult on the planet.
I never could have imagined that something like this would be meaningful to me, but it was. It sank into my bones, making me realize that I wasn’t in freefall like I’d thought I was, but instead, I was exactly where I should be.
That night, lying in the tent, something slowly slipped into place inside me. It was like a dislocated shoulder popping back to where it should be.
And for the first time in a long time—for the first time maybe ever—I saw a path laid out in front of me. It was a long path, and one that could end up winding, but I saw one.
The best part about it was that it was the right path for me, not anyone else. I wouldn’t have to have anyone “saving” me—especially not Max.
But I was going to need his help.
12
Max
It was nine o’clock at night, and I was still in the office.
Sometimes, in the past, I had actually enjoyed being at my office late because it meant that the place was quiet, and I could look out the window of the sixteenth floor, down at the beautiful city lights and streets.
But tonight, I was just in the basement, the buzz of fluorescent lights all around me, a wan greenish glow in a windowless room. One of our shared servers had gone down, and it was the one that contained the files I needed. Almost everyone else had gone home, so I tried to come down to the basement to fix the server, but nothing was working. In fact, I may have actually made the problem worse.
I’d had at least four cups of coffee since five o’clock and only eaten a protein bar I found languishing at the bottom of my shoulder bag.
The thing is, all of this would have seemed normal to me a month ago. Before the vacation in Pearlview, this was just my life: I worked hard, I put in the extra mile, and it was just what I did. But it was like taking time off from work had finally clued me in to the harsh reality of what my life was like. It was as if I was a horse that had finally had its blinders taken off.
How did I live like this?
The work I was staying late to complete wasn’t even required—I was testing out a different implementation of an algorithm that someone else had already made because I just wanted to see if I could get the same thing written in fewer lines of code. It was totally unnecessary.
And as I got the same error message again from the server, I gave up. Fuck it. I was wasting precious hours of my life for things that didn’t even matter. I went back upstairs, packed my bag up, and headed down the elevator to the ground floor.
I walked back home slowly, trying to take my time and notice the world around me instead of just disappearing into the nearest subway stop and remaining underground until I got home.
I stopped at a burrito place to get dinner, and as I ate, memories came back to me: Owen, sitting in one of the booths near the front, Megan and I laughing as he tried to eat three burritos in a row. He only got through one and a half before admitting defeat, and Megan and I got to have the leftovers for lunch the following day. It was a memory I hadn’t thought about in years—I so rarely came here anymore, even though it had been one of Owen’s favorites in college.
Something kicked loose in me when I remembered that moment. It was like one memory was the spark that ignited a million more, and as I walked home, I couldn’t stop them from coming.
There was the street corner with a beautiful lamp post, one that Owen always commented on because he thought it looked like it was from a movie. One rainy night he’d jumped up and swung around it, beaming down at me and grabbing my hand, pulling it up to kiss the back of it like I was an old-timey lady. At the time, that had just seemed like another funny gesture from my friend, but I realized now that I hadn’t allowed myself to admit how much I’d loved it. He never remembered an umbrella, and so that night, I had walked him home in the rain, making sure to hold my umbrella over the both of us. Owen had almost gone home with a girl that night, but he had chosen to walk home with me, instead.
And then, closer to home, there was the small chocolate shop that sold the best dark chocolate I’d ever had. Owen would sometimes buy me the biggest bar of it that they sold. It was ludicrously expensive, and more than once he told me he used the last of his paycheck to get it, but that he knew I would enjoy it. He’d get me it just because he knew it was my favorite.
I missed Owen so much. I didn’t know why things had to be as they were, why I was cursed to want more from a friend who probably only wanted a summer experiment. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I found Owen’s number, and I hovered over the dial button.
But at the last minute, I put the phone back in my pocket. I entered my apartment building, went up the stairs and let myself inside, and collapsed onto the couch.
The couch might have been where my favorite memories with Owen were: just me and him, lounging around and watching dumb TV, Owen sometimes falling asleep on my lap.
I had loved those moments. And I hadn’t appreciated them enough when I had them.
A week later, nothing had changed. I made the same long walk back home from work, which I’d now gotten accustomed to. Taking the streets instead of the subway now felt necessary to clear my thoughts.
But when I entered my apartment, I yelped. There was someone sitting on the couch—clearly not Megan, and she was supposed to be working the night shift, anyway—and for a minute I worried someone had broken in.
He turned when he heard me cry out, and that’s when I saw that it was Owen.
“Hi,” he said softly, standing up and giving me a little wave.
“Wait—what—how did you get in?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“I’ve still got a key here, Max,” he said.
“Oh, right,” I said. I dropped my shoulder bag to the floor, still just staring at him. It felt strange having him here, even though he had lived here before. But my brain had gotten so used to him being gone that it felt like he changed the energy of the space, like it had regained something I forgot it was missing.
“You’re… here,” I said, still nearly speechless. I walked over toward him, and as I approached, every emotion from the beach vacation came flooding back to me: Owen was so beautiful and being near him just made me feel at home somehow.
“God damn it, Owen,” I said, closing the distance between us and throwing my arms around him in a tight hug. He hugged me back, letting out a long sigh, and we stayed that way for at least a minute before I pulled back, looking him in the eye again.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
Owen had the mischievous look in his eye and the tiny grin that I knew so well.
“Well,” he said, “two reasons. The first one is way easier to explain, so I’ll start with that.”
Owen bent down to where he had an overstuffed backpack and opened it. After rustling around it for a while, he finally pulled out a big shirt, holding it up so that I could see the front of it.
“I got this after my boat ride with Megan. I’d meant to give it to you, but I completely forgot.”
It was a shirt that had a big illustrated cartoon beach on it, and scrawled across the top it read “Welcome to Pearlview Beach: You’ll Never Want to Leave Again!”
I paused for a moment, looking from the shirt back up to Owen. I saw his grin widen, and after a minute, we both started to crack up laughing.
“Thank you, Owen,” I said, taking the shi
rt from him. “This is… well, it certainly is something.”
“I’m sure you’ll wear it to work every day, right?” he said.
“Oh, of course. This is what we aim for in our dress code.”
We admired the shirt for a while longer before I neatly folded it, setting it aside. I sat down on the couch, and Owen followed. From the corner of my eye, I saw a little tuft of fluff sticking out of the opening in his backpack, and I realized what it was: Owen had brought with him the little stuffed fox that I’d won for him at the summer fair.
My heart melted. I couldn’t believe Owen still had that little plush, let alone brought it with him. I looked at him, full of affection, and I realized that he had begun to look a little more nervous—he was wringing his hands in his lap, looking down, not making eye contact with me.
“What’s up, Owen?” I said softly, reaching out to put a hand gently on his thigh. His eyes shot up toward me, like he hadn’t been expecting the touch.
“Sorry, I’m a little nervous,” he said.
“I can tell,” I said, trying to smile to break the tension. But Owen didn’t smile back. He drew in a deep breath and let it out.
“God,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why this is even harder to tell you than the wilderness story.”
“The wilderness story was amazing, and I was so glad you did tell me. I’m sure this will be no different.”
“Well,” he said, “the… the other reason I came here—to the city—was because I need to go to the university.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Our university? Shit, don’t tell me they are trying to make you pay the rest of your tuition—you shouldn’t have to pay for an entire year of college you didn’t attend—”
“That’s not it,” he said, shaking his head.
“What is it?”
“I have to go to the school because… because I’m going to finish, Max,” he said, finally meeting my gaze, his own eyes intense.
“Finish?”
He nodded. “I’m going to finish my psychology degree. Jesus, this is so hard to say because I’m afraid I’ll jinx it or something. But… yes. I’m going to try. I’m going to try going back, finishing the last year or so.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered, squeezing Owen’s thigh a little tighter. “Holy shit, Owen, are you serious?”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all excited now,” he said, waving me off. “Congratulate me if I actually finish. Seemed hard enough when I was actually in school, and now I’m out of practice—fuck, I’m nervous, Max—”
I leapt toward him, wrapping my arms tight around him in a hug. If I’d come at him any quicker, I’d probably have accidentally tackled him to the ground.
“Owen, that is so amazing,” I said, holding him tight in my arms and rocking in place. “Hell, yes. You’re going to do so well. It’s going to be different now—you’re older, more responsible….”
“I sure hope so,” Owen said as I pulled back. “If you can’t tell, I’m kind of scared shitless.”
“But it’ll be good for you,” I said.
He gave a quick nod. “And the real kicker is—in a dream world… well, in a world where I can actually finish the damned degree—I’d love to get a Master’s in counseling afterward. And I want to be able to be a wilderness therapy counselor. There’s nothing in my life that has helped me more than that experience, and if I could help even one person as much as I was helped, I want to be able to do it.”
“Owen,” I said, watching him. “Jesus, I might be about to fucking cry,” I said.
He puffed a laugh out at me and slapped me gently on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “No crying over something like this. Like I said, let’s see if I can even do it yet.”
“You’ll be able to,” I said, nodding resolutely. “I have every bit of faith that you will.”
Owen smiled at me. “You always do tend to believe in me,” he said softly.
“I’ll always believe in you,” I said.
The conversation lulled for a moment, and as I looked at him, I realized that despite all my happiness for him there was a part of me that was still unsure.
Because here I was with Owen—someone who I’d slept with so many times during our trip, had been so physically close to—and now I didn’t quite know how to act around him. We hadn’t acknowledged the trip, and to me, it was a sign that Owen might not want to acknowledge it.
Maybe he just wanted to go back to the way things were before. And if that’s what he needed, I could do that.
13
Owen
“Please tell me they still have that sandwich with the bacon on it,” I said, staring inside the diner window.
“Which one?”
“You know. The one,” I said.
“Owen, there are probably about a million different types of sandwiches with bacon on them in this city.”
“The one with the bacon, the avocado, the crispy chicken?”
“Oh, Max said, his eyes lighting up under the neon glow of the “open” sign hanging in the diner window. “I know exactly the one.”
I nodded. “We gotta go in. I need that sandwich. I can’t believe it’s been missing from my life for this long.”
We entered the Nesingwood Diner, sliding into the same old booth we used to frequent when I’d lived in the city. It wasn’t surprising that nothing in the diner had changed—I was certain nothing in it had changed since the seventies or maybe even the fifties. It had the same pink Formica tabletops and sparkly blue booths, the same neon lighting across its ceiling, and the same clientele—college students, the elderly, and maybe a police officer or two sitting at the bar.
Tonight, though, it was just us and a couple other booths that were occupied. And I couldn’t have been happier to see that.
Settling into this booth finally felt like coming home. When I’d been in the apartment, I almost felt like an intruder, even though I’d lived there for so long in the past. I’d told Megan that I was visiting but hadn’t had the wherewithal to call Max. I couldn’t believe that she hadn’t told him I was coming, but then, Megan was always good with surprises.
And being around Max again felt almost too good to be real. It was tormenting me not to kiss him—but I wanted to make sure everything was right first—didn’t want him thinking I was only there for that. As far as I knew, Max could be dating any number of eligible bachelors in the city. It wasn’t easy to feel like I could deserve someone like him. I needed to make sure he knew I was serious about finishing my degree.
We ordered our food, both of us getting the same incredible sandwich. As we waited for the food we talked about inane things—he told me about his work, I told him about how I’d been “camping” outside. We laughed about memories of the weird neighbor we’d had a couple years ago, and Max informed me that he had finally moved out.
When the sandwiches finally came, Max brought up something that I’d been too scared to bring up myself.
“So,” he said, crunching on a French fry, “Megan and I have kind of been using your room as a storage space—there’s a bunch of papers and books in there, but we can get them out. When do you actually think you’re coming back for good?”
“I… I was going to ask you that same thing,” I said, putting down my sandwich. “You… wouldn’t mind me moving back in?”
Max furrowed his brow. “What? Would I mind?”
“Yeah—I know you… kicked me out for a reason, this spring, and I don’t want to be presumptuous. I know you and Megan might prefer being there on your own—”
“Owen, no way,” he said. “I want you back so badly. You couldn’t possibly know how empty it feels without you.”
I swallowed. “Are you sure, Max?”
He looked at me intently. “I’m one hundred percent positive,” he said. “You come back to live with us. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I let out a long breath, feeling like each of my muscles was finally unwinding. I hadn’t
realized how much stress I’d been under, just considering asking that question. It didn’t matter how happy Max was to see me—asking him if I could move back in was another thing entirely.
But he still wanted me. Wasn’t afraid of living with me anymore.
“That’s fucking amazing,” I said. “God, what a relief. I guess… I guess we lived with each other for two weeks at the beach, and things were good there,” I said with a chuckle.
And then I blushed, realizing that I’d inadvertently brought up the trip. I wasn’t ready to go down that road yet, either—there was an entire ocean of topics we hadn’t acknowledged yet about what happened on the trip.
My face was hot, and I picked up my sandwich, quickly stuffing my mouth.
“Yeah,” Max finally said. “The beach feels like it’s a whole world away, now, doesn’t it?”
I caught his eyes. “Yeah,” I said. “Different world entirely.”
A whole world away. Did Max want to keep it a whole world away? Keep it in the past, not let it seep into our friendship now?
I was so fucking bad at this. I had never really properly dated anyone before—I’d had plenty of hookups and relationships with girls, but they’d always been casual, surrounded by a haze of drugs or alcohol, and never lasted longer than six months.
But how was I supposed to know, now, how real dating would work? If Max actually wanted me… actually would be willing to date me, he would say so, right? I didn’t know what role to take or how bold to be.
For fuck’s sake, I felt like an idiot for even thinking that he might want something more serious with me. At the end of the day, we were best friends, and maybe Max didn’t want to compromise that, didn’t want to take our summer fling further.
Right when I thought my brain might explode, Max finally spoke, changing the subject to his other favorite diner in the city, comparing it to the Nesingwood. I’d never been so grateful for a subject change. For the rest of dinner, we talked about nothing special, and when we walked home, I kept a healthy distance, even though I wanted to be walking with him arm in arm. Hell, a lot of times in college I’d walk arm in arm with him, half as a joke but half because it just felt good.
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