Anywhere

by Jinsey Reese

  I really had to stop thinking about it.

  We swam a little longer, then got dressed and went back to our room. We took a shower to wash off the sticky salt water (and may have taken advantage—again—of being naked and wet together…I’m just saying), then I turned on my phone to check messages. My mom had texted, demanding that I call her.

  It’s not like I could ignore her text especially because I’d be texting her tomorrow morning anyway and she’d know I’d see it then. And I’d still have to call her. So I could put off the inevitable or get it over with now.

  No time like the present.

  She picked up on the second ring.

  “Skylar,” she said.

  No hello. No how are you. I don’t know why I ever expected anything different or why it hurt every time. I should have been used to it by now.

  “Hi, Mom. You wanted me to call?”

  “Yes, well, since we’ll be seeing you in about a week at Paige’s wedding. Nice of you to let me know your travel plans.”

  I was an ocean away.

  “You knew, Mother, as soon as you got the invite. So why did I need to tell you something you already knew?”

  “It’s called Common Courtesy, Skylar. Most people would recognize that.”

  I exhaled slowly. I was an ocean away.

  “I’m coming home for Paige’s wedding.”

  “Thank you. Now was that so hard to do?”

  She had no idea.

  “I have to say I’m not at all surprised that she got herself in trouble like this.”

  “Paige didn’t get herself into trouble. She got pregnant with a LOT of help from Danny. That’s not trouble and it’s not her fault.”

  “All I’m saying is—”

  “I know what you’re saying. And she’s my best friend, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop saying it.” Had I actually said that out loud to her? Holy shit. And I wasn’t even panicking about it.

  She was silent for a moment on the other end. “I don’t know why you talk to me like that, Skylar. After all that I went through with you.”

  I didn’t say anything. My inclination was to apologize, to smooth things over, but I wasn’t going to do it this time. I had to say it—she needed to hear it. And I wasn’t going to take it back.

  My mother had always been the master at long, uncomfortable silences. Usually accompanied by the Look. The combination of which ALWAYS had me rushing to repair whatever damage—real or imagined—I’d done.

  She was doing it right now.

  But then, so was I. And I’d had a lifetime to learn how.

  Finally, there was a heavy sigh, and she said, “You were never like this when you were with Blaine. At least you’ll have a chance to make up with him at the wedding.”

  “What? Why would I…?” Oh, shit. Danny was Blaine’s best friend and was supposed to have been best man at our wedding, which meant…

  Fuck. Me.

  “I gotta go, Mom.”

  “Skylar, you can’t avoid this forever, you know. You and Blaine are going to have to work things out.”

  “Jesus, Mom. There’s nothing to work out, nothing to make up. I don’t want to marry Blaine—I don’t love him. I would think you’d be happy I wasn’t marrying someone I don’t love.”

  “Love isn’t everything, Skye.” Her voice had gotten quiet, oddly sincere. It wasn’t something I was used to hearing from her.

  I paused. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  “When you love them,” she said softly, “they can hurt you. It works better when you don’t. I just…” She paused, and I wasn’t sure she was going to say more because she was quiet for so long. But then she said, “I just don’t want you to go through what I went through.”

  Old pictures of my parents when they were first married flashed in my mind. The unbridled happiness on both of their faces. And then the despair my mother had tried so hard to hide, but never could, when my dad had left. I’d never really thought about it before. How it had affected her.

  As gently as I could, I said, “I really gotta go, Mom. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

  Wow. I sat there on the bed staring at my phone for a moment. I’d always thought of my mother as strong, demanding, and not particularly warm. She wasn’t a loving person, never had been, at least not in my memory. But in those pictures, I realized, she’d looked different. More open, loving.

  She’d remarried not long after the divorce—about six months later—and at the time it hadn’t seemed strange. I was too young to notice. But now everything was falling into place. It’s not like she’d been having an affair. No. She’d met Roy about a month before they’d gotten married. He was a decent enough man, maybe a little too nice. He let my mother take care of him and boss him around. But they worked well together. There wasn’t any great passion between them, but there was comfort. At least it looked that way.

  I guess I hadn’t really ever thought about whether she loved him. Roy clearly adored my mother, had always treated her as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune to have her. But, now that I thought about it, I’d never gotten the same feeling from her. She cared for Roy, yes. But was she in love with him?

  My heart sank. I didn’t think she was.

  That made me feel so incredibly sad for her.

  And all I could think was that for maybe the first time in my life she and I were in total agreement. I didn’t want my life to turn out like hers, either.

  twenty-four

  ME: Blaine’s going to be there, isn’t he.

  My text sat there, waiting for Paige’s response. Why hadn’t I realized it? Seriously. Where had my brain been when Paige had told me the wedding date? When she’d asked me to be her maid of honor. Of course Blaine was going to be at the wedding. IN the wedding.

  PAIGE: I tried to talk Danny out of it, to pick someone else, but you know how close they are and it’s Danny’s wedding too. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.

  ME: I’m not mad, I’m just…I don’t know what. Why didn’t you tell me?

  PAIGE: It’s just all happening so fast and so much feels like it’s out of my control. And I honestly didn’t know how to tell you. This is the stuff nightmares are made of, right? Didn’t want to spoil your trip. I’m really, really sorry.

  ME: Oh, god. He’s the best man, isn’t he? (No wait. Don’t answer that.)

  PAIGE: Okay. NOT ANSWERING. But it won’t be that bad. You only have to walk back down the aisle together. I’ve made it so you’re not sitting together. And I will name the baby after you TO MAKE UP FOR THIS TORTURE.

  ME: It’s okay. I’ll survive. (Just PLEASE don’t let my mother near the seating chart.) Is he bringing a date? (Please, please, please say yes.)

  PAIGE: I don’t think so. Are you?

  I glanced at Asher, he’d fallen asleep next to me, journal open, pen still poised in his hand. In my dreams I was bringing him as my date. In reality I was getting on a plane alone in four days. And he would eventually be heading to London.

  I was beginning to hate London.

  ME: I wish.

  My fingers paused above the screen. I could have told her about Asher right then—it was the perfect opening. But what would be the point? I was leaving. So I said nothing. Again.

  I said goodbye to Paige, then leaned over and put Asher’s stuff away. He stirred and smiled sleepily at me as I reached over him to turn off the light. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me down next to him. I lay my head on his chest, breathed him in and listened to his heart beat as I waited for sleep to take me.

  “You’re quiet today,” Asher said. For the past twenty minutes we’d been watching the French countryside go by the train window, every silent mile bringing me that much closer to leaving.

  I couldn’t look at him. It already felt like the end, coming to Paris today, and I was trying so hard to not think about it, to focus instead on the time we had left. We still had three days together, three nights in Paris. So much to see and
experience. So much to fit into such a small window of time.

  And I was sitting here drenched in dread.

  I needed to snap out of it. But everything felt as if it were coming at me all at once—leaving Asher, seeing my mother, coming face-to-face with Blaine and having to explain to him AGAIN that I didn’t want to marry him no matter what my mother had told him. And in the midst of all this, my best friend was getting married and would be having a baby.

  “Oh my god, I’ve got to get Paige a baby gift.”

  Asher’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s why you’re quiet?”

  “No.” I finally looked at him and gave him a half-hearted smile. “There’s just…a LOT happening next week.”

  He didn’t say anything else, just reached over and took my hand.

  And I wanted to cry.

  This was Asher. He didn’t tell me everything was going to be fine. He knew that wasn’t always true—look at what happened to his brother. And he didn’t push me to be anything more than I was or to feel any differently than I felt. I’d never known anyone like him. Not in my whole life.

  His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. But as soon as he saw the text, he said, “Shit,” and turned away from me. He spent a few minutes typing, then slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked at me like he had really bad news.

  I put my hand on his arm and said, “Is everything okay?”

  He hesitated, then said, “That was Tamara.” I took my hand away, recoiling unconsciously. “She’s decided to take the next session off, and wants me to come to London the day after tomorrow. She’s really anxious to see me.”

  My stomach turned to stone at his words, and I searched his face. What was he thinking? About us? About her? Was he anxious to go because he loved her still?

  He wasn’t mine. I had no right to him. And I needed to be Adult about this.

  I swallowed. “Do you need to go today?”

  “No. She won’t be free until Tuesday.”

  I couldn’t breathe. And all the while I was thinking how stupid it was to be so upset by this. So he had to leave early? What did it matter when I was leaving the next day anyway?

  But it did matter. Stupid or not. I only had two days left with him now. I couldn’t stop my eyes from watering, so I just turned toward the window and watched time go by.

  When we got to Paris we went to the little hotel Paige and I had stayed in and reserved a room for the next three nights. I tried not to think about the fact that the last night was now going to be without him. We left our packs in the room and set off on foot for the afternoon. And I tried to make the best of it.

  I kept staring at him when he wasn’t looking. He was different, it seemed. But only when he was lost in thought. In those moments, his mask would slip to reveal sadness settling in his eyes, grim lines around his mouth. Then he’d meet my eyes and the mask would slide back into place with his smile. And maybe it was just my imagination, but I swear, during our days and nights in Paris, every time he put his arms around me, he held on tighter.

  What I hadn’t been able to do at the beginning of my trip, I was doing now. I wanted to go see the Eiffel Tower first because, come on, it’s PARIS. You can’t go to Paris and not at least stand at the base of it. Which is all we did because the line to go to the top was too long and I didn’t want to spend even a minute wasting time standing in lines. So instead, Asher and I strolled the paths of the Champ de Mars and bought a couple of chocolate crepes from a street vendor.

  Then we just walked, ending up in another park over by the Louvre. Statues lined the walk as we headed toward that glass pyramid at the museum. I was dying to go inside, but it was already late afternoon.

  “We’ll go to the Louvre tomorrow because I think it’s just about the only museum open on Mondays.”

  “You don’t mind?” I said.

  “Mind? Are you kidding? How can anyone come to Paris and NOT go to the Louvre?”

  I grinned at him. “I would have had to drag Paige kicking and screaming into the museums. And I would have done it.” Then I stopped, my hand on my chest. “Does that make me a bad person?” I held out a hand to him. “Wait. Don’t answer that unless it’s no.”

  “No,” Asher said, laughing. “It doesn’t make you a bad person…just a horrible, horrible friend.”

  “Yeah, well. I pretty much cemented that distinction when I left her at the airport to go home alone.”

  I couldn’t believe it had only been four weeks since that day. It felt SO much longer than that. So much had happened in that time, so much had changed.

  I had changed. I wasn’t the same girl who’d run away scared of what she’d left behind, afraid of what lay ahead. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation to come, but I knew I would not be talked back into Blaine. And I had Asher to thank for that. I knew that there were better possibilities out there. And it was possible I’d never find anyone as great as Asher—and I hated that thought—but I also knew I could find someone a lot better suited to me than Blaine. And that even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t settle for less. Not anymore. Not ever again. Not after Asher.

  And I now knew for sure that I needed to leave home—go far away from it—if I wanted to have a life of my own. And I did. I really, really did. Now that I’d had a taste of it, I wanted more.

  Going home was going to be hard in so many ways.

  We wandered until we found a little restaurant that looked promising, and had dinner. Then we walked some more—European cities are made for walking—vaguely heading back toward our hotel.

  Paris at night was gorgeous. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that it sparkled. It really did. (There’s a reason they call it the City of Lights.) We caught glimpses of the Eiffel Tower all lit up—a breathtaking sight. You just wouldn’t believe the beauty of this city—I fell totally in love.

  While we were still out, it was pretty easy to focus on all that we had planned for the next day. But that night as I lay next to Asher listening to him breathe deeply in sleep? Time slipped through my greedy fingers, relentlessly counting down to our end.

  twenty-five

  Asher was Thoroughly Unimpressed with the Mona Lisa.

  “That’s IT?” he said as we stood in front of the most famous painting in the world, people crowding on all sides. “I don’t get it. What’s the big deal about this painting?”

  “Right?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t seem that remarkable. I mean, it’s FINE. And it’s Da Vinci, but SURELY he has greater works.”

  “A Quest!” said Asher, jabbing a finger in the air. “A Quest for Da Vinci’s Greatest Work.”

  “You’re standing right in front of it,” said the man standing next to him, and before Asher could start in on the Mona Lisa’s lacklusterness, I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him away.

  We didn’t have time to start a new quest, but I didn’t want to be the one to say that out loud. We were having too much fun. Much better to pretend this thing between us could continue past today.

  “How about we quest for the best chocolate crepe?” I said as we wandered into a gallery filled with marble sculptures. The Louvre was huge and we could have easily spent an entire week in there and STILL not seen everything. The unbelievable amount of beauty in this museum was mind-blowing. We’d only been in there an hour and I was already on overload—there was just too much to see. I couldn’t take it all in and needed a break. Chocolate seemed like a Very Good Idea. “I mean, THAT’s a Noble Quest.”

  Asher put his arm around my shoulders, pulled me close, and kissed the side of my head. “I love the way you think,” he said. “What say we start now?”

  “Agreed,” I said, and ignored the way my heart sped up when he used the word love.

  By the time we were on our third crepe vendor, I was starting to feel a little sick.

  “I need Real Food,” I said, and offered him the rest of mine. He took it and put the whole thing in his mouth, chocolate dripping down one side of his face.
I laughed and reached up to catch the drip with my finger.

  Asher grabbed my wrist and kept my hand near his mouth. His eyes never leaving mine, he took my finger into his mouth and slowly, sensuously sucked the chocolate off of it.

  I’d had no idea that fingers could be so sensitive…because though his tongue was twirling my finger, I could feel the effects ELSEWHERE.

  And I wasn’t laughing anymore. I’m pretty sure I just stood there, mouth ajar, staring at him. When he finally released my hand and grinned at me, I wasn’t sure what to do, where to look. He’d enjoyed that. Thoroughly. He hadn’t missed the effect it’d had on me—he’d watched my face the entire time. I didn’t know what to think about that.

  So I looked everywhere but at him, trying to remember what we had been doing. Food. That’s right. I needed food. A market, so I didn’t have to sit across from him in a restaurant, trying not to think about what was to come. I wanted to be amidst crowds, distracted. I didn’t want to think.

  “How about a picnic?” I said, starting to walk in what I hoped was the right direction. It was a wonder I could still remember I was in Paris. Asher didn’t say anything, just took my hand, which made my heart beat stupid-fast, and walked with me.

  We eventually found a bakery where we picked up a baguette, and a market where we bought a few different cold salads and a couple bottles of water. Then we took our picnic and found a bit of shade in the green behind Notre Dame.

  Notre Dame, if you’ve never seen it, is this huge gothic cathedral with spires rising up to the skies and gargoyles sticking out along the sides. Although, honestly, after having stood in St. Peter’s Basilica only a month ago, Notre Dame didn’t seem as large as it should have. But then, I had a feeling nothing ever would.

  “I wonder if they have gargoyle souvenirs,” I said, staring at the church. “They MUST, right?”

  “Lucky gargoyle foot key chains?” Asher said.

  “Or a stone-carved gargoyle coffee mug.”