The Other One

by Jiffy Kate

  We’ve been here for about thirty minutes, and I reckon we have at least another thirty to go, but it’s worth it. What makes this even more exciting is that this will be Loren’s first King Cake from Randazzo’s. In fact, it’ll be her first real King Cake, period, other than the couple she’s bought over the years from local grocery stores. That type of King Cake is good too, but it’s nothing compared to what we’ll be eating soon.

  I’ve been mindlessly tracing the skin on Loren’s lower back with my thumb, not really paying attention to anything, so I’m startled when I feel her elbow nudge my ribs.

  “What’s the matter?” I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close to me. After her breakdown a couple of weeks ago, I find myself even more protective of her. If it bothers her, she hasn’t mentioned it.

  “There’s a guy and a girl over there staring at us.” She jerks her head back, and I glance behind her right as she whisper-yells “don’t look”. I’m about to call her out on her contradiction when my eyes focus on the couple Loren pointed out.

  Evan and Whitney.

  Once they see I’ve spotted them, they start walking toward us. Evan looks reluctant—remorseful, even—but Whitney still wears the smug I’m-better-than-you look she’s always had.

  What did I ever see in her?

  I don’t know what to expect from them, and I can feel my body tense the closer they get to us. Loren must sense my discomfort because she tightens her grip around my waist while watching me, waiting for my answer.

  “Remember a while back when you said you’d love to give Whitney a piece of your mind? Well, here’s your chance.”

  “No way!” Her eyes narrow, and I’m pretty sure she just cracked the knuckles of her hand resting on my hip. “This should be fun.”

  “We don’t have to talk to them, you know.”

  Before Loren can respond, Whitney and Evan are standing directly in front of us. I can tell Whitney is expecting some sort of reaction from me, but thankfully, Evan chooses to speak before I vomit all over her shoes, which is the only reaction I can think of at the moment. If memory serves, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate that.

  “Hey, Tripp. How’s it going?” he asks, looking around nervously. “Looks like half the city decided to get a King Cake today. Man, this line is insane.” Evan was always good at using small talk to deflect awkward situations.

  “It’s good to see you, Evan.” When I say his name, Loren’s eyes flash to mine. I realize I only told her Whitney was walking toward us, not Whitney and my ex-best friend. She’s obviously surprised to see the two of them together. I’m surprised as well, especially since Evan didn’t mention it when we ran into each other a few months back. Naturally, I’d assume their relationship is a new one, but the huge diamond Whitney is flashing as she pretends to inspect her fingernails says otherwise.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello, Tripp?” Whitney gives me a little pout and flutters her eyelashes.

  I can’t believe I used to fall for that shit.

  I barely nod in her direction, not particularly wanting to give her the time of day, before speaking. “Evan . . . Whitney, this is Loren, my girlfriend.”

  The word “girlfriend” doesn’t begin to adequately describe what Loren means to me, but the less information these two have, the better. I don’t feel like I owe them anything. And the protectiveness I felt earlier has multiplied with their arrival. Instinctively, I pull Loren tighter, closer.

  “Loren, I used to go to school with Evan and Whitney,” I say, making direct eye contact with them both and feeling proud of myself for not cowering away. Loren knows the real truth. She knows just how well I know them, but I’d rather not focus on that. I want them to see I’ve moved on, and I’m better for it.

  Evan seems to take the hint, but of course, Whitney demands more attention.

  “Wow, Tripp, way to downplay the last five years!” Whitney laughs haughtily, turning to Loren. “We were more than friends back in the day. In fact, I thought we’d be married by now. Isn’t that right, Tripp?”

  “And now you’re engaged to his friend. How charming.” Loren speaks with a smile on her face, but disdain drips from her voice, sending her message loud and clear. Whitney’s smile fades as she watches Loren glide her hand across my waist, latching on to her other hand and effectively encircling me in her arms.

  Is that the female way of staking her claim? Regardless, I love it.

  Evan lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, can you believe that?” he asks, scratching his head like he still can’t believe it himself. “I asked Whitney to marry me over Christmas break, and she said yes.”

  I can tell he’s happy, and I’m glad for him. I guess somewhere deep down inside, I hope Whitney is happy too, but that’s about as far as it goes.

  “That’s great, man. Congratulations,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand as the line starts to move.

  “Guess we’ll see ya around,” I say, ending the conversation.

  I don’t even give them a backward glance as the line moves.

  This moment feels like a good representation of my life as a whole.

  I feel light and free as another burden I didn’t realize I was carrying is lifted. I’m at peace knowing that part of my life, and even more so that part of me, is in the past.

  “Are you okay?” Loren asks.

  “I’m more than okay,” I assure her, pulling her even closer. “I didn’t expect to see them here, but I think it was good. They reminded me that everything I went through with the two of them eventually led me to you, and I can’t find it in me to be mad anymore. We’ve all moved on and are better for it, I think. I hope so anyway.” I lean over to kiss the top of her head as the line moves again. “Sorry, you didn’t get much of an opportunity to tell Whitney off.”

  Loren shrugs. “It’s okay. She and I both know I win, but if she would’ve tried to cut in line with us, I would’ve definitely kicked her ass.”

  I bark out a laugh and squeeze her tight. “I love you so much.”

  “I can’t believe the car’s almost finished,” I tell Ben, leaning over the hood of the Impala. I’ve just installed new windshield wipers, and now I’m cleaning every window, making them shine. Yesterday, Ben and I replaced the brakes and all of the rubber bushings, so today we’re putting on the final touches. It’s been a long time coming, but it almost looks brand new, or at least like it did after it was rebuilt the first time, before the wreck.

  As I continue to wipe down the outside of the car, Ben slides into the driver’s seat, turning the key and listening as it purrs to life. My hand rests on the hood, feeling the vibration from the motor.

  “Okay, we just need to let the engine run for about thirty minutes, then change the oil. After that, she should be good to go, brother!” Ben smiles at me and throws a clean rag my way. “Why don’t you help me wipe down the inside before we open a beer and celebrate?”

  Laughing and without thinking about what I’m doing, I open the passenger’s side door and sit down. I reach up with the clean rag and begin to wipe down the dashboard. It’s then, when I look up through the windshield, that my body freezes. I haven’t been in this seat since the day of the accident, and although it’s been my goal to get back in this car, I wasn’t prepared to do it today.

  My hands clutch the dashboard, with my knuckles white and my palms sweaty, while I try to figure out what to do. My breaths escape in ragged pants, and my head pounds. I lean forward and let my head fall to the leather, concentrating on not passing out. Movement to my left side catches my eye, and I see Ben reach across, placing a hand on my shoulder. He speaks to me, but I can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out everything around me.

  I can’t do this.

  Do I sit here, frozen, and wait for the attack to pass, or do I run?

  Part of me wishes Loren was here to help because she’s the best antidote, but the other part is glad she doesn’t have to witness this.
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  Ben’s grip tightening on my shoulder makes me open my eyes and look over at him. When I see him mouth the word “breathe”, I nod my head and then force myself to take in a large gulp of air, then let it back out.

  After doing this a few times, my body starts to relax, but I have no idea how long it is before I’m able to pry my hands off the dash.

  “I’m sorry,” are the first words out of my mouth, but Ben rejects them.

  “No, Tripp. I’m the one who’s sorry. It never even occurred to me that you would react that way, and it should have.” He takes a deep breath like he’d been holding it for a while. The concern is written all over his face, and his hand is still resting on my shoulder.

  “I didn’t think about it either.” I laugh without humor behind it, shaking my head. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I mean, I guess it’s good that I wasn’t thinking too much about it and dreading it like I normally would, right?”

  “Of course, that’s good. What’s also good is that you stayed and worked through it; you didn’t give up and shut down. You could’ve bolted. That’s what you would’ve done a few months ago, and I would’ve chased your ass down the road.” He smirks.

  I scowl at him, but he only laughs. I know he’s right, though.

  “I know you panicked and forgot to breathe, but once I reminded you, it didn’t take long for you to calm down. I’d say that was a success.” He pats my back roughly.

  I reluctantly agree before my eyes widen in surprise. “I’m still here, Ben.”

  “Well, duh. Were you planning on leaving?”

  “No, I mean, I’m still sitting in the car, and I’m okay. I’m really okay.” I look at my hands, turning them over, realizing that I’m not even panicking anymore. There’re no tremors, no sweat. I’m just sitting here talking to Ben like I would’ve before all this shit happened—like we have a hundred times before.

  I guess I can do this after all.

  “What do you say we take this baby for a spin around the block?” Ben asks, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

  I feel the nerves back in my stomach, and my hands are a little sweaty again, but I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up or pass out, so I nod my head.

  After riding with Loren out to Kenner for parts, I thought this would be easier, but there’s something different about being back in the passenger seat of this car.

  “How about some Otis?” he asks, pulling an old 8-track from under the seat and popping it into the stereo.

  I nod again, taking deep breaths and blowing them out.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” he instructs, doing the same. “We’ll turn around whenever you want to. Just say the word. I’ll even stop and let you out. We won’t go far.” He stops for a second, pausing with his hand on the gear shift. “You can do this.”

  I nod in agreement because I feel like I can. I want to.

  Ben throws his arm over the seat and cautiously backs out of the garage with a strong hand resting on my shoulder, reminding me that he’s here and that I’m not alone.

  As Otis croons about love, with the windows rolled down, we cruise slowly down the street. The cool air fills the car, and it’s as if I can literally feel the lingering fears flying out the window.

  I can do this.

  Loren

  CHECKING MY MAKEUP one last time in the mirror, I also try to check my nerves and leave them right where I’m standing. I don’t want anything getting in the way of today. This date has held so many bad memories and moments for Tripp and me, but not today. Today is going to be about us—our love, our lives—and about leaving the past behind.

  We considered taking the easy way out and locking ourselves up in Tripp’s apartment, blocking out the world and trying to forget this day even exists, but that’s not who we are. Neither of us likes to ignore things because we both know that eventually, shit has to be dealt with. Maybe it’s from all of the therapy we’ve had, being forced to face our emotions and fears, but we like to deal with things head on.

  After our joint session with Dr. Abernathy last week, she helped us realize that going out and celebrating this day would be the best gift we can give ourselves. It’s been a year since I lost PJ and a year since Tripp’s life was turned upside down. We deserve this. We deserve each other, and we deserve to be happy.

  “You look great,” Grace says, standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, tonight’s gonna be awesome.” She nudges me with her shoulder as she sidles up beside me at the sink. “I know you’re worried and probably feeling sad, but you and Tripp are going to make new memories, and they’re gonna be good ones.” I smile at her through the mirror, knowing deep down in my heart she’s right.

  “Thanks, Grace Bug.” I lean over and pull her into a hug. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her this past year. It was the Lord’s work, putting us in the same dorm room. When I met her, I had no idea what my life was going to be like a few months later.

  “What am I going to do when I don’t get to see you every day?” she asks, squeezing me back tightly.

  “You’ll call me. And we’ll meet for coffee and library dates.”

  “You know, if you need me to, I could hold off moving in with Will one more semester.”

  “No way. You’re moving in with Will, and y’all are gonna be happy and get married and have lots of babies who’ll call me ‘Aunt Loren’.” We both laugh at the thought, still holding on to each other, but we know it’s true. She and Will are meant to be together. “You’re not putting your life on hold for me any longer.”

  “It was never like that,” she whispers into my shoulder.

  “Thanks for always being there for me.”

  “I’m glad you found Tripp.”

  “Speaking of,” I say, realizing I probably need to hurry and get out of here, “I’ve gotta go. He told me to meet him at our bench at four o’clock.” What Grace doesn’t know is that I’m going to take Tripp up on his offer to move in with him. I encouraged her to take Will up on his offer of them getting an apartment together because I knew I wanted to move in with Tripp. I haven’t told her yet because I think Tripp should be the first to know. Plus, I’ve been a little hesitant to admit it out loud because honestly, I’m still afraid of the emotions I felt when he originally offered. But I know it’s what I want, and I refuse to live my life in fear of the what ifs. I don’t want to be ten years down the road and look back with regrets.

  “Do you know what he has planned for your date?” she asks as I grab my sweater and purse from my desk.

  “I have no idea, but I love surprises.”

  “Have fun,” she calls behind me as I make a mad dash for the elevator.

  When I get outside, I look at my watch and realize that I only have ten minutes to get to the bench in front of The Crescent Moon—our bench. I find my steps going from a walk to a jog, needing to get there as soon as possible. I haven’t seen Tripp since yesterday morning when we met for coffee, and that’s too long. I miss him. I always miss him when I don’t see him for a day or so, which is all the more reason I should move in with him. At least that way, I know I’ll see him when we go to sleep and wake up.

  I want his mornings, his nights, and anything he’ll give me in between.

  I’m ready to spend forever with him. If he doesn’t know that by now, he should, but I don’t mind telling him every chance I get.

  I slow down just before the corner the café sits on, opening my bag and making sure Tripp’s gift is still in there. I bought him a book about Greek mythology that he doesn’t have. I especially love this book because there’s a part in here about the Algea, specifically mentioning Ania, the nickname Tripp gave me before we actually met. I know Tripp will love it.

  I also marked a page in there where it talks about Adonis. If I’m his Ania, then he’s my Adonis. I snicker at that thought, knowing Tripp will shake his head and blush over that, but it’s true. He’s beautiful and do
esn’t see himself clearly. I think the old Tripp was over-confident, with his talents and looks being the foundation of that confidence. But this new version is just starting to find his footing, and he’s realizing he’s so much more than the game-winning quarterback or the teenage heartthrob he once was.

  I feel like I came into his life at the perfect time, and not just for the obvious reasons. I’m fortunate enough to watch him be reborn, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

  When I get to the bench, I expect Tripp to be there waiting for me, but he’s not. I think about going into the café, but he specifically said the bench, so I sit down and wait. Besides, I don’t think I want to tarnish today with thoughts of the past, and I know those are all I would have if I went in there right now.

  He’ll be here.

  I tell the nagging, annoying voice in the back of my brain to shut the hell up.

  He’ll be here.

  A few minutes later, I’m still sitting on the bench, practically glued to the wood, my hands gripping the edge, when a shiny black car turns slowly around the corner. I do a double take, knowing I must be hallucinating because I could swear that the messy dark head of hair in the driver’s seat of that car belongs to my Tripp.

  I hate Thursdays.

  I hate this café.

  I hate coming here.

  I hate that PJ left me here.

  I hate him sometimes.

  I hate myself for hating him.

  If my therapist was here, she’d tell me that the fact I can admit those things is progress, and I’d call bullshit. I don’t feel like I’ve made any progress. I feel like I’m good at putting up pretenses, but deep down, I feel stuck. I feel like I’m in that movie, Groundhog Day, where he continuously wakes up and relives the same day over and over. For me, that day is February 14th.

  When I slide into my regular booth, I scoot over toward the window, craving the warmth that comes through it. That’s why I sit so close. As I sit there, losing myself in my thoughts, I feel a pull deep inside, something urging me to turn around, so I do. And it’s as if the world stands still.