Beautiful Together

by Andrea Wolfe

  Arielle's phone trilled in my moment of deliberation. She looked at it and then returned her eyes to mine. "Elise passed her exams!" she announced loudly. "She got a ninety-eight percent! It's time to celebrate!"

  I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. I could only be stubborn for so long, and then Arielle would eventually win—unless I fled. But fleeing wasn't an option while I was in London.

  "I'll have a couple drinks," I said. "Not ten. Not a hundred. Just a couple."

  "Fine," Arielle said. "I'll take that." She hoisted up her Mai Tai. "To our beloved Elise, the best hairstylist on the planet!"

  I ordered a gin and tonic.

  ***

  I woke the next morning with a raging headache and hangover. The room was so bright I felt like I was in a tanning booth.

  "Shit," I groaned as I sat up in bed. How many drinks did I have again?

  I couldn't remember. But that was normal when you went out with Arielle.

  I took a long swig of my water bottle and put on some clothes. The only thing I could remember—and it was definitely vaguely—was singing Lady Gaga and Backstreet Boys songs at karaoke. It probably wasn't our best performance either.

  I downed three ibuprofen in the bathroom, and then followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen like a dog hunting a pheasant. Catherine always set her fancy coffeemaker to automatically produce a fresh pot for us after she left from work, a gesture we always found to be incredibly sweet and utterly necessary for sanity.

  Although the coffee was about an hour old, it was hot and adequate. I grabbed a huge mug and filled it to the top and sat down on the couch to peacefully sip.

  It was smooth on the way down, and I could feel the caffeine kicking in with the ibuprofen. My headache rapidly faded away as warmth filled my body.

  I sighed hard. Today was the day. The big day, whatever that meant.

  This would be my first solo exploration, so I was a little nervous.

  My first cup of coffee down, I jumped in the shower and cleaned up. The water was incredibly warm and comforting, so good that I didn't want to get out. Reluctantly, after about twenty minutes, I finally did.

  I was torn between looking nice or feeling comfortable, but comfortable eventually won out. I put on a casual blouse and a pair of jeans, and then threw my hair into a ponytail.

  As I sat down and put on my tennis shoes, Arielle stumbled out of her room, her hair a disheveled mess, her giant faded Ramones t-shirt hanging almost to her knees.

  "Hey," she grunted. "Coffee?"

  "Coffee there," I said like a Cavewoman, pointing at the pot, trying not to giggle like an idiot.

  "Good." She poured herself a cup and sipped in silence.

  "I'm... heading out," I said reluctantly. "To meet Jesse."

  Her expression visibly changed as the caffeine set in. "Don't worry," she said. "It's probably no big deal." I was surprised to hear full sentences after our earlier primitive exchange.

  "I know," I said.

  "He probably wants to catch up and apologize. You guys haven't spoken in a long time. It'll be good for both of you. Healthy even."

  I felt a smile breaking out across my face. "Thanks, Arielle."

  "You've been through a lot," she said. "You're just meeting a friend. It's no big deal. Tell yourself that if you get too nervous."

  "Yeah, thanks." I looked at my phone and realized it was time to leave. "I gotta go. I'll... talk to you later."

  "I'm excited to hear all about it!"

  I waved back and walked down the long front hall. When I was outside the apartment, I closed the door quietly and proceeded into the elevator. A couple of minutes later, I was in the lobby. Every step seemed abnormally meaningful when it led me toward such a major event.

  Before heading outside, I double checked the directions in my phone to make sure I knew which train to get on. When I had it all memorized for the twentieth time—I hated looking like a newbie when riding public transportation and always did everything possible to prevent myself from appearing that way—I headed out into the day, moving briskly to prevent myself from stopping and giving up.

  The train ride was dull, drab, predictable. I zoned out, but my mind kept running in wild circles. Where was Jesse living? What did he think of me? What did his company do? Did he have some ulterior motive for meeting me? Why the hell did we grow so far apart in the first place?

  I barely got off at the right stop, having to sprint toward the door as it was already closing. And then I almost accidentally tackled an old lady after rushing onto the platform. I apologized profusely and then continued.

  After I got to street level, I checked my cell phone—I was still twenty minutes early. Nevertheless, I continued power walking as I tried to find the place. After wading through the crowds on the street, I finally found the sign for FreeState Coffee and headed toward the door.

  Since I was early, I decided that I would just grab a table and wait for him to show up. But as I passed along the window toward the entrance, I saw Jesse sitting there, his stubble more defined than it was the last time I saw him; he really did look like a man now.

  He grinned and waved. I feigned a smile as I realized this was really happening.

  I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. My heart pounded, my stomach churned, my palms sweat.

  As I stepped inside, the pungent aroma of coffee almost knocked me over. And then he was there, hugging me, smiling and telling me how excited he was to see me.

  And I said the same things back—and I meant them. I could barely believe the cocktail of feelings flowing through my bloodstream. I felt warm and affectionate and caring and alive in a way I hadn't experienced in so long.

  Jesse had on a tight black jacket and a pair of snug, worn jeans, and as much as I wanted to avoid even thinking it, he looked sexy as hell. I didn't understand what I was feeling, that volatile energy that kept taking on so many different forms.

  He was just an old friend, nothing more. So why was I this giddy?

  After the opening embrace ended—and my heart rate returned to slightly elevated—we got in line and both ordered Americanos and broccoli and cheddar quiches, his treat.

  "I'm staying near here," he said as we waited for our order. "The Rosewood London Hotel."

  "I don't know what that means," I admitted. "I just go wherever Arielle and Amy take me. Is it a nice place or something?"

  "Yeah," he said, smiling. "Really cool architecture and stuff. They even paid for individual rooms too."

  I couldn't help smiling back. "Do you go on a lot of these trips?"

  "Business trips? We're just getting started, so not really yet. But the future looks promising."

  I smiled. "That's cool."

  After we grabbed our food and drinks, we made our way back to his table. "God," he said, stopping to sip his drink, "I can't believe we're here, in London of all places, meeting up for the first time since... high school."

  "It's crazy," I said.

  "This city is huge. I mean, what are the chances that we'd actually run into each other in the middle of the night?"

  "Not so good, I'd say."

  "The coffee is great, right?"

  His question took me by surprise since I had completely forgotten about the hot drink right in front of me. I lifted the mug to my lips and sipped. It was like a hundred times better than the coffee from Catherine's machine. "Wow," I said, "it's incredible."

  "We've been coming here like five times a day," Jesse said. "Trying to keep ourselves awake to get everything done while we're here."

  I nodded. "It sounds like things are crazy."

  "Yeah, they are. It's a good crazy, though. How are things in your world?" He covered his smile with his coffee cup and took another sip.

  "I can't really complain," I said automatically. "I'm not really doing anything cool though." I wanted to escape the spotlight as quickly as possible. "Tell me about your business. I'm really interested." I didn't actually know how interested I was�
�tech stuff was usually way over my head—but I needed a diversion.

  "It's called Dolphin," he said excitedly. It was crystal clear that he was proud. "We've been working on it for years. The project started in the dorms at Boston University my sophomore year. Some of the guys went to Harvard and MIT too. We created this business software that combines the best elements of Facebook and LinkedIn in a totally new platform. It even has inventory management and stuff. Fully customizable. It's gonna revolutionize the way the business world works." He stopped abruptly, like he needed to catch his breath. "Sorry, I get a bit excited sometimes. You can tell me to shut up whenever."

  I laughed. I felt that same familiarity from so many years before. I remembered plenty of times when he started reading up on some random subject and got so fervent and excited that he wouldn't stop talking until he seemed like he was going to faint.

  "That sounds really cool," I said. "I mean, it sounds like it could be a big deal."

  "That's what we're hoping. I mean, a lot of companies fail, so it's still risky, but we're hoping for the best. That's why we're working so hard. We already got a small mention in Wired though, so hopefully that will keep some momentum going."

  "I'm sure you'll do great." I stopped to sip my coffee. "Where are you living, then? Boston?"

  "Yeah," he said. "We all graduated and stuck around. Share a big house. Where are you living?"

  "I'm in New York City with Arielle," I said. "We live with one other roommate too."

  "Awesome," Jesse said, smiling warmly. "I love NYC. We'll probably wind up there someday. The city that never sleeps." He laughed awkwardly.

  We both paused after that, stopping to try the quiche. There was clearly tension in the air, tension about how we should proceed. No matter what, we'd inevitably wind up at the tough details of our past. It had to happen.

  "This is delicious," I said. "Thanks again for the coffee and food."

  "It's my pleasure," he added. "It's great to see you, really. I mean, you look great... and happy."

  I laughed and blushed a little. "I mean, I could be happier."

  "What's going on?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. His question felt so natural that I didn't even pause.

  "Nothing," I said. "Well, other than smoking pot and working a part time job. Nothing fulfilling. Not like what you're doing."

  "You smoke pot?" he asked suddenly, sardonic smirk exploding across his face. "If you're lying right now, you need to tell me."

  I blushed again. "Why's it such a big deal if I do? I mean, I'm an adult now. I can do what I want."

  Jesse laughed hard. "That's true. I just never believed the rumors back in high school. And then I totally forgot about it."

  "There were rumors?" I asked, heated. "Seriously? Why was I never informed about this?"

  "Yeah. I don't know how you didn't find out. People talked about you and Arielle smoking all the time. People said you were 'lesbian stoners.' I always assumed they were just making shit up, though. I didn't believe it."

  I was shocked. "'Lesbian stoners?'" I asked. "Seriously? If you're lying right now, you need to tell me!"

  "It's ridiculous, I know," he said. "Like I said, I didn't buy it. I mean, there's nothing wrong with being a lesbian or smoking pot, but I didn't believe it."

  I shifted awkwardly in my seat. "Well you were still wrong, because I was smoking pot. That was true. But not the lesbian thing. Not that I have any problems with being a lesbian, but I wasn’t." I felt seriously defiant and riled up, like someone had just torn out my stitches on a fresh wound and blood was starting to flow. "I couldn't believe you were dating Carla Voss. And that wasn't even a rumor!" It was a childish retort, but it came out automatically.

  "Shit, that stings," he joked. "Harsh."

  "Well, it was bullshit!" I felt myself venting—and it felt really good. This was like years of pent up frustration rushing to the surface and finally escaping like a geyser exploding. I didn't know if I was going to be able to stop myself.

  "I was young and impressionable," he said defensively. "And she wanted to have sex a lot. Is it so hard for you to understand that a horny sixteen year old guy would want to have a bunch of meaningless sex? It's not like we got married."

  "But she hated me and—" I stopped and stared back at him, at that innocent look on his face and immediately felt horrible. He was just stating something from the past, not living it now. "I'm sorry," I said. "This is like completely old news. It doesn't even matter anymore."

  He reached across the table and rested his hand on mine. Surprisingly, I liked how it felt—a lot. I couldn't figure out if it was merely platonic or more.

  "She didn't hate you," he said warmly. "I swear she didn't. She was mean sometimes, but it was just stupid high school social politics."

  I frowned, even though this should have been unequivocally good news. "Really? She actually didn't hate me?" His hand remained on mine, and I didn't want it to leave.

  "She never even mentioned you. Ever. Just because you guys rarely interacted didn't mean that you hated each other."

  "But everyone always told me stuff about her."

  "Yeah, that they made up. I felt bad for her. Her mom pushed her way too far sometimes. It seemed like she was dating a different guy every week, so Carla never had a real father figure."

  I took a deep breath and tried to slow down my racing heart. "God, I feel so stupid."

  I felt his fingers curl as they tightened around my own. "It's okay. We never talked about this stuff, so it had to happen sometime. And then there was everything with Mason. I mean, it really killed me, even though I didn't act like it. I wanted to run away from everything."

  I looked down at the table. "Me too."

  "And I mean, I'm so sorry for lashing out at you before the funeral. I completely lost it. The grief was too much. I hadn't slept for days at that point. I couldn't sleep after I saw him on the last night."

  I felt like I was staring straight into his soul, past his gorgeous eyes that would have normally obfuscated my view. "Was that... really you at the hospital that one night? I saw you turn away and then you were gone."

  Jesse started to talk, but then he stopped and swallowed. "Yeah. I saw you and panicked. I thought about showing up for weeks, but then the one time I did, you were right there." He looked down at the table. "I still regret that."

  "Don't," I said. "You were just caught off guard. I probably would have done the same." I took a sip of my Americano; it had cooled down significantly by then. "High school is tough," I said, hoping to steer away from the growing sadness.

  "I know. Even if someone paid me a million dollars, I wouldn't do it again."

  I felt a smile forming. "What if they paid you two million?"

  "No way," he retorted.

  "Jesse!" I shouted playfully. "Not for two million dollars? So how much would it take?"

  His hand slowly retracted from mine and returned to his side of the table. Although I disliked the lack of physical connection, the conversation was lightening up. "I'd say a cool five million."

  "Seriously?" I asked. "If someone offered you four million dollars, you wouldn't do it?"

  "Maybe, I would. I don't know."

  "Then why did you say five!" I started to laugh uncontrollably. This felt so familiar, this back and forth banter, these playful jabs.

  "It was just a confusing time. I don't know if I ever want to be that confused again. Everything changes. People change. Your body changes. Your feelings change."

  My gaze lowered to the table and then back up at him. "Yeah. Did you know I got kicked out of my house?"

  "Your mom was always kind of nuts," he said. "I mean, I heard you were living with Arielle. But I didn't know why."

  "I didn't really tell anyone, I guess," I said. "I didn't want the school to get involved."

  His expression softened, turned to compassion. "What happened?"

  I felt those old feelings blossoming again. Faster and faster they grew until they were on t
he tip of my tongue, translated into words and about to be spoken. "She said that God was killing Mason because we had sex before marriage. That I was a slut and being punished for it."

  I expected to feel tears trickling down my face, but they didn't come. I guess time had finally dulled the memories. I debated proceeding forward and mentioning my desperate prayer for clarity, but my lips didn't move.

  His face curled into an expression of disbelief. "Seriously, Naomi? She said that to you while Mason was dying? Is she actually insane?"

  Before I spoke another word, his hand was over mine again. It made me feel brave, made me feel stronger. "Yeah, she did. And then I left. I couldn't do it anymore. I never went back. I still haven't. Except for the day of the showing." My throat felt terribly dry, but I also didn't feel like drinking anything.

  "Yeah," he said, a look of shame on his face.

  I picked at the remaining quiche lump with my fork, "I went home that day. They wanted to attend 'as a family,' so I gave in because I didn't want to argue. Then I went back to Arielle's until we moved to NYC."

  "That's terrible," he said. "Your mom never should have spoken to you like that when you were so vulnerable."

  "She's never apologized either," I said quietly. "I haven't really spoken to my parents since that day. I mean, I talked to my dad for the first time in years right before I came to London, but only because I needed my social security card for my passport. It really sucks to feel so... distant."

  "I had no idea," he said. "And then I threw a hissy fit right in front of you and the charred remains of your destroyed nuclear family." He scoffed. "So horrible of me."

  I laughed weakly. "No, you're fine. I mean, you're here apologizing. I don't think my mom could ever do that."

  "Who knows," Jesse said hopefully. "Maybe time has changed her."

  "Seems unlikely," I muttered. "Anyhow, I haven't really done anything since... well, that whole thing. I feel like such a loser after hearing about your big company and everything. I just work a stupid, meaningless job and leech off of Arielle's dad with her."

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I mean, we're still really tiny," he said, talking himself down. "And it's been tons of work with barely any reward at all so far. We still might fail."