Beautiful Together

by Andrea Wolfe

  "Well, at least you're trying," I said without really realizing what I was saying.

  "What the hell is stopping you from trying, Naomi?" His eyes cut right into mine, heavy, powerful hazel orbs that almost hurt. Jesse had instantly reached a level of intensity I hadn't anticipated.

  "I don't know," I mumbled, feeling a bit disoriented. "I don't know what to do."

  "You're hiding because it seems too big. And if you keep seeing it as an insurmountable feat, you'll never get over it. I mean, you can only do a little bit at a time. We had the same problem when we started coding. But when we reduced it to 'one day at a time' instead of 'how the hell are we going to finish a huge program like this,' we finally got somewhere."

  His words cut deep into my heart. "Well, I... I did talk to Arielle's cousin about veterinary school," I said, blindly muttering the words, hoping that they would somehow make me feel like less of a failure. "She's about to graduate. I don't know if I really want to do that or not, but I might."

  "That's perfect," he said, his tone upbeat and positive. "Run with that. Research schools. Volunteer at an animal shelter to see if you really like the work. You're totally capable, Naomi. You were one of the smartest people in our whole school."

  "Yeah, until I started smoking pot," I said pathetically.

  "Oh, whatever. It's not the weed, you're just not trying. I'm sure you've still got it. There are tons of opportunities in NYC. Probably more than anywhere else in the world."

  "Yeah." I stared off into space, struggling to process all that he was saying. It was way more than I had expected.

  His fingers twitched, reminding me of our tactile connection again. "I'm getting carried away again," Jesse said. "It's not like you asked me to be your life coach or something. And I'm not even certified to do that anyway." He paused and smiled. "I think we should get out of here and do something fun."

  "Like what?" I asked, still reeling from his trenchant analysis of my messy life.

  "Let's go to Buckingham Palace. Maybe we can catch the changing of the guards." I watched him try to read my numb expression, which obviously wasn't giving him much to work with. "I mean... if you've got time or whatever."

  I sat for a moment and then looked down at my cell phone—almost two hours had already passed. I realized how good it felt to have a short break from The Wild World of Arielle.

  Maybe this would be fun, a genuine change of pace. "Yeah, sure," I said. "Let's go exploring. I've got plenty of time." I shot him a wry grin. "It's not like I have a curfew."

  Jesse laughed. "Great. This is my only day off on this trip, so I could really use a break."

  "Me too," I said. "I haven't been working, but we have been partying pretty hard."

  "That'll do it."

  We bussed our table and then headed out into the London air. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, the temperature mild and comfortable. After heading into the Tube station, we went straight to Buckingham Palace. But to our dismay, we already missed the ceremony.

  "Shit," Jesse complained. "Well, I guess I should have looked it up before dragging us all the way here."

  I smiled. "It's fine. At least we got to see the guards."

  We were against the fence in front of Buckingham Palace, staring at the four guards on duty. They were standing totally still, wearing their iconic red coats and tall bearskin caps. Suddenly, the one closest to us sprang into motion and did his exaggerated march down the square and back again.

  I jumped a little as it happened, feeling like I had witnessed a statue coming to life. "I didn't expect him to move," I said to Jesse, clutching his arm.

  He laughed. "I don't think they stand still for more than ten minutes."

  We stayed for a few more minutes, satisfied with what we had seen. However, right as we were about to leave, there was a loud cackle of laughter from a group of tourists who weren't speaking English. They were teenagers, goofing around loudly and climbing on the fence.

  "Oh, shit," Jesse said, motioning toward them. "They'd better stop screwing around. Those guys don't mess around."

  Just as he said it, the guard suddenly moved, rotating his rifle from one shoulder to the other. The offenders still didn't stop.

  "What's gonna happen?" I asked, suddenly feeling terrified.

  "Those are loaded weapons," Jesse said softly. "I guess I don't know. I sure hope they stop."

  Still, they continued jumped around, behaving rambunctiously. The guard remained laser-focused on them, stone-faced, unfazed, rifle resting against his arm.

  Suddenly, he stomped his feet, and raised his rifle toward the group. My heart skipped a dozen beats.

  "Stay off the fence!" he screamed.

  Would he actually shoot them?

  The teens shouted fearfully and scattered in all directions. The guard returned the rifle to his shoulder, and relief hit me like a cold shower on the hottest day of the year.

  "Oh my God," I said, totally out of breath, clutching Jesse's arm. I didn't even remember grabbing him, yet here I was, face stuck to his shoulder like my skin was covered in super glue.

  "Well, I certainly didn't expect to see that," he said soberly.

  "Would he have... actually shot them?"

  Jesse stood for a moment, expression stoic. "I don't think so. Probably would have arrested them, though. He could have done that, I'm sure."

  "Still, he was pointing a gun! At basically kids!" I chided.

  "They take their jobs seriously," Jesse said. "And they were being assholes. They probably learned their lesson."

  I shrugged my shoulders and pulled away from him. "Let's get going before someone else starts causing trouble," I said. "I feel like I just chugged a hundred shot espresso." I breathed in the cool air and looked away from the bright sun.

  "Adrenaline is much cheaper than coffee," Jesse laughed. He put his arm around my shoulder as we walked away from the action. Of all the things I could have witnessed, it was a member of the Queen's Guard pointing a loaded rifle at a group of rowdy teens.

  Insane.

  Leaving the excitement of Buckingham Palace behind us, we got on another train and headed to the Shoreditch area, wandering through the shops near Amy's place. After digging through music in a record store for a while—oddly enough, even after all this time apart Jesse and I still seemed to have similar tastes in music—we ended up in a Chinese tea store, sipping oolong tea in an unfamiliar ritual.

  We sat on tiny wooden benches around a prep area with an electric kettle. The woman leading the ritual kept interminably pouring us tiny cupfuls of tea steeped from the same leaves every time, telling us that we'd be able to pick up different flavors every time.

  While I didn't believe her assertions at first, once I had my second sip, I knew she was right—it did taste different every time, sometimes with floral hints, other times more bitter or sweet, sometimes milder overall.

  We kept drinking and drinking until we finally realized that she was going to keep pouring tea until we actually left. The woman seemed so sad to see us go, even though we didn't buy anything and drank twenty cups of free tea.

  And after consuming that much liquid, we had to sneak into a coffee shop bathroom before we could go any farther.

  Our conversation flowed so naturally; so reminiscent of the old days that it made me forget that those times were so long ago.

  Even more than before, I couldn't figure it out. Why did things fall apart? I hadn't had this much fun in years, and that was so obvious it almost made me sick.

  As we walked past a tiny art house theater, Jesse suddenly stopped abruptly, his mouth agape, like he had run face first into an invisible wall.

  "Holy shit. Oh. My. God." His neck cranked backward at an almost unnatural angle.

  I stared back at him, thoroughly confused. "What? Is somebody else pointing a loaded gun at kids?"

  "Look at that marquee," he said, excitedly pointing above him. "Naomi, look at what's playing tonight!"

  I stared up at the
sign:

  Retro Horror Month Continues:

  Tonight @ 7PM—Blood Lake

  "Blood Lake?" I asked quizzically. "That sounds really familiar."

  Jesse grabbed my shoulders, his expression both pained and happy. "Naomi, that's the movie! The one we watched before Halloween! I can't believe it's playing here right now. God, of all the possible horror films they could have been playing." He grinned. "Boob Lake, remember?"

  It took me a second to catch up with his flurry of words, but the joke at the end made it clear that he was right. "Whoa, seriously?" I asked. I tried to picture the DVD case, but my mind was still blank.

  "Look at the poster!" he said, pointing at the wall. "Look!"

  It hit me like a freight train—yep, that was it, all right. Those blood-soaked words oozing down the front. The movie, all right. Our last movie. Back when times were more innocent, when life was so much simpler. It was like we had stepped into a time machine.

  "Okay, we're definitely going," I said. "What time is it now?"

  "It starts in two hours," he said, looking at his phone. "I say we grab dinner and then get our asses back here ASAP."

  "Yeah, yeah, that sounds good."

  What I had expected to be nothing but an awkward and brief coffee shop chat session had become something far more substantial and meaningful, an afternoon of adventure and inimitable nostalgia.

  This was one hell of a day—and it was only dinner time.

  "I cannot believe this," he said, shaking his head. "While we're both in London too."

  I looked back at him, unable to hide my own big smile. He just looked... so handsome. Jesse had become a man since we last watched that movie. His facial hair was so much denser now. I remembered glancing at it periodically throughout the movie when we were sixteen, shocked that he wasn't so young anymore then.

  Now he was a college graduate with a hot, blossoming business venture, visiting London on investor money. Things were very different.

  And despite my own general apathy toward self-progress, I didn't feel so inadequate in that moment. Regardless of what I was doing externally—and whether or not it actually amounted to anything—I felt whole.

  Next to my old friend and confidante, I felt like a person. A real person.

  "Let's find a place to eat," Jesse said, interrupting my dreamy train of thoughts.

  "Of course." I was actually starting to get hungry again after consuming so much caffeine. My heart rate was still elevated.

  Our arms locked together, we strolled down the sidewalks, perusing signs, looking for a great place for dinner. "How fancy do you wanna get?" Jesse asked.

  "It doesn't have to be that fancy," I said. "I don't want to break the bank over a single meal."

  "I'll take care of it," he said. "Don't worry about it. And this is a special occasion, after all."

  "You don't have to," I pleaded. "I mean, I have my own money too."

  We split up to dodge a noisy group of college guys who didn't even seem to notice us and reconnected after they were behind us. "It's a business expense," Jesse said with a wry smile. "And I'll get reimbursed if I save the receipts. We have a high per diem for food every day. Some of the guys have been getting really nice dinners."

  I laughed. "So that's why you're willing to pay," I said playfully. "It's not that you're a gentleman—you just want the expense write-off. Typical Jesse Evans. Just the way I remember you."

  "Hey, that's not true at all," he said defensively. "I paid for us both sometimes."

  "I'm kidding," I said. "But it's still funny to hear you act like such a... professional."

  "Well, get used to it," he said cockily. "Dolphin is taking over the e-commerce world!"

  "I sincerely hope you do," I added warmly.

  After circling a few blocks, we finally settled on a French restaurant that had a good Yelp rating. Restaurants were so ubiquitous on some of the blocks that it was nearly impossible to make a choice. So Jesse whipped out his phone and did some quick research.

  We ended up drinking two bottles of wine—Jesse's suggestion, but I was perfectly fine with it—and eating plenty of cheese and bread and olive tapenade prior to our meals arriving. I got duck confit and Jesse got steak frites.

  Everything was ridiculously tasty, and paired with the wine it was out of this world. And then we shared créme brûlée for dessert.

  "This is so good," he kept moaning between bites.

  "I know," I said. "This is one of the best meals I've ever had."

  "Well, I'm glad I could be here for such a huge milestone," Jesse said, pausing from dessert to wipe with his napkin and sip more wine. The second bottle was almost gone, and we were both quite drunk.

  I couldn't stop smiling at Jesse. He looked so confident, so cute, so happy. And next on the schedule was Blood Lake, a movie that, although it was pretty silly, was still super important to both of us for obvious sentimental reasons.

  After the check was paid—and Jesse had taken a snapshot of the receipt with his phone—we drunkenly stumbled back out into the emerging chill of the evening.

  "I think we should walk a couple extra blocks," I said. "To burn some calories."

  "I was thinking the same thing," he said with a smile.

  Although it was tough due to our inebriation, we managed to get in a fifteen minute walk before arriving back at the theater. When we arrived, a line had already formed out front. The mood was great, everybody standing around smiling and laughing. Some people were even wearing Blood Lake t-shirts.

  "Did we dress inappropriately?" I asked. "Should I be wearing a blood-soaked t-shirt too?"

  "What, like a bloody wet t-shirt competition? If you did, you'd win for sure." He shot me a sleazy wink and I cringed.

  "That's disgusting, Jesse," I said. "I would never do that."

  "What about for four million dollars?"

  "No way!"

  "What about five?"

  I figured out what he was up to and crossed my hands over my chest and started giggling. "Hey, you're not pulling that one on me! I'm smarter than that. I'm done answering questions for tonight, good sir."

  He shook his head. "I would definitely do a bloody wet t-shirt contest for five million dollars. As long as it was like, animal blood or something. I think you're crazy."

  I scoffed. "Well, I happen to think you're crazy too."

  "Then maybe we're perfect for each other," he joked.

  "Yeah, well, maybe we're both too crazy to figure it out." I stood there grinning like an idiot. I just couldn't stop smiling.

  "I like that blouse you're wearing anyway. I don't think a bloody t-shirt would look better. Maybe you are right about all of this."

  I blushed, surprised by the abrupt compliment. "Thanks," I said. I decided to return the favor. "I think you look hot as hell in that black jacket."

  "And just how hot is hell?"

  I winked. "Seriously hot."

  We continued goofing around until we finally reached the front, bought our tickets, and then headed into the theater. It was a packed house, but we managed to find two seats together on the balcony, the view at a weird angle, but still good.

  The inside of the building was really cool, the rooms asymmetrical and odd. It was old, filled with relics from so many years before. The walls were lined with faded paintings. There were actual stages in front of the movie screens, meaning that plays probably took place here as well. Or they used to take place.

  "I would ask if you wanted popcorn or candy," Jesse started, "but I think I already know the answer."

  I patted my overstuffed stomach. "I'd explode if I ate anything else."

  "And I'd hate to be right next to you when that happened."

  A few minutes after we sat down, the movie began. It started with several trailers for other old horror movies from around the same era, all of them featuring a psychotic killer, a bunch of naked girls, a bunch of sex, and a bunch of bloodshed, sometimes in that order, sometimes not.

  Everyon
e was whistling and acting rowdy. We joined in too, cheering and shouting, emboldened by our inebriation.

  After the trailers, the movie began, and instantly, I recognized the opening scene in which a ditsy—and very busty—girl and her boyfriend head into the woods for a picnic and dive into sex even before eating. And in the middle of their passionate act, they're brutally murdered with an axe.

  The nostalgia hit me like a sucker punch when the title came on the screen and that familiar spooky theme began. I almost felt like I was going to cry. I looked over at Jesse Evans, my old friend who I never thought I'd ever speak to again, my old friend who had disappeared from my life for so long. For too long. He seemed so happy, so satisfied and calm.

  He looked just as happy as I felt.

  We were reunited, watching this trashy old movie together in London after a chance meeting in the middle of the night. Tears actually did form in my eyes, but I didn't cry beyond that. I wiped them off on my sleeve and then tried to get back into the movie.

  I had every reason in the world to feel happy.

  "Too bad we don't have any M+M's and popcorn," Jesse said during the middle of the show.

  "Shut up," I said, my stomach still ridiculously full. I regretted my gluttony—but only a little bit.

  Everything happened exactly the way I remembered, even though I hadn't thought about the movie in years. I still knew how every scene was going to play out as soon as it began.

  "I love this part!" Jesse shouted as the killer chopped off another poor boyfriend's head with a machete. Blood sprayed out like a fountain.

  "Eww," I whined, half-closing my eyes. It wasn't realistic at all—well, I guess I wasn't totally sure since I hadn't ever witnessed a real life decapitation; I was totally fine with that—but it was still gross. It seemed like they were using gallons of fake blood for every single slice.

  Jesse just kept laughing and laughing. And it was contagious, because I laughed too. The movie was hilarious now, and the funniest part of all was that it had actually been a little scary for me back when we watched it as teens.

  That seemed utterly impossible now. This was ridiculous.