Maybe You

by Marie Landry

  My attention shifts to the cup of tea beside me, and I glare at the liquid. For the last few weeks I’ve tried every kind of tea I could get my hands on, and every time I have it with milk it tastes disgusting. I don’t know what kind of magic Kieran performed to make his tea drinkable, but apparently I’m not meant to know the secret. That hasn’t stopped me from trying, though.

  With a sigh, I heave myself out of my desk chair. I need to get outside in the sunshine, even though I don’t know where to go or what to do. I don’t want to be the kind of person who calls up a friend at the last minute because they’re bored or restless. I can’t afford to spend much money, and window-shopping is no fun when you’ve carefully budgeted almost every cent for the next several months.

  I’m contemplating crawling into bed—it’s early spring, after all, there’ll be plenty of nice days ahead—when my phone rings. I grab it from the desk, hesitating when I see it’s an unknown number. After the third ring, I answer it; it’s not like I have anything else to do.

  “Meredith?” asks a voice I vaguely recognize. I confirm it’s me, and the person says, “Hi! I’m so glad I got the right number. It’s Fiona Murphy. We met a couple years ago when you did that tour with On the Go Adventures?”

  It takes me a minute to place the name, and then Fiona’s face pops into my mind with perfect clarity—auburn hair, sparkling brown eyes, dazzling smile, and more confidence than I could ever dream of possessing. On the Go Adventures hired me a few years ago to test out a new UK tour and write an extensive article-slash-review for their website and various promo material. Fiona was the guide, and we ended up spending a good chunk of our free time together once we discovered our love of travel wasn’t the only thing we had in common.

  “Of course,” I say, smiling for what feels like the first time in days. “It’s good to hear from you, Fiona. How are you?”

  “I’m great, thanks. Still working for On the Go and living in London. That’s where I’m calling from now, actually. I just got back from a two-week trip to Ireland.”

  Ireland. Of course. Because I need more reminders of Kieran when he’s all I think about anyway.

  I ask her for details, feeling more envious by the second. Before Mom got sick, my life wasn’t all that different from Fiona’s. I was a solo traveler, working and writing for the local travel agency, plus doing freelance work and taking sponsored trips. I loved my life and the freedom to come and go as I pleased. It’s just another thing I’m currently missing.

  “Anyway, listen Meredith,” Fiona says after we’ve updated each other on our lives, “I’m calling to see if you’d like to apply for a position as a guide with On the Go. There are a few spots open, and they wanted the more seasoned guides to recommend people they thought would be a good fit. You were one of the first people I thought of.”

  My heart soars at the same time as my stomach drops. This isn’t the first time Fiona has asked me to apply for a guide job at On the Go; the first time was just a few months after we met. I was happy doing my freelance gig at the time, so I thanked her and turned her down. Now, though…now I’d give anything to be able to drop everything, hop on a plane to London, stride into On the Go’s headquarters, and apply for the job.

  But I can’t. I may not be able to see my mom, but she’s only an hour away if she ever needed me. And while I know the guides make decent money, I’d have to go through six weeks of intensive training first, during which time I wouldn’t have much income. Not to mention I’d have to figure out something to do with my house while I was gone, possibly screwing things up for Celia in the process. Plus I’d have to quit my job working for Hugh and Ivy. There are just too many variables and responsibilities here to leave.

  My heart feels like it’s still lodged somewhere in my esophagus as I swallow hard. “I-I…y-you…” I cringe at my own stammering, but Fiona laughs, probably assuming I’m too stunned for words. “You have no idea how much it means that you’d think of me, Fee. I can’t do it, though. There’s just too much going on here right now for me to leave.”

  Fiona groans. “I was worried you’d say that. I had to at least try. Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing I can say to convince you? I’ve been told I can offer to fly you over here for free if that helps.”

  Now it’s my turn to groan. My throat tickles and my eyes sting, and I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or cry. “I wish I could, believe me.”

  “Maybe someday, eh?” Fiona says. “In the meantime, maybe we’ll run into each other on our travels. I’d love to party with you again. That night in Edinburgh still ranks as one of all-time favorites.”

  I laugh weakly. I was so drunk that night I barely remember any details beyond a lot of laughter, sweaty dancing, and possibly a drunken kiss or two. “I’d love to see you again too,” I tell her, not bothering to mention my traveling days are over, at least for now.

  We talk for another couple of minutes and ring off with a promise to add each other on Facebook. Feeling about a million times worse than I already did, I stumble to my feet and back to my closet. Barely noticing what I pull from the hangers, I get dressed and leave the house, hoping sunshine will burn away my melancholy.

  *****

  Bypassing my car, I start walking with no real destination in mind. I attempt to shut off my brain and allow my feet to go where they want. Apparently, they want to go downtown because that’s where I end up, even though I barely remember getting here.

  Slowing my pace, I check out the names of the shops and eateries around me. I rarely come downtown because I work and shop on the outskirts of the city, so there’s no reason for me to come down here. Despite not wanting to window shop, I can’t help stopping in front of a few displays. I tell myself it’s research to take back to Ivy, who works with Bridget on PR and marketing for the Village.

  I’ve just moved away from an elaborate game setup in the window of a toyshop when I see someone who looks like Kieran duck into a store a few doors down. My heart stops. For the last few weeks, I’ve looked for him nearly everywhere I go. Running into him would be awkward and a test of my willpower, and yet that doesn’t stop me from hoping it’ll happen. I guess I’m a masochist.

  Kieran and I shared one kiss. One. It’s not like we were in a committed relationship or even slept together. We saw each other a total of three times and shared one kiss. But it was a mind-blowing kiss. A kiss unlike any I’ve ever had. And it may have only been three encounters, but I can’t remember ever feeling such an instant connection with someone.

  What makes it worse is the fact I have his phone number. I haven’t been able to bring myself to delete it, even though I should. I know where he lives and where he goes to school. I could show up at his door and tell him I made a mistake and we should see where this leads, but it wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I have too much going on between work and my mom and whatever is happening with me mentally and emotionally. I don’t need any extra complications in my life.

  And because of that, I should keep walking. I should turn in the opposite direction and forget I saw him. My feet are still running the show, though, because they shuffle toward the door he just went through. I slip inside the building, not even bothering to see what it is. I’m greeted by a slightly musty scent and the sound of music crackling through wall-mounted speakers that look like they were made a decade or two before I was born.

  I’ve heard of this place—Bellevue Records. They buy and sell records, cassettes, and CDs, along with music paraphernalia and collectibles. I smile when I realize the song playing is “With or Without You” by U2. I’m transported back to lazy afternoons in Kitty’s dorm room, listening to Joshua Tree and eating her mom’s cookies. Nostalgia rolls over me; it’s not much different than the melancholy I felt earlier.

  Venturing deeper into the store, I peer around for maybe-Kieran. I spot a head of dark curls disappearing down a row of colorful records, so I follow. This place is like a maze, stretching on farther than I imagined, and branchi
ng off into aisles of varying lengths and widths. I turn a corner and run smack into a broad chest.

  My gaze flies up to meet a pair of amused eyes. Brown eyes. I give myself a swift inner kick; other than the mop of unruly hair, this guy looks nothing like Kieran. He’s much taller and more muscular. Just another case of my brain playing tricks on me.

  “S-sorry,” I stammer, backing away and bumping into a rack of cassette tapes that rattle almost as hard as my nerves.

  “No problem.” The guy gives me what I’m sure he thinks is a charming smile. “Feel free to bump into me anytime.”

  There was a time when I might have laughed and asked if that line ever worked. It might have led to a little harmless flirting and who knows what else. I don’t have the energy for that today, though, so I simply force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace, and I walk away.

  Except what I thought was the general direction of the exit turns out to be a dead end. I was so busy attempting to hunt down non-Kieran I didn’t pay attention to the many twists and turns I took through the rows. Catching sight of the Exit sign, I head in that direction. My feet stall again when I round a corner and spot the vintage Joshua Tree poster Kitty has hanging in her dorm room. Underneath it is a bin of used U2 CDs. On impulse, I rummage through it, find a copy of Joshua Tree, and take it with me. Might as well really sink into this whole masochist thing.

  Finally finding my way to the front of the store, I pay for the CD. As I step away from the front counter, I bump into someone for the second time in less than ten minutes.

  “Meredith?”

  Surprised laughter spills from my lips. “Kitty? I was just thinking about you. In fact…” I pull the CD out of my purse, where I stuffed it after declining a plastic bag. “I just bought this because it reminded me of you.”

  Kitty smiles broadly, her eyes brightening when they land on the CD in my hand. “Excellent choice.” She raises her eyes to mine again and her smile falters almost imperceptibly. She pushes her glasses up on her nose and tucks a dark curl behind her ear. “I-I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but I’ve missed you. I went to request you on the companion site the other week and couldn’t find your profile. I remembered you saying once that you could hide it from people if you no longer wanted to work with them, so…” She trails off, her cheeks flooding with color.

  “Oh. Oh! No! No, no, no.” I reach out for her, stopping and letting my hand drop before it meets her arm. “That’s not what happened, I promise. I had—have—some personal stuff going on, and I needed a break from the site. I’m sorry you thought that.”

  Kitty lifts one shoulder in what appears to be a casual shrug, except I don’t miss the relief in her eyes. “It’s all right. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She pauses. “You are okay, right?”

  Am I? Not really. Kitty doesn’t need to know that, though; it’s not like our relationship was ever anything more than business. “I will be,” I say with a forced smile. All my smiles seem to be forced lately. “How about you? Everything okay? Did you find another companion on the site?”

  “I didn’t, no,” she says slowly. “I decided I’d wait to see what my therapist suggested, and in the meantime, I ran into Petra…”

  “Oh yeah? And?”

  “And…we started seeing each other. Casually,” she adds in a rush when my eyes widen. “But it’s been good. Really good.”

  Now my smile is genuine. “That’s great, Kitty. I’m so happy for you. And see, you don’t need me anymore anyway.”

  Her lips lift in a half smile. “Well, I don’t know about that. The not needing you anymore part, I mean.” She drops her gaze and scuffs the toe of her sneaker along the worn carpet. “I know I wasn’t supposed to get attached to you. It was supposed to be a working relationship and nothing more. I felt safe with you, though. I felt like you saw me in a way no one else did. You never seemed to see me as the weirdo I saw in the mirror, the one I was afraid other people saw when they looked at me.”

  A swell of emotion clogs my throat. “I’m glad I could help you, Kitty. And since we’re being honest, I always felt more for you than I probably should.”

  She’s quiet for a moment. She’s wearing what I always thought of as her ‘deep thinking expression’—the one she’d get when she was considering whether to say something out loud or ask a question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to. Finally, she says, “You never talked much about yourself, and I know that’s par for the course with your job. So I don’t actually know you all that well, but…well…” She raises her chin and meets my gaze head on. “It looks like you could use a hug.”

  I press my lips together to hold in a laugh. Or maybe a sob, who knows. I’m afraid if I open my mouth, one or both will come spilling out, so I just bob my head and open my arms. Kitty steps into them like she’s done so many times before, except it’s not really like before. This time, she’s the strong one, and I’m…well, I don’t know what I am.

  Breathing in her familiar scent of sugar cookies and vanilla, I close my eyes and accept the comfort she’s giving freely. I imagine the oxytocin releasing into my bloodstream. The world carries on around us; people come and go from the record store, and a new song starts over the crackly speakers.

  When we release each other, we’re both smiling. The loose, relaxed feeling I haven’t experienced in way too long reminds me why I loved my job with HTC. Why I miss it. Maybe I should sign up as a client and get my own companion.

  “That’ll be five dollars,” Kitty says.

  I know she’s kidding, but her words give me an idea. I’ve spent countless hours thinking about my conversation with Ivy a few weeks ago and how she said I was hiding behind my job as a companion. She was right, of course, which is part of the reason I took a break from the site. But the old me—the one who believed anything was possible and looked for signs and believed the universe had her back—can’t help thinking I ran into Kitty today for a reason.

  “I probably shouldn’t do this, and you can totally say no if you’re not comfortable, but…can I buy you a coffee?” The words come out in a rush. Kitty’s inscrutable expression makes me wonder if she even understood what I said. When something akin to embarrassment flashes over her face, I blurt, “Never mind. It was a stupid idea. Forget I asked.” I turn away, my face burning. This just reinforces why I put rules into place and why they’re not meant to be broken. Kitty and I aren’t friends and—

  “Make it a smoothie and you’re on,” Kitty says.

  I pause with my hand stretched toward the door. “Really? Are you sure? You can honestly forget I said anything and we can go about our lives as usual.”

  “I don’t want to forget it.” She looks determined now. The set of her mouth, paired with the color in her cheeks suddenly reminds me how young she is. “You’re not a companion anymore, right? Which means we can be friends now. If it helps, you can pretend we met today and bonded over our love of Joshua Tree.”

  I laugh, opening the door and holding it open for her. “Deal.”

  Maybe the universe still has my back after all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  At Kitty’s gentle urging, I attend several group therapy sessions with her over the next few weeks. She goes to traditional one-on-one sessions with a therapist, but the group is run for free by the college for students—and occasionally their friends, apparently—who need someone to talk to without necessarily wanting formal therapy.

  I’ve spent the sessions sipping tea—milkless now—and listening to others talk. I see a lot of myself in many of the people who are struggling with depression, but I’m still not completely convinced I’m dealing with anything more serious than situational depression. Not that my situation is going to change any time soon.

  Despite that and despite the constant ache in my heart, I’m attempting to adjust to what I call my ‘new normal’. Being friends with Kitty has been exactly the distraction I needed, and it’s also given me an unexpected sense of purpose. Our relation
ship is similar to what it was when I was simply her companion, but now it goes both ways. I confided in her about my mom, which is part of the reason she suggested the group therapy sessions. When we’re on our own, I’m adept at keeping the focus mostly on her and getting her to talk about herself.

  It helps that she’s young and fun and essentially just starting out in life. She sees things differently than I do, and she’s given me a fresh perspective in a lot of ways. She hasn’t let life knock her down, despite the hardships she’s experienced in her twenty years, and I admire her for that. She embodies a lot of the traits I did at that age…hell, traits I had up until recently: idealistic and hopeful.

  With our jam-packed schedules, we often have to get creative about spending time together. We meet up at the college library for Kitty to study and for me to work on travel articles, and we always get to group therapy early so we can talk alone for a few minutes. Tonight we’re trying something different: meeting at the school cafeteria for dinner. I almost bailed because I’m starting work an hour early this week, but Kitty reasoned I had to eat regardless, so it might as well be with her.

  “The food here is surprisingly good,” she says to me, not for the first time, as we pick up trays and get in line. I think she’s trying to convince me driving halfway across town and eating while surrounded by hundreds of other people will be worth it.

  If I’m being perfectly honest with myself—because I can’t tell Kitty this—my early schedule tomorrow isn’t the only reason for not wanting to come tonight. I’ve slowly become more comfortable opening up to Kitty when we’re alone, but I haven’t told her about Kieran. I’ve convinced myself it’s because of confidentiality reasons and not because talking about him reminds me I’m an idiot who missed out on something that could have been great.