Maybe You

by Marie Landry

  “But just like no one really tells you how hard it is to make friends as an adult, they also don’t tell you how hard it is to maintain those friendships. Bridget and I were together almost all the time until she met David. I was thrilled for her, and yet envious because I missed how things were and I wanted what she had. And then just as we found a new sort of balance, I met Hugh and things were thrown off again. And around the same time, I became friends with you and Piper. Plus there’s Celia and our formerly complicated relationship that turned into a strong bond. I love you all so much and I just want to make sure I’m being a good friend.”

  I slide to the edge of my seat so I’m closer to her. “Are you kidding? You’re an amazing friend. Always have been. You co-run this whole huge operation, help Bridget with the PR, and help with the bookstore. I think we all understand the amount of time that takes and the pressure that comes with it.”

  She smiles weakly. “Thank you. I mean, of all the ‘problems’ to have, this is obviously minor. Wah, poor me, I have too many friends and not enough time.”

  I laugh. “I’m in the same boat, so I totally get it.”

  “Well, as long as you keep rowing with me, I know we’ll stay afloat.” She scrunches up her nose. “Was that too cheesy?”

  “Not at all.” It’s actually the perfect analogy. Maybe I should hop off this merry-go-round I’ve been on and jump into a boat where all the people I love are helping me row. “Not to change the subject abruptly, but I really should get back to work. I just have one more question: did you ever talk to Hugh about the baby thing?”

  Ivy drains her coffee and sets the cup on my desk. “I did. We decided we’re going to put off having kids for the next two years while we get the Village running smoothly, get married, travel a bit, and settle into our lives as a married couple. When the two years are up, we’ll reassess, see how we feel, and decide if we’re ready, want to put it off longer, or not have kids at all. But we also promised each other if in those two years one of us makes up their mind definitively one way or the other, we need to talk about it.”

  “Very mature,” I tell her, nodding my approval.

  “We thought so.” She shoots a grin my way and pushes herself to her feet. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever find love, and then Hugh came along and changed my world. I want to enjoy our time together just the two of us before we potentially add another human life into the mix.”

  “You mean you want to keep having lots of sex and travel whenever you want to and spend all your free time with your super hot husband?”

  Now it’s Ivy’s turn to snort. “You know me too well.” She presses her lips together and her eyes drift past me, seeming far away. “There are people who say it’s selfish when a woman decides not to have a baby. But I think it’s more selfish to do something out of a sense of obligation. I would never want a child to feel unwanted or resented, because I know how that feels.”

  “I don’t believe for a second you’d ever make a child feel that way, Ivy.”

  Her eyes snap back to mine. “Oh, I know. If we ever do have a baby, I’ll love it wholeheartedly and give it the best life possible. But you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do.” I likely would have grown up that way if my mom hadn’t adopted me. I stand and face Ivy, holding out my arms. She steps into them and we hug each other long and tight. “I hope you know even if you agreed with ‘those people’ and thought it was selfish not to have a kid, you’re allowed to be selfish. It’s your life.”

  “And that, Meredith Cormier, is just one of the many reasons I love you.” Ivy steps back, planting a loud kiss on my cheek. “I need to go. Thanks for the coffee and chat. They were both much needed.” She heads for the door and spins around before she reaches it. “We should do a double date! I need to meet Kieran immediately, and you know Hugh will want to meet him too. I say I’m going back to work, but I think we both know I’m headed straight to Hugh’s office to tell him all about your new boyfriend.”

  God, I love her. “Okay. Talk to Hugh and I’ll talk to Kieran and we’ll figure out a time.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not just saying that, right?”

  “Of course not. You and Hugh are my two best friends. I want you to meet Kieran.”

  Her smile lights her whole face. “Okay, good. Let’s aim for this week or next.”

  “You got it. Say hi to my favorite Scot for me.”

  She opens the door and sends me a little finger wave. “Will do. Love ya!” she calls over her shoulder.

  “Love you too,” I say, even though she’s already gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Meredith? Hey, Sunshine, wake up.”

  For some reason there are tiny building blocks wedged under my cheek. My eyes fly open and I’m greeted by black plastic. My computer keyboard? What the—

  I bolt upright, my head smacking into something solid behind me. The ‘something’ makes a grunting sound, followed by a quiet, “Ow.”

  “Ow,” I echo, rubbing the back of my head.

  Kieran moves into sight and kneels beside my chair. “You fell asleep at your desk again.”

  I glance at my black computer screen. The first time this happened I thought I’d killed my computer with some weird combination of buttons pushed by my face while I was asleep. Turns out I’d managed to hit the Sleep button and my nosedive onto the keyboard only resulted in a few odd letters in the document I’d been working on.

  “Come to bed,” Kieran says, straightening to his full height.

  “Oh, but I should—”

  “Come to bed, Meredith,” he says more firmly. He’s wearing plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt with a worn logo for some pub in Dublin. His hair is mussed, telling me he must have fallen asleep waiting for me. Again. He’s been sleeping over a few nights a week since late evenings are one of the few times we’re both free and can squeeze in a few hours together.

  My bleary eyes return to the blank computer screen. I heard from my friend Fiona in London again a week or so ago. She asked me one more time if I’d reconsider coming to work with her. When I said I couldn’t, she offered me something else: a paid position writing travel pieces.

  “I was browsing travel articles the other day, and imagine my surprise when I noticed a post about Scotland had a byline by a certain fellow Canadian I met once upon a time,” she’d said, a smile evident in her voice. She went on to tell me On the Go Adventures is looking for seasoned travel writers to contribute to their blog. She told me she’d shown some of my articles to one of her bosses and they asked her to contact me. The pay is enough that I no longer have to hold my breath, cross my fingers, and hope sites will accept my freelance articles.

  “Come on, Sunshine,” Kieran says, gently gripping my arm and helping me to my feet. “Time to get off that merry-go-round and get some sleep.”

  After my meeting with Ivy week before last, I told Kieran about my personal analogy of feeling like I was on a merry-go-round and Ivy’s analogy of rowing a boat with help from others. I also confessed I still hadn’t told my friends what a difficult time I’ve been having coming to grips with my mom’s illness. Kieran urged me to confide in them; he’s right, of course, but actually working up the courage and finding the time to do it is another story.

  As if on cue, Kieran asks, “Have you talked to Ivy yet? Or Hugh?” The four of us went out for dinner together last week, and my friends loved Kieran as much as I knew they would. The feeling was mutual, and apparently Kieran and Hugh have even made plans to hike together in a few weeks.

  I groan and stumble toward the bed, flinging myself face down.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Kieran,” I whine. I just want to go back to sleep. In my bed this time, with my head on his chest instead of plastered to hard plastic.

  “Aye, I know, I’m a terrible boyfriend for suggesting you talk to your two best friends about the things weighing on your soul.” The bed dips as he sits on the edge.
A moment later, he flops back and I raise my head to peek at him. His arms are open and his eyebrows are high on his forehead. With a sigh, I scoot toward him and settle myself against his chest.

  “You’re the best boyfriend,” I tell him, my voice thick with sleep.

  “Mm, I know. And that’s why I’ll say again I think you should talk to them. Not only is Hugh your friend, he’s a trained psychologist. I’m sure he could help you in a lot of ways. And…”

  “And what?”

  His breath ruffles the hair on top of my head. “And they’ve both lost their parents. They know what you’re going through.”

  I must be getting used to talking about this with him because his words don’t make sadness wash over me. There’s a little niggling in my mind and a pinch in my heart, but it’s not all consuming like it was when we first started talking about my mom.

  “It’s not good to keep it all bottled up, Meredith,” Kieran says softly, pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

  “I’m not anymore, though. I have you.” The man is a saint. We were together for all of five minutes before I dumped my whole life story on him, and I’ve shed more tears in front of him than I have in front of anyone else in my entire life. He’s so patient and understanding, sometimes I half wonder if all of this—reuniting with him, being with him—is a beautiful dream.

  “You do, and I will always be here to listen to you. But you need your friends too.” His arms tighten around me. “And I know what you’re going to say next: you don’t want to burden them. You’re never a burden to true friends, though. Ivy and Hugh would want to be there for you. You know that, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” With a gusty sigh, I bury my face in Kieran’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of fabric softener. Tonight’s exciting date included him doing laundry at my place rather than at the laundromat downtown. At least here we could also eat dinner and drink beer.

  “Once again, with a little more feeling this time.” He digs his fingers into my side and I squeal, wriggling away from him.

  “Yes!” I laugh breathlessly. Between the squealing and my yelled affirmative, I’m grateful Celia’s room is at the opposite end of the hall. “You’re right, okay? You don’t have to be so damn smug about it.”

  He gives a languid shrug, looking way too pleased with himself as he grins at me. He opens his arms again and I hesitate before returning to my former position. “Now kiss me and let me go to sleep.”

  Still smiling, he pulls me to him and kisses me long and deep. Moments like this—when he’s in my bed with me pressed up against him and he’s kissing me breathless—make it hard to believe we’ve been together almost a month and have done just about everything together except actually have sex. I thought for sure after that hot and heavy night in his bedroom at the student house our physical relationship would progress quickly, but it’s actually refreshing to take our time. Explore each other in every sense.

  I like sex as much as the next girl, but I have to admit, it’s exciting seeing how many different ways we can pleasure each other without going all the way. And just because we’re not having sex doesn’t mean there are no orgasms. Because there are. Multiple ones. But the thing is, even though it feels like we’ve known each other forever, we’re still new in each other’s lives.

  It’s like my recent conversation with Ivy about people’s expectations of how things should be and what’s expected. I think sex is on that list too. Couples on TV and in movies jump into bed together so quickly, people have begun to think it’s the norm. And while it may be for some people and that’s totally fine, the truth is sometimes sex upsets the balance of things. I’m still finding my feet in this new life without my mom, and Kieran and I are delving deep into each other. I’ve never felt such an intense emotional connection with someone. My relationship with Kieran is the one thing that quiets my mind and makes things seem more manageable.

  It’s working for us. For now, anyway.

  My body grows heavier with the need for sleep, so I release Kieran, giving him one last peck on the lips. We say goodnight and I snuggle against him.

  As I drift off, I feel myself smiling in amusement. Sleeping together before sleeping together. I think romance TV and movies could learn something from us.

  *****

  On Saturday, there’s an open house at Loyola College put on by the Early Childhood Education program. When Kitty and Kieran informed me about it one night during dinner in the cafeteria, I wondered why they were telling me until they explained it wasn’t for children, as you’d expect—it was for adults to ‘explore their inner child’.

  Kieran had looked at me with glistening eyes and a playful smile as Kitty told me about it. The fact they were both surprised I agreed to go reminded me it’s been way too long since I’ve let my inner child out to play. During my European travels, I was always hopping on carousels, delightedly wandering street fairs, and stopping at parks so I could jump on the swings. During the winter months when I took a break from traveling, I was an elf to Hugh’s Santa at Santa’s Village. I’m no stranger to the concept of letting your inner child run free.

  My mom always fostered my curiosity and my enchantment with all things whimsical. The last year or so has weighed me down so much I’ve all but forgotten what it’s like to revel in the fantastic. A fun fair for adults sounded like exactly what I needed to get back to my formerly playful self.

  On the morning of the fair, Kieran and I meet Kitty and Petra, along with Ivy and Hugh at the Loyola campus. When I mentioned the fair one day at work, Hugh informed me Bellevue Village was one of the sponsors, so I asked if they wanted to come with us. I invited my other friends at Kieran’s suggestion, but Bridget and her husband David are away for the weekend, Piper is hosting an event at the bookstore, and Celia basically laughed in my face and said a resounding “nope”.

  It’s a perfect day. The sun is shining, it’s warm enough for just a light sweater, and trees and flowers are blossoming everywhere, brightening the city with splashes of color. As the six of us walk toward the field at the back of the main campus, I admire a seemingly random group of daffodils along a stretch of grass.

  A memory pops into my head from the spring before my mom took a turn for the worst. It had rained for days, and as soon as the sun peeked through the clouds, we ventured out to sit in the backyard of the house I grew up in. The daffodils that sprouted every year had popped up seemingly overnight, and my mom gazed at them for ages in silence, wearing what I always called her Mona Lisa smile. Whenever I saw that enigmatic curve to her lips, I knew she was about to dole out some Mom Wisdom.

  “I always liked daffodils, but it wasn’t until after you were born that I truly appreciated them,” she’d said.

  “Let me guess. It’s because their sunshiny color reminds you of me?” I’d said, laughing.

  Her smile turned wistful as she focused her attention on me. “That…and because of how strong daffodils are. They’re always among the first flowers to bloom in the spring, no matter how long or dark or cold the winter was. They stand tall and strong even after taking a beating from the rain. There’s something so hopeful about them.”

  She’d reached for my hand, clutching it in both of hers. I remember wondering if she suspected things were about to get worse for her and she wanted to plant seeds of a different sort—the kind that would sprout when I needed to remember not only our good times together, but also that I was strong enough to get through anything. “Daffodils are resilient, and so are you, Meredith Cormier. Never forget that.”

  For a moment, I swear I feel her squeezing my hand until I realize it’s Kieran. With a soft sigh, I come back to the present. We’ve almost reached the fun fair; the sound of laughter and music comes from up ahead, bringing a smile to my lips. Kieran looks at me with his head cocked to the side.

  “All right, Sunshine?” he asks. “Those daffodils send you off with the faeries?”

  My smile stretches. “Something like that.” Giving his hand a tug, I pu
ll him to a stop and plant a kiss on his lips. I take a moment to enjoy the pleased surprise on his face before moving ahead to catch up with the others.

  The next few hours are a blur of bubble machines, bouncy castles, old-school games I remember from elementary school gym class, and working on a giant mural that will be hung in the hall outside the Early Childhood daycare. My face hurts from smiling so much, and Ivy and I have burst into countless bouts of giggles. I feel good. Really good. This day is exactly what I needed after so much darkness and time in my own head.

  Kieran and I settle in at the shirt-painting station, him with a blue raspberry snow cone, and me with a stick of pink cotton candy. I’ve eaten more junk food today than I have this whole year combined. In this moment, I can’t even bring myself to care about the stomachache or breakouts I might have later as a result. I’m having too much fun.

  “How ’bout I paint you a shirt and you paint one for me?” Kieran suggests.

  “Deal.” I grab two white t-shirts for us from the center of the table and survey the supplies—paints, fabric markers, glitter, sequins, and stencils, among other things. I peer at Kieran, who’s contemplating the art materials with a pensive expression while eating the rest of his snow cone.

  His lips twitch at the corner before he turns his head slightly to meet my eyes. My gaze flicks to the shamrock painted on one of his cheeks; we both had our faces painted earlier, opting for something small rather than having our whole faces painted. Ivy, on the other hand, is around here somewhere sporting a full cat face.

  “No peeking once we get started,” Kieran says.

  “That might be difficult since we’re sitting right next to each other.”