It doesn’t take me long to find a summer job at a lawyer’s office downtown. Lawsuits don’t go away, even if lawyers do for vacation. It’s menial, mind numbing labor; I file endless case notes, answer phones, hand out mail, and drink in everything I can while I’m there. I find excuses to come into the conference rooms during negotiations and depositions, and take on any job that needs doing. I learn fast and it shows, and I start being assigned tasks beyond my experience.
I sneak away for my lunch hours to the basketball courts and join Malynda, who seems more intent that ever to finish her mural. Before it was just a work in progress, now it seems it’s her farewell to this town she grew up in.
But summer comes and goes, and soon just as quickly as early as heat descended on us, so does the crisp fall come encroaching before it is due.
Soon, it’s only a few days before it’s time for her to leave and for me to still remain.
The job at the lawyer’s office pays more than the Dairy Joy, of course, but not by much. My bank account is a leaking bucket, what with helping out at home. But the numbers do start to add up, slowly. I hope that by the spring term, I can join her.
I don’t tell her about the schools I’ve applied to, resolving to only tell her when there’s something concrete. Only something good.
It’s all I ever want to be in her life.
The good.
“Xavey! Look how big they are now!” Malynda dangles on one leg, half way up the tree branch, peering down at one of the other bird’s nests we’d found that had recently hatched.
I look up from the grill I’ve set up by the lake, fanning the smoke from my face as the charcoal catches light.
“I know, I’m surprised they can still fit in there. Time to move out of home, buddies.”
“Nooo, stay there forever. Stay little forever. Don’t leave home,” she coos at the little chirping, hungry mouths.
“Are you talking to the birds or yourself?”
“I was giving them some of my wisdom,” she says, wryly.
“I thought it was some of your cold feet.” I pull her legs into my lap and tickle the soles of her feet, making her squirm. “You’re going to be great.”
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Good!” I say.
She scrunches up her face and nudges me with her toes. “How long, again?”
“Five, six months, tops.”
“Promise?” I answer her with a kiss. “Okay. I guess I can wait four months,” she sighs, pouting.
“Five or six! You won’t even notice the time go by, I’ll be there before you know it.”
***
Dear Xavier,
I’m sorry.
I’ve put this letter off for too long.
Don’t come here for me.
I won’t be here.
I’ve met someone else. Another dancer. I’m leaving New York to be with him.
I’m so sorry.
I know it wasn’t supposed to work out this way, I didn’t expect it to.
I hope you can forgive me someday.
Take care.
Be happy.
x
Her
Present Day
Ten a. m. is a weird part of the day. Most people are at work already, or, considering this is midtown Manhattan, a lot of people started four or five hours ago. But the crazy chaos of the peak hour is dying down, there are a few stragglers coming in and out of coffee shops, older gentlemen with the Times tucked under their arms and the younger crowd staring down at their phones, a Starbucks in the other hand. Everyone keeping to themselves as the traffic starts to become fluid again after the gridlock of the morning rush hour.
My car stops by the side of the road, arriving at my destination. Normally, I jump right out, ready to start whatever lunch/meeting/appointment I have planned, on the go, never stopping from six a. m. to midnight. Trying to fit as much into my day as possible, which isn’t that hard here in New York City. There’s always someone perfectly happy to talk work to you at any hour of the day.
But right now, the last thing I feel like doing is stepping out of this car and making my way to my rendezvous.
I want to tell the driver this was a mistake, to turn around and drive. And just keep driving until I forget. Forget what I was here for. Forget his face. Forget his name. Forget like I’ve been trying to forget for twelve long years.
I should just turn around and walk away. Nothing good is going to come of this. Not for me and not for him. Take the easy way out, write the check, and pretend that Xavier had never come back into my life.
Not that he ever left.
The mind is a terrible thing. It can make you feel like time is no object. Years can go by and yet, you can transport yourself back in the space of a split second. Back to that tent by the lake, sunburned skin kissed by his lips, and your fingernails on his back. Like it was just yesterday and not a lifetime ago.
“Miss?” The driver is antsy to earn his next dollar.
I mumble thanks, gather my bags and linger one last second on the door handle before I step out.
A gust of wind knocks me off my center and I stumble, trying not to drop the black portfolio in my arms, hugging it tightly to my chest. I feel a hand against the small of my back, stopping me from falling.
“Woah. Steady. What’ve you got in there that’s so important?”
I know the voice, but I take a moment to steady myself before I look up.
Into those green eyes.