Page 86 of The Spirit of Love
“How did you know?” I ask, dabbing my eyes dry.
“That you’d need us?” Liv fills my hand with hers and squeezes. “I mean, we’re all a little witchy here, right? Also, there’s another world where I’m pretty sure you saved my life when I needed you most, so consider this my interdimensional thank-you.”
Some friends might dismiss this as a joke or straight-up weird. But I know better. I know that in life’s most essential moments, there’s always more connecting us to the people we lovethan we can consciously grasp. So I hug my friend, and when she hugs me back, I know she feels this, too.
From the cockpit come two blasts of a horn, followed by Captain Dan’s voice crackling through the speakers on the deck.
“All right, sailors! Meet me on the deck!”
When we’re all assembled, Captain Dan takes a bottle of champagne from Olivia. “Has anyone ever readGulliver’s Travels?” he asks, meeting my eyes. “Where a storm sends a boat and its passenger into another realm?”
“Dan,” Jake says, “stay on topic.”
“Sure,” Dan says and holds the champagne aloft. He closes his eyes. “I hereby christen theeThe Midlife Crisis. May you know love, laughter, and sex hereafter.” He leans over the bow and smashes the shit out of the champagne bottle.
We all cheer, Jake goes to fetch another bottle, and moments later, we’re pulling away from the marina, headed for the island of Santa Catalina—named for Saint Catherine of Alexandria, patron saint of philosophers and unmarried women and the protectress of sudden death.
I hold on to the railing, tuck my hair behind my ears in the wind, and watch the ferry recede in the distance. At no point today have I been sure I was making the right decision to come out here. Not when my alarm went off. Not when I packed my duffel bag with clothes I’d actually want to be seen in…and possibly out of. Not when I locked my bungalow, or drove to the south bay, or paid for parking for two nights in advance. I still don’t know if I should be doing this. If Sam will even want to see me, or if seeing Sam is something I should want myself. But I know that Jude stopped kissing me last night—at least inpart—because I have unfinished business on this island. And knowing my friends will be nearby gives me an extra and much-needed boost of strength to finish it, come what may.
Olivia links one arm through mine as Masha stands at my other side.
“Tell me you all didn’t come because you expect my showing up at Sam’s cabin to go horribly, horribly wrong?” I say to them.
“That is definitely not why we came,” Masha says, patting my hand.
“You’re never going to know until you try,” Olivia says. “The way I see it, if the reunion with Sam is as amazing as the first time, then we’re going to want to meet him. And…if it leaves something to be desired, there’s always room for you onThe Midlife Crisis. We can play late-night poker!”
“I do need to make it known that I will be in bed by ten p.m. both nights,” Masha says, “but early-evening poker is very much on the table.”
I try to imagine my reunion with Sam going well enough that I invite him to come meet my friends. It’s hard to picture him onThe Midlife Crisis, maybe because he hasn’t even reached his quarter life? Or maybe because everything with Sam is hard to picture—all dreamlike and removed from reality—when I’m not right next to him. Which is why I’m going to get next to him again. I would like to get clear on whether there’s still something between us. To do that, I’m definitely going to need to stop thinking about Jude.
Jude, whom it’s actually easier to picture on this boat, playing poker with my crew, talking art with Masha and Eli,entertainment with Jake, and personal growth with Olivia. I sigh and push away the thoughts.
Jude will never be on this boat, never hang out with my friends, because kissing me last night made him want to flee.
The pop of a champagne cork comes as a welcome interruption to my shame spiral. Olivia, Masha, and I all turn around to find Eli holding five glass flutes and Jake filling them with varying strengths of bubbling drinks.
“I’ll make the toast,” I say when Jake hands me a glass. I lift it, looking each of my friends in the eyes. “To sailing together through whateverThe Midlife Crisisbrings.” I pause. “And also, Jude and I kissed last night. Cheers!”
I down the contents of my glass before I have to look at my friend’s faces. Olivia’s and Masha’s jaws have dropped, but Eli and Jake somehow are nodding.
“What, you knew?” Olivia demands of her husband, as if he’s been keeping a money-laundering scheme a secret for a decade.
Jakes puts up his hands, gesturing innocence. “I didn’t know it was a last-night thing, but I figured it was a sooner-or-later thing. They looked like they were about to jam at our wedding. Did they not, Dan?”
Dan honks the yacht’s horn in the affirmative.
“You saw us?” I had no idea anyone was watching.
“Did I not tell you they were vibing?” Eli nudges Masha.
“You did, baby,” Masha says, then looks at me. “He did.”
“Remember that picture I took?” Eli reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He scrolls to find the photo and flashes the screen at me, and I study the still of Jude and me mid–slow dance, mid-conversation, mid-smile. We’re in the middle of allthe things, and we look as natural as I felt last night when we were in the middle of that kiss.
It’s just the edges, the surrounding moments, when Jude and I have friction.
The end of last night. Ugh.
