Julian
“Someone needsto explain to me what the fuck that movie was about,” Caelan James demanded as we walked out of The Fine Theater into a lightly-falling January snow. The temperature was almost mild and the air was perfectly still, our voices absorbed by the swirling flakes like we were in a sound-proofedchamber.
“Well, there was a lot of symbolism,” Ev began. “Lots of love and redemptionthemes.”
“I don’t meanliterally, Ev.” Cal’s voice was bitter. “I mean, why do people pay good money to have their fucking hearts ripped out, ground up, flame broiled, and stuffed back in theirchests?”
Ash wrapped an arm around Cal’s shoulders and pulled the man against his side and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Sorry,baby.”
“I think it was beautiful,” I offered. “That woman sacrificed everything so that he could be happy. That’s what love is, right? Wanting the best for someone even when ithurts?”
“It was beautiful,” Silas agreed, “but not particularlyuplifting.”
“Well, I think it was terrible.” Constantine finished buttoning his coat and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “Wasteful. Too bad the woman didn’t know it was all going to end that way, or she would have run a mile in the otherdirection.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ash argued. “Think of all the important things we’d miss out on, if we knew in advance they’d end badly. Would you really exchange love for safety, even if you knew it would endeventually?”
Cal made a strangled noise. “God, you’re so damn cute. Just… disgustingly cute, Ashley Martin. How the hell did I end up withyou?”
“Karmic backlash?” Ash suggested. “And now you’re stuck withme?”
“Can’t be karma,” Cal said solemnly. “I haven’t done anything thatgood.”
Ash laughed good-naturedly. Si and Ev exchanged a glance and clasped hands. Con sounded like he waschoking.
Walking alone at the back of our little group, I rolled my eyes, confident that no one could seeme.
Come with us!they’d said.It’ll be good for you to get out of the house, they’dsaid.
Uhhuh.
And then Cal and AshandSi and Everett,had proceeded to act like the happy couples they were the whole time we were at the movie, laughing softly to each other, holding hands, sharing those significant little glances the way people in love so often did. It was a little bit like torture. If it weren’t for my brother, who was at least as grumpy as me for reasons I couldn’t fathom, I’d have been one very miserable fifth wheel. As it was, I couldn’t wait to get back to my apartment, put on my comfiest pajamas,and…
And what? I asked myself for the seven-hundredth time in the past twenty days.What the hell should Ido?
I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time and saw a pair of texts fromDaniel.
DANIEL: Hey, baby. Any big plans fortonight?
DANIEL: Are you going to be home at the cabin? Or staying intown?
My thumb hovered over the screen as I considered my reply, which I’d started doing more and more often over the weeks since Danielleft.
Initially, our texts and phone calls had been casual and constant. Daniel had told me about all the things he did for the holiday, and how he was getting along with his parents. His dad had aged a lot in the last year, he said, and finally seemed to understand that Daniel was never going to take over the family business. They’d had actual discussions about things that weren’t Daniel’s future. His parents wanted to meet me at somepoint.
But as time wore on and days turned to weeks, conversations between Daniel and me become a little more stilted and a lot less frequent. Daniel sounded frustrated every time I spoke to him, and I knew logically that a lot of it was the endless cycle of delays that had turned his ten-day trip into a three-week odyssey—new tax forms to sign, new business arrangements that needed to be made, more meetings he couldn’t miss, and since he was delayed already, more dinner parties and galas his parents begged him to attend, now that they were on betterterms.
But the seeds of doubt planted in my head by my brief conversation with Sabrina were insidious, tenacious little fuckers that had grown and swelled into giant doubtmonsters, rampaging across my brain like Godzilla across Tokyo. The pictures Daniel sent only fed them—the winter beach near his parents’ house; him in a tuxedo at a party on New Year’s Eve; the view from a window high above all the traffic and bustle of the city.What would he want back here? the monsters whispered.Why would he come back to you now that he’s remembered he can have all of that beauty and luxury andopportunity?
It was pathetic and illogical, and I was a self-sabotaging idiot, but recognizing this didn’t seem to matter because there we stillwere.
So I sent him pictures in return. Pictures of the giant pile of snow Mother Nature had dumped on us last week. A picture of myself on the sofa at Daniel’s cabin, curled up under a blanket with the dog and the cat on New Year’s Eve. A short video Con had taken of me on Christmas, rambling at the dinner table about the differing origins and social practices of geese and swans. A recap of an email conversation I’d had about finally,finallyselling my oldcar.
Funnythings.
Truethings.
Things that showed him I was doing okay, handling my life, so he wouldn’t feel guilty for leaving just because I was in love withhim.
