I gazed away from him, my eyes following two Hula-Hoopers in the parade procession.
“Any particular reason?” I asked, my voice flat.
“I—” He hesitated. “I caught feelings for someone else. But it’s complicated.”
This surprised me. I turned toward him and asked, “What do you mean? How?”
“It… it’s complicated because she’s…”
“No, not that. I mean, how did you catch feelings for someone else?”
He looked puzzled; splotches of dark red had appeared high on his cheeks. “I mean, she… I…”
My brain felt slow. And then realization dawned, and I took a hasty step back from him, landing on someone else’s foot. I ignored their exclamation of pain, staring at Stephen.
“You mean while we’ve been dating? Did you cheat on me?”
His brow furrowed deeper. “Cheat on you? I didn’t realize we were exclusive.”
“You what?” I could hear the way my voice grew higher. “We were together. Remember? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Stephen looked truly concerned. “Rachel, I thought we were on the same page. We didn’t say…”
“No.Ithought we were on the same page. At the wedding?” I felt dizzy. A dozen women dressed all in feathers skated by in synchronized formation, eliciting a raucous cheer from onlookers. A man on stilts dressed like a wizard lurched past, leering down at members of the crowd. I shrank back when he dipped his face close to mine, baring his teeth.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Stephen sounded miserable.
“And this girl…”
“She doesn’t want me to break up with you, but I can’t help it. I think I love her.”
I flinched. “Wow. Okay.”
“Okay?”
“What else can I say? We’re done.”
“I’m really sorry, Rachel.”
I tightened my lips in a grimace, wanting him to leave. He seemed to take the hint. He stooped down and hugged me awkwardly, his chin bumping the top of my head. Hands in his pockets, he shouldered his way through the crowd. I watched him until he disappeared.
I stood there for a long moment, assaulted by all sorts of unwanted thoughts:There goes the only relationship I’d had in nearly two years; Now I have to start all over again; Perhaps I will never have what Jane has with Owen.
People around me jostled forward as a marching band made its way past us. I drifted back toward the food trucks and bought myself a beer, drank it down, then bought another. By the time I’d finished them, I felt marginally better. Thinking I would find a bathroom and then go home, I headed back toward the main street just as the naked bike ride began. I stopped to watch and felt a smile spread across my face. It’s hard to watch the naked denizens of Seattle, in all shapes, sizes, and colors, tooling alongin a never-ending stream of bikes, without smiling. There were people painted gold and rainbow, people painted green wearing crowns of yellow petals, people painted to look like zebras and skeletons. There were big boobs and small ones, body hair and butt cracks. There were people as bare as the day they were born, hair blowing in the wind, smiling as if this was the happiest day of their lives.
My heart lifted. I ran back to Fremont Coffee, where I’d chained my bike, and stripped off my clothes with wild abandon. I was just about to pedal away when a nearby man called me over.
“Paint ya?” He was a fiftysomething hippie wearing a tie-dye shirt and cutoff shorts, holding a paintbrush in one hand and a roller in the other.
I wheeled my bike toward him; it was a curious thing to feel the breeze blow across my nipples and pubes.
“Only got a few colors left.” He pointed to them.
“I like the pink.”
“Pink it is, then.” He happily dipped the roller in the bubble gum–pink paint. I stood with my arms and legs wide as he rolled the paint over my skin. It was cold at first, but the feeling of the smooth roller and silky paint was exquisite. “Goose bumps!” He smiled at me over the rim of his round sunglasses.
“How many people have you painted?” I asked.
