Page 70 of Dying to Meet You

Then he did. He got a job in an Ithaca café. When I came back from Italy, I moved in with him. We had a cramped little one-bedroom with creaky floors, but I loved everything about it. Coming home to Harrison felt like winning the lottery.

My parents were appalled. He’s not good enough for you was my mother’s constant chorus. He’s not the kind of man you marry.

But I believed in us. I had faith in Harrison. Then he destroyed what we had, just like my mother said he would. Now he’s back, knocking on our door.

I’ll follow you anywhere, he once said.

I shiver.

The electric griddle beeps to tell me it’s hot. I pour the first pancakes and then call up the stairs to wake Natalie.

The hot breakfast is an olive branch. I have a little speech ready when she stumbles into the kitchen. She gives me a wary glance as I set her plate on the table.

“Listen,” I begin. “I reacted very strongly last night to a man I haven’t seen in fifteen years. Seeing him was a shock, but I feel calmer now.”

She yanks her chair out and sits down. “You acted like a stone-cold bitch.”

I have to take a slow breath and swallow down the retort that’s rising in my throat.I’m the adult in the room, I remind myself.

“I’m trying to get my head around this. For your sake. So maybe help me out, here?”

She sulks all the way through her gourmet breakfast and feeds bacon to Lickie even after I ask her to stop. But at least she answers the handful of questions I have for her.

“Do you know where he lives, exactly?”

“No clue.”

“But it’s in Portland?”

“I think so. Or close by.”

“Where does he work?”

“At Docksiders. In the kitchen.”

My heart spasms again. He’s been right down the hill—full time? Part of me doesn’t believe it. Like I should have sensed a disturbance in the Force.

We stumble through a couple more questions. Then Natalie says, “Don’t forget, you’re supposed to contact him. He said it was important.”

“Yes. I’ll do that when I’m ready.”

She gives me a dark look. Then she gets up from the table—leaving her sticky plate as if the dirty-dish fairies were swinging by later to pick it up—and leaves for her American Government exam.

After cleaning up, I call Detective Riley, and I’m grateful when she doesn’t answer. Voicemail is so much easier. “Good morning. Natalie doesn’t know where her father is staying. He didn’t tell her. She says he works in the kitchen at Docksiders most nights and plays occasional gigs wherever the band can get a slot. The band members are new people—not the same ones he had when I met him. Um...” I try to remember what else Natalie told me. “The first time they met in person was on Tuesday. They were supposed to meet last week, but the gig he was playing was twenty-one and up, and he had to tell her not to come. She says she didn’t ask him how long he’s been in town, but to her ear it didn’t sound like very long. Whatever that means. And that’s all we know. Sorry we couldn’t be more helpful.”

I hang up before the system cuts me off, tuck away my phone, and get ready for work.

As I leave, I notice the peonies on the coffee table. Harrison knew they were my favorite. He sent them to me once when we were long distance. My dorm room wasn’t stocked with vases, so I had to put the flowers in a Brita water jug. I cried over them.

My mother was right all those years ago. We were doomed as a couple from the start. At twenty, though, I didn’t care. I lived for his calls and his visits. I paid for Skype so I could see his face on my computer screen.That warm smile. The soft look in his eyes when he glanced at me. The deep sound of his laughter when I said something witty. No man had ever made me feel like a treasure.

Just like an actual drug, it was both intoxicating and dangerous. Natalie and I both paid the price.

***

Beatrice is at her desk when I arrive in the office. “How are you?” she asks. “You look tired. Isn’t it my turn to run out for coffee?” She smiles. “I feel a cappuccino coming on.”

“I wouldn’t turn it down.”