Page 36

TREY

“Arella.” It feels good to be able to say her name to her. She smiles when I do.

“Trey.” It feels even better to hear her say my name, especially because she’s not saying it like she’s wondering who I am. She’s saying it like she knows me and is happy to see me.

This is the sixth week in a row she’s come to our tree. It’s been a whole month and a half of breathing easier and feeling the weight on my shoulders slowly chip off. I try not to think about how much it’s going to destroy me if I lose her again— when I lose her again.

I’m not trying to fool myself. I know this won’t last forever. That’s why I’m imprinting everything she says and does into my mind so I can replay it over and over when I inevitably return to hell.

“Were you meditating?” she asks as I put my earbuds back into their case.

“Yep. I had the volume on low so I could hear you coming.”

“I could tell. I didn’t have to scare you this time.” She shakes out her blanket and lays it down for us. “Did you finish your session?”

“No, but I can finish it later.”

“Let’s do it together.”

I’m about to return my earbuds to my backpack when I stop. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve got some thoughts that need calming.”

I hand her one of my earbuds, then we lie on her blanket next to each other and I hand her my phone. “Pick out a session for us.”

She scrolls through the app, then chooses a guided meditation that’s ten minutes long. As the soft music plays into my ear, I close my eyes and steady my breaths.

The point of meditating is to release all the thoughts clouding my head. With Arella next to me, it’s near impossible. All I can think about is how close our hands are and how easy it would be to grab hers and hold it. I resist the urge to open my eyes and stare at her.

Halfway through the meditation, I lose the fight.

As the lady in my ear tells me to focus on breathing deeply, I steal a peek at Arella through half-closed eyelids.

She still has her eyes shut as she draws in a deep breath and slowly lets it out as instructed.

I wonder what thoughts are storming through her head that need calming. Do any of them have to do with me?

At the end of the meditation, I close my eyes and slowly flutter them open as if they hadn’t already been open for the last five minutes.

“Thanks, Trey,” she says as she offers the earbud back to me.

“Did that help calm your thoughts?”

“It did.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Please say yes. Please say yes.

“If you want me to open up, you’ll have to open up about something too.”

Am I willing to do that? “How deep do I have to go?”

“I’ll give you the freedom to decide that.”

“All right. Deal. You share first.”

She takes some time to think, then says, “I think my husband has turned into my roommate.”

Hearing her call someone else her husband feels like accidentally touching a hot pan. The burn won’t kill me, but the sting will linger for days.

She continues, “Lately, I feel like we’re two people who just happen to live in the same apartment. I only ever see him during dinner, and most of the time, he’s just scrolling through his phone. Whenever we happen to have the same day off, he’s usually got plans at the gym with Rakesh.”

Her dude hasn’t made love to her in months, and when they’re together, he’s not even looking at her? What the fuck is wrong with him? “Who’s Rakesh?”

“Caleb’s best friend. They work out together almost every day.”

“So he makes time for his friend, but not you?”

“I don’t mind that they go to the gym together. I’m at work whenever they do, anyway. However, it does bother me that he makes plans with Rakesh, even when he knows I’ve got the day off.”

It’s official: The dude is an idiot. He has everything I want, and he’s not even appreciating it. “Have you tried talking to him about this?”

“A few times, but it hasn’t changed anything.”

“Maybe you could suggest a system. Like whenever you both get your work schedules, you can sit down together and block out time to spend with only each other. Then talk to him about staying off his phone.”

“A system...” Her voice trails off as she thinks about that. “That’s really good advice. Thank you. Have you ever thought about being a relationship counselor?”

I burst into a loud laugh because that’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard. “Me? A relationship counselor? I haven’t been able to keep a girl around for more than three months. No one would hire me with that track record.”

“I would, judging from that one piece of advice. It means a lot coming from you.”

What she’s saying is that it means a lot coming from someone who would love to take Caleb’s place. Technically, he took my place. I’d just be taking it back.

I might’ve given her different advice if I was certain we could have a future together.

With her memories gone, that diamond ring sparkling on her finger, and no solid plan of how I could keep an intimate relationship with an Ordinary off the zovernment’s radar, a future together is not a possibility.

That doesn’t stop me from yearning for it though.

“It’s your turn to share something deep,” she says.

“What would you like to know?”

“There’s a question you refused to answer before that’s been on my mind.” She pauses, silently asking me for permission to continue.

With that curious glint in her eyes and the way her entire body is turned toward me so attentively, I eagerly grant her the permission. “Let’s hear it.”

“You said that Liz said something that helped you get sober a second time. I’m curious what she said.”

I suck in a deep breath then slowly let it out. “Liz said a lot of things, but the winning line was, Is this the man she’d want you to be?” I don’t need to specify who she is for Arella to know.

“And that’s it? You went sober, just like that?”

“Basically.” I say that like it’s been easy for me, when in reality, it’s a battle I’m fighting every day that sometimes feels like accepting an L wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“If Alterella thinks similar to the way I do, then Liz is right. That isn’t the man she’d want you to be.”

That dark place in my chest floods with light. Suddenly, all those lonely sober nights of miserably living through my zero sense of purpose feels worth it. Just being here with her is worth it.

Arella tilts her head to the side, then softens her tone. “What’s something you would say to her if you could?”

There is so much I would say. Most of them are things I write on postcards that never get stamped. I guess if I had to summarize all those handwritten notes, there would be one central message.

My words come out barely above a whisper. “I’d tell her that I miss her.”

“What do you miss about her?”

“Everything.”

“Could you be more specific?”

A shorter list would be what I don’t miss. “You already got one deep thought from me tonight. Are you saying you wanna trade one more?”

With a smirk, she digs through her purse and pulls out our little box of questions. She slides the lid off, then plucks out a card from the middle and reads it. “What is something you’d say to anyone in any universe if you could? And be specific.”

I burst into a laugh. “That’s not what that card says.”

“That’s exactly what this card says. Word for word.”

I hold my palm out. “Lemme see it then.”

She hugs the card to her chest. “Nuh-uh. You have to answer it first.”

“Lemme see the card first.”

“Nope.” She shoves the card down her shirt as if that’s a deterrent. If she was mine, I’d have my hand down there already.

I drop my outstretched hand. “Fine. My answer is that I miss this. I miss being with her. I miss her playfulness. I miss how we used to cuddle in bed and talk for hours. I even miss arguing with her over stupid things, like which way to correctly hang toilet paper and whether putting icing on a muffin makes it a cupcake.”

“First off, putting icing on a muffin does not make it a cupcake. They’re completely different recipes. And second, the correct way to hang toilet paper is going over, never under.”

I can’t hold back the smile that spreads across my face. “Alterella had the same strong opinions.”

“What’s your opinion?”

“That I don’t care if you call it a muffin or a cupcake as long as I get to eat it.

I also don’t care which way the toilet paper gets hung as long as I get to use it.

” Because I know it’ll get a reaction from her, I add, “I tend to just put the TP on the holder whichever way it happens to be facing.”

She leans back with a gasp. “That’s even worse than going under. It’s never consistent.”

I chuckle lightly. “I don’t give a fuck which way it’s facing. At the end of the day, it’s just toilet paper.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you one of those people who thinks pineapple belongs on pizza?”

“I don’t mind pineapple on my pizza, but I wouldn’t go out of my way for it.”

“Ew!” She makes an ick face. “That’s gross.”

“Hey. At least I’m not a weirdo who pours their milk in before the cereal.”

She slaps an offended hand over her heart. “Excuse me. I don’t like soggy cereal. If I pour the milk in first, I can add a little bit of cereal at a time, then eat it while it’s still crunchy before pouring in more. That’s smart, if you ask me.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with this woman. The level of happiness and comfort I feel right now is beyond measure. I just wish I could get rid of the feeling that this happiness is coming to an end soon.