Page 13 of The Now in Forever

TEN YEARS AGO

A t seven, Kat shows me how to close, and after sweeping the store, I head out into the summer evening.

The sun’s still going strong, and the air is thick with humidity.

It feels like I have to swim, rather than walk.

Unlocking my bike, I ride the short way to Boulevard Park with my heart in my throat.

Ed probably won’t be at the park, not that I can blame him. He did just get fired.

Ed.

I lean my bike against the back of a bench that faces the water and sit down. Maybe I’ll run into him again this summer. New Haven’s not that big. Although in all the summers I’ve been here, I’ve never run into him before.

As I gaze into the water, looking for seals, behind me I hear the sound of small hard wheels on concrete. I turn, but no one’s there, and the sound has stopped too. A few minutes later, I smell clove, orange, and strawberry.

Ed is standing there, his suit jacket gone, his skateboard tucked in between his back and his backpack, with a strawberry-vanilla swirl cone held out to me.

He’s here.

Sparklers glimmer in my chest. Not only is he here, but he has my absolute favorite flavor of ice cream. I take the cone.

“How’d you know I like strawberry?”

He pulls a chocolate-vanilla swirl cone from behind his back. “I didn’t. Covered all my bases.”

Taking a lick, he sits on the bench close to me, so close our thighs touch if one of us moves. So of course, I can’t sit still.

We eat our cones, listening to the chatter of the crowded park and the water lapping far below. Eventually, I break the silence. “Sorry you got fired.”

He crunches his cone and says through a mouthful of sugar, “Couldn’t be helped. I’m not cut out for retail.”

I want to ask a million questions, like how will he pay rent?

Will he get another job? Is he going to be okay?

But he doesn’t seem worried about it, so I shouldn’t be either.

Instead of asking any of those questions, I take a lick of my ice cream as he watches me the way a wolf watches an elk, and to my surprise, I like it. A lot. “What’s the plan?”

He stands and holds out his hand to me. “Plans are overrated.”

I take his hand. “Um, no they’re not. If anything, plans are underrated. More people should have a plan.”

He shrugs. “What truly good thing in your life came from planning? Did you plan to meet your book club friends? Did you plan to write the first story you ever wrote? Did you plan to meet me today?” He pulls out his board, and I grab my bike.

“The universe has its own plans. Let’s just see where it takes us. ”

He hops on his board and skates away, fast. I get on my bike and pedal hard to keep up.

The water sparkles as we ride the trail, dodging walkers, strollers, dogs, and other people on bikes.

We ride into town and through the back streets, stopping at a light-green house, the paint so dingy it’s almost gray.

There’s a ratty plaid recliner on the porch next to a massive glass ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and a charred action figure. The door is wide open .

“You can put your bike up on the porch or inside if you want,” Ed says.

“Will it be safe on the porch?”

Ed purses his lips. “Bring it inside, and then we don’t have to worry about it. We won’t be here long; we just need to grab snacks.”

Ripping a paper off the door, he reads it as he goes inside.

The living room is surprisingly clean—filled with light, house plants, and an adorable yellow floral couch.

We walk through into the kitchen, where a girl with a short, bright-pink pixie cut is holding the arm of a man with dark-black hair and light-brown skin.

He’s looking away, almost wincing as she takes a needle and pokes his arm, stopping every now and then to dip it in ink.

“Hey, Sasha. Hey, Lenny,” Ed says.

“She’s torturing me,” Lenny cries.

“Oh please. You asked me to turn your ex-girlfriend’s initials into a ghost, and that’s what I’m doing. We’re almost done.”

Ed sits at the table to watch. I take the open chair next to him. He crumples up the paper in his hand and throws it on the table. “Did you both see that?”

Sasha frowns. “You’re leaving tomorrow anyway, right?”

He’s leaving?

Ed clasps his hands on the table. "But what will you both do?”

Lenny shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”

“This is Hattie.” Ed smiles at me.

“Hey,” they both say.

Sasha is quick but careful. After a few minutes, Lenny is done. “Voila.”

He holds up his arm and shows us the cutest little black Pac-Man ghost tattoo.

“I need a beer.” Lenny heads off through an open door to the kitchen.

Sasha looks at Ed then me with a gleam in her eyes. “Who’s next?”

Ed raises his hand. “I am.” He looks at me. “Unless you want a stick and poke?”

“A stick and poke? ”

Sasha nods. “It’s what we call these homemade tattoos. They don’t hurt.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lenny says from the kitchen, cracking open a can.

I don’t have any tattoos at all, let alone a homemade one. “No, you can go.”

Ed takes the chair in front of Sasha and holds out his forearm like he’s about to give blood. He points to a spot a little beneath his elbow crease. “Right here, please.”

“Okay,” Sasha says. “What do you want?”

“Something to commemorate the day.” He looks at me, his green eyes shimmering.

I picture him holding that book, bellowing out the prose—a force of nature—and speak without a second thought. “A tornado.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up on the side. “Easier than a sandstorm.”

The tattoo is simple, and Sasha is swift. Ed shows me his spiral line of a tornado once it’s finished. It’s perfect. A snapshot of him.

Sasha looks to me. “Sure you don’t want one?” Part of me falters for a second. I could get something small, maybe on my ankle. A heart—no. A book? A little book would be sexy, adventurous.

“Can you draw a book?”

Sasha smiles. “Yep.”

Ed catches my eye. “I’m going to grab a beer. Want one?”

“No, thanks.”

Taking Ed’s seat, I push down my sock to the top of my foot.

Sasha grabs a new sewing needle and dips it in the pot of India ink.

I inhale sharply, bracing myself as she brings the needle to just below my ankle and punctures the skin.

It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it makes a small dot.

A black dot that I will have forever. What if this turns into a day I don’t want to remember?

What if someday I don’t like books? That’s a little ridiculous.

But the permanence of this act hits me all at once, and my head swims. I stand up abruptly, hitting the table and knocking over the ink in the process. “Sorry. ”

Sasha grabs a towel off the chair. “No worries. I have more ink. Did it hurt?”

I run my fingers through my hair, my unintentional green streak catching my eye. “It’s forever.”

Sasha nods her eyes soft, almost all knowing. “Forever is composed of nows.”

Deep in my ribs, a bell rings.

Sasha’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “I’m a lit major. It’s?—”

Lenny bursts from the kitchen with an unopened can of Rainier and hands it to Sasha. “Are you quoting Emily Dickinson again? We’ve talked about this… No Dickinson in the house.”

Sasha bolts from her chair. “Oh right. And I’m so obedient. ‘Since I could not stop for death? he kindly stopped for me.’”

Lenny chases Sasha into the living room and up the stairs.

Ed emerges from the kitchen zipping his backpack. “Got the snacks. They 're a little warm. Fridge isn’t working. Ready?”

I nod, noticing for the first time there are no lights on and remember what Ed said earlier about his power being shut off. I’m a little dazed by our entire time in this house.

As we walk out the door, Ed yells upstairs, “We’re going to the bonfire. You guys coming?”

“Later,” Lenny calls back.

I get my bike. Once Ed shuts the door, I ask, “Are Lenny and Sasha a couple?”

Ed shrugs. “Some days. They don’t believe in what you would call a typical relationship anymore. They’re not monogamous, but they enjoy each other’s company.”

We walk down the sidewalk.My mouth feels dry. “Do you have a girlfriend or girlfriends like that?”

Ed looks me in the eye. “No. When I’m with someone, it’s just me and them.”

Relief washes over me.

Ed keeps going. “When I was little, my dad cheated on my mom. And one day when I was still a baby, he left with one of his other girls. I never got to meet him. ”

“Ever?”

Ed shrugs. “It’s okay. I don’t even remember him. Except…”

He stops himself and rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

“What?” I ask.

He gives me a sheepish smile. “I have this one memory of him holding me—it must be from a picture I saw. He left when I was like two. But I can smell his leather jacket and his sandalwood cologne, feel the cold metal of his ring on my leg, the rain splattering against the window.” He shakes his head.

“It’s not like that’s what Lenny and Sasha are doing; they both know they sleep with other people.

It’s just open relationships aren’t really my thing. ”

“Mine either.” I smile, warmth spreading down my neck. I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “Hey, what did they mean, you're leaving?”

“Oh…” Ed runs a hand over his shaved head. “I got into a writer’s residency in Crested Butte, Colorado.”

“That’s… Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I leave tomorrow.” Ed puts his skateboard down on the ground and starts to skate toward the water.

Tomorrow? I just met him, and now he has to leave.