Page 20 of The Now in Forever

M y mind is spinning. What does he mean, know each other ? Is he talking about the signing? Or does he really remember that day ? He keeps talking.

“Ten years ago. Neighborhood Books. We met up after work, after I quit.”

I scoot back, sloshing the wine in my glass. “Wait, you quit?”

A slow smile spreads across his face like syrup on hot pancakes. “You do remember.”

“I remember you yelling at a customer and getting fired.”

“Kat might’ve been going to fire me, but I quit. I found out I got into the writer’s residency in Colorado late, like super late. My roommates didn’t give me the letter, and I wasn’t great about checking e-mail. Anyway, I had to quit. I had to leave the next day.”

We sit there silent for a beat. He’d quit. How did I not know he’d quit? What else is different than I thought it was about that day ?

“I’m so relieved you remember,” Ed says and refills his glass of wine. “When we met in the kitchen and you just brought up the signing, I thought… Well, for a minute I wasn’t sure it was you. Then when I was, I thought you had forgotten the whole thing.”

Fire fills my veins. “Me? You thought I forgot? I’ve always remembered. And even after everything, I went to your book signing, gave you my name, and you didn’t even know it was me.”

Ed opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. There’s a knock at the door, making us both jump. I cross the room, but Ed stands, grabs a flashlight from the coffee table, and strides in front of me.

“Let me get it.”

He opens the door, and a gust of cold wind instantly blows in. Anh is standing in the doorway, suitcase in hand, her black hair wet and plastered to her head.

I leap forward. “Oh my God. Come in, come in.”

Water is running down her face, but as I get closer, I see it’s not just rain but tears.

“Anh, what happened?”

She comes inside and sniffles. “Melissa left me. We called off the engagement.”

“Oh, no.”

Anh and Melissa have been together for six years. Engaged for three of them. Just this year, they actually set a date for this October and started planning the wedding. How did this happen?

She takes the glass of wine in my hand and downs the rest in one go. “Is there more of that?”

I point to the blanket. Anh lets her wet coat fall to the floor and takes my glass to the living room.

After shaking the coat out a little, I hang it up. My mind is spinning in a million different directions.

Ed says, “I’m going to head upstairs and give you ladies some privacy.”

I nod but don’t say anything.

He puts a light hand on my shoulder, and I look into his eyes. “Can we talk about this later? I’d like to… Well, I can explain.”

My stupid heart leaps, like a prima ballerina on opening night. But my more practical senses tamp it down. What can he possibly say?

“Can we talk tomorrow?”

I shrug. “Okay. ”

Grabbing another glass from the kitchen and another bottle of wine, I join Anh on the blanket.

She’s completely still, staring into the fire. I nudge her foot with mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her whole body slumps on an exhale. “No. Never. But also, yes.”

Fresh tears start to fall.

“We don’t have to if you’re not ready. We can just sit, warm up, drink wine.”

“She met someone else. In a CrossFit class. They do Cross-fucking-Fit together. Isn’t that stupid?

Of all the places to meet someone? They’re happy hot lesbians doing CrossFit together.

They probably go to the farmers’ market and make smoothies.

They’ll probably get a stupid dog and name it Burpee.

Melissa has always wanted a dog. I should’ve let her get one. ”

I put a hand on Anh’s knee. “Honey, you’re allergic. That’s not your fault.”

“I could’ve taken Allegra.” Anh sniffles. “She moved her stuff out last week.”

“Last week? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Anh’s shoulders slump, and she closes her eyes. “I called. I was going to. But I didn’t want it to be real. If I told you and Robin, then it was really happening, you know? I was hoping she’d come back, change her mind.”

We talk into the night, and Anh drinks quite a bit more wine. I try to be present, to be there for her, but my mind keeps wandering back to Ed.

Around one in the morning, the power comes back on. I help her up the stairs and put her into bed. There’s a light streaming from under Ed’s door, but maybe it came on when he was already asleep. I put my ear to the door to listen but can’t hear anything.

I crawl into bed but lie awake. If Anh hadn’t interrupted, would we have kissed?

I frown at the ceiling. It’s a bad idea.

We shouldn’t have slept together a decade ago, and we shouldn’t now either.

Ed became this impossible dream that I measured every other man I was ever with against. My heart has belonged to a ghost, a phantom, my entire adult life.

And now he’s here, licking his lips in front of roaring fires.

But there’s nothing he could possibly say to make this right.

It’s time to let it go, let my fantasy of him go.

In the morning, I wake up extra early. Wake up is a stretch. Mostly I give up trying to sleep. The wind has died down, and outside looks peaceful. The ocean is a calm expanse of blue. I throw on my running stuff and check on Anh. She’s still sleeping, her arm flung over her face.

I sneak out the door and run in the gray morning light. When I get back to the house, Ed is making coffee in the kitchen, sweaty in his running gear. Did he go for a run too? How did I miss him? Did he take another route? Is he trying to avoid me?

He turns around. “Hey.”

I smile, but my stomach twists. “Good run?”

“Yeah, I checked out the other way on the beach. Running on sand is getting easier.”

Of course it is, for him.

Ed hands me a steaming mug of coffee, the aroma ironing some of the wrinkles in my brain out. He lowers his voice. “About last night?—”

“I thought I smelled coffee.” Anh comes into the kitchen, her long black hair tied up in a messy bun.

Selecting a pink mug with white flowers on it, I pour her some coffee. “How are you feeling?”

Anh blows on her drink, the heat wafting off in waves. “Like I was steamrolled by a giant bottle of wine. I’m never drinking again.”

I laugh.

She turns to Ed. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Anh. My girlfriend left me for a CrossFit lover.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Ed holds out his hand. “I’m Ed. I’m Nathan’s old friend.”

“Now that we’re on a first-name basis, I fully expect you to hold my hand through this breakup. So, what are we doing today?” Anh asks, sipping her coffee.

Ed laughs. “Well, Anh, I have to go to Portland for my buddy's book launch party.” Ed turns to me. “Do you still want to go?”

My heart sinks. I do want to go, but I can’t leave Anh all by herself.

“A party in Portland sounds perfect. When do we leave?” Anh gets up from the table.

“Whenever.” Ed shrugs.

“I’ll shower.” Anh heads off, taking her coffee with her.

Ed is still dripping sweat from his run, and so am I, but our showers will have to wait, I guess. “Is it okay if we both come to the party?”

Ed nods. “Sure. I booked us two king rooms at Posh downtown, but I could make it three rooms.”

Posh is one of the fanciest hotels in downtown Portland. “No, we can share. But we can just get a room at The Jupiter or The Quality Inn or something.

Ed shakes his head. “Nah, this place is great. I got it.”

I want to protest, to say of course I’m going to pay you back, but the house hasn’t sold and I’m uncertain where my next paycheck is coming from and when. “Are you sure it’s okay if we come? We can stay here?—”

“It’s cool.” Ed pulls out his phone and starts tapping away. “I’m pretty sure I can get us another invitation.”

“Are they going to be sticklers about invites?”

“It’s at the Pittock Mansion, so maybe. But I’ll figure it out. It’s black tie. Should we stop somewhere in Portland to pick up clothes?”

Posh, black tie, mansion? Now it really feels like we’re party crashing. “Anh and I should just stay here.”

Ed startles me by putting his coffee down and taking my hand in his. “I want you to come. Please.”

I try to slow my breathing. “Okay.”

Ed’s phone lights up in his hand. He drops my hand and answers it, “Bill! Happy book release day. ”

He takes his coffee in one hand and his phone in the other and walks out of the kitchen.

A couple hours later, we’re all showered, dressed, packed, and in Ed’s car headed to Portland.

Ed insisted on driving since he invited us, but my car looks far more reliable than his white Datsun Hatchback.

Anh needs to sit shotgun; the roads are windy, and she gets car sick even on days when she’s not hungover.

So, I’m sitting in the back, the ocean whizzing by, feeling the cracked leather seat underneath my fingers.

A couple of empty cans of cold brew rattling around on the floor next to me.

“I really think we should’ve taken my car. It’s not too late to turn back.”

“Don’t be silly. This car is a tank.”

Anh’s head is leaning against the window, her soft snores almost matching the beat of the song on the radio.

“Must be my riveting company,” Ed jokes softly.

He pushes in an actual cassette tape and pulls onto the highway, Tom Waits droning out of the stereo. It’s so perfectly music he would listen to, I laugh.

“What?”

I bite my lip, finding his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Tom Waits is just very on-brand for you.”

“Come on, now. I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He points to Anh’s seat. “There’s a whole box of tapes under there. You pick something.”

I sort through Dolly Parton, The Clash, Sonic Youth, and a mixtape.

I read the list on the paper insert—a lump in my throat forms as I land on the first song by Say Hi.

I hand it to Ed, and he pops it into the player.

As the first track plays, I wonder if he’ll recognize it from when we met in the bookstore.

He nods as the soft notes hum through the car. “I love this song.”

“Me too.” I smile. “So how long does it take to get there? ”

“Probably around two hours or so? Actually, will you turn on the map on your phone so we’re sure we’re headed the right way?”

I type in Posh Hotel Portland, and the little blue line pops up, two hours and twelve minutes. Placing my phone in the center console, I settle back into the seat and watch the landscape change as we leave the coast behind and head through the forest, mossy trees on either side.

The song changes, deep base filling the car.

Boom—boom boom. Boom—boom boom.

Ed smacks the steering wheel to the beat.

As the first words come over the speaker, we both sing along. Unplanned synchronicity. It’s so good. In the chorus, Ed’s voice goes so low, it rumbles something deep in my core.

“Just Like Honey.”

When the song is over, Ed clears his throat. “Hattie, about that night.”

My pulse ticks up. Now? Ed wants to talk about this now, with Anh sleeping in the front seat? “Ed it’s fine. Let’s just forget it, okay?”

“Forget it?”

“Yeah, that night just didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me, and that’s fine. It’s been years. I’m over it. We don’t have to rehash it all.”

“But it did mean a lot to me. Wait, you’re over it?”

The car hits a pothole, jostling the vehicle. Anh stirs in the front seat. “Ugh. Mind if I change this?” Anh reaches into the back, and I hand her the box of tapes.

“Knock yourself out.”

Anh puts on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours and turns it up. “Remember that summer you played this nonstop?”

I nod. “The summer after Chad and I split.”

“Right. That was the same summer we went to Puerto Rico—oh, and you changed your book club pick. The only time we ever allowed it. What was the first one you chose called? Do you remember? It was that one about the guy that stubbed his toe and started the apocalypse. ”

Ed and I both say it at the same time. “ Vex. ”

“Yes! That was it. You know it, too?” Anh asks Ed.

“I wrote it.”

Anh laughs, a bubbling giggle that fills the car. “No. You didn’t.”

Ed chuckles. “I did.”

“I loved it,” Anh says, frowning slightly as if she’s still deciding.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“No, I did, but it wasn’t light reading.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Anh turns in her seat; she points to me and back to him quickly.

Either implying we should hook up or asking if we have, I’m not sure which.

I shake my head because it’s not happening.

He did just say our day together meant a lot to him, though.

But those are just words. If it had meant that much, then it wouldn’t have ended the way it did.