“We didn’t go to bars or clubs or anything like that. We just… we sat in that red vinyl booth day after day, staring into each other’s eyes and telling each other… God,everything. We talked about art, and politics. I showed him the little children’s stories I made up. He told me about natural ecosystems, and how blueberry pancakes were thebestpancakes and if he could pick one food to survive on forever, it would be that. We shared what it had been like for each of us to be raised by our grandparents. We talked about the places he’d been andallllllthe places I wanted to travel when I graduated. He even helped me plan my itinerary and make some contacts at travel blogs…” I broke off and shook my head.
It sounded silly, maybe, when at the time it had felt… sacred.
How could I put into words the way his soft brown eyes on my face felt like a physical caress sometimes?
Or how I’d waited and waited for him to say I was too enthusiastic or too excitable or just all aroundtoo much,like so many boyfriends, family members, and even friends had told me over the years, and he never, ever had?
How could I explain the champagne giddiness of the night Fran stared at me and blurted, “Sometimes your eyes shine like starlight…” then promptly blushed fourteen shades of red under his beard and told me gruffly that we’d never mention it again?
Or how I’d written and illustrated him a story that same night in a burst of inspiration about a giant, lonely bear that befriends a star who tells the bear he’ll never be alone again?
Or how Fran had accepted that little book, sloppily sketched and handwritten on torn notebook paper, with a grave sort of happiness that said he knew exactly what I’d meant when I wrote it… and maybe felt the same?
How could I explain how safe I’d felt when Fran was sitting across a Formica table from me, drinking mediocre coffee from a chipped, white mug, not just because Fran had been huge and intimidating and protective, but because I’d known I could tell him anything and he’d like me anyway?
In my whole life growing up with my grandparents and my super-smart older sister, no one had ever talked to me like Fran had, in a way where he listened more than he spoke, and assumed I had intelligent opinions about everything that were worth hearing.
ThatIwas worth hearing.
I’d glowed when I was with him. I’d felt it. And when he’d left, it had felt like the light in me had dimmed.
“That’s so beautiful,” Ev said, pressing a hand to his chest. “I know that feeling precisely. Of being able to tell someoneanything.”
“Same,” Liam agreed. “Best feeling ever.”
“Yeah. And then one night, he walked me out to my car like he’d done a few times, and we turned to each other at the same exact moment and leaned in and…” I smiled a little. “Becoming lovers seemed inevitable.”
Perfect, in a way few things in my life had been perfect.
“And then he left,” Brian prompted so gently I flinched.
“Yeah, well, that was inevitable, too.” I shrugged. “There was a time limit on us from the start. Fran had always planned to come back east after his contract was up and go into business for himself here, so he could be closer to his family and the diner. And he knew my bags were packed and I wasdyingto leave town and see the world as soon as I graduated. We had three months together as a couple, and we thought we’d have a couple more weeks together, but it all would have ended the same way.”
And I’d expected it to hurt. Naively, I’d thought it would be one of those life experiences that would make me a better writer or some shit, allowing me to experience the full breadth of human emotion.
I hadn’t expected it to hurt as badly as it had, though, or to feel like Fran had accidentally taken some crucial pieces of me when he left.
I definitely hadn’t expected the pain to last aslongas it had, so that some nights I stillwoke up dreaming about him: about the way his eyes had shone the last time he’d fucked me, and the way it had been on the tip of my tongue to ask him to forget all his plans and come traveling with me; the devastation on his face when he’d gotten the phone call that his grandpa was really sick; and the way I’d poured myself into our last long kiss goodbye. The way Fran had promised he’d keep in touch…
And the way hehadn’t.
I sure as fuck had not anticipated that, four years on, I’d be unable to feel calm and quiet andwholeinside my own skin unless I was geographically within a few miles of the man, or that I wouldn’t be able to sleep with another guy without thinking of Fran and feeling vaguely like I was cheating.
All in all, I was here to tell you that the full breadth of human emotion could go suck a bag of dicks. Zero out of ten, would not recommend, even to my worst enemy.
“I get it,” Liam said. “You broke up, but youdidn’t, because deep down you still have feelings for him. Circumstances just got in the way.” His voice was soft and full of sympathy, and I remembered Liam knew firsthand how feelings could keep burning, even in the absence of the person who’d inspired them, since he’d been through almost the same thing with Gideon.
“Yeah.” I blew out a defeated breath. “I do. I compare every man I meet to him, you guys, and no one can compete. I can’t decide if I should stay in O’Leary and maybe take that teaching job at the high school, which would give me time to write—“
“More of those kid stories?” Liam asked hopefully. “Maybe even publishing them? Hazel thinks they’re amazing.”
“Maybe.” I forced a smile. The idea of publishing gave me hives. What if agents hated them? What if no one bought them? Better to wait until I knew they were good enough. “But if I stayed here, I’d literally be living in Fran’s shadow, so maybe I need to get back on the road and try a little harder to forget him? I don’t know. And the worst part is… I wonder sometimes if my brain is playing tricks on me. Could we really have been that connected? Could it really have been that good? Is this just an excuse to keep me from risking myself with some other guy and getting my heart broken?” I slumped in my seat. “I feel like I have to talk to him. I have to know for sure that it’s done. That the connection has been cut and I’ve been deluding myself. And then I can move on.”
“So...” Brian bit his lip. “Um. Why haven’t you marched up that hill already? I mean, why not rip the Band-Aid off and know for sure?”
Liam gave Brian a lopsided smile. “That’syou, Bri-bri. Mr. Heart on Your Sleeve. Mr. Never Had a Thought He Didn’t Share. For some of us… it doesn’t work like that. Putting ourselves out there isscary.Especially when the odds aren’t in your favor.”
“Plus, you only get one shot.” Ev shot me a look that was half-grimace, half-smile. “Yeah, itsucksliving in limbo like Mark is, but if he goes up there and finds that he was wrong about Fran—that maybe he was deluding himself, or maybe Fran hasn’t thought of him in years—it’d be like something that’s helped defined Mark for a long time haddied, wouldn’t it?”
