“It’s not like that.” He puts his hand up. “I mean, yes, I did sleep with her. But it wasn’t in exchange for anything.” He looks at the rug that appears just worn enough to be antique. “She said she couldn’t connect to the characters. So I’m still looking for representation. And working as a glorified intern. I have an actual cubicle—like with the short walls? But it’s fine. It was time to get serious about writing as a career. That was never going to happen in Ohio.”
“Why was I constantly spotting you for taquitos and weed while you were cosplaying as a service worker?”
“I was supporting myself in Columbus. Mostly. Hell, I thought about staying. But after you stopped talking to me, I realized I didn’t want to go back to Lokahi. I didn’t want to go back to Ohio if we were just gonna be strangers. The main thing keeping me there was you.”
“You have friends.”
“Samantha, I dropped out of the MFA—what?—fouryears ago? Everyone I actually liked from my cohort is long gone. I looked around and thought, ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ Even showing up to literary events, I felt like that guy whograduated ten years ago and still hangs around high school students. I had to do something else.”
“Like annoying people with your trite observations inMcSweeney’s?” I suggest.
“See?” He claps his hands together. “This is what I miss. I come to you when I need my ego pierced by a dull butter knife.” He sits back in the armchair, getting comfortable, while I’m perched on the edge of my seat. “Humans have to be delusional about something. For me, it’s writing. For you, it’s older men who manage chain restaurants.”
I lean forward in the chair. “You were just sitting on a pile of gold doubloons while calling Nick a sellout for managing a Chili’s.”
“Samantha—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Samantha. You were the one literally cohabitating with a metric ton of potential cash.”
“Funny you should mention that,” I say. “Because if I was delusional about any man, it was my dad.” Nick never required any delusions.
“Wow.” Hal raises his eyebrows. “Did you start seeing your therapist again?”
“No. But I’ve actually been making some comics of my own,” I say. “Processing a lot of…events.”
“That’s great.” There’s a tiny twitch of nervous energy in his body language. “I always thought you needed a creative outlet.”
“I’ve been exploring a new art style lately. I usually draw you as a rutabaga. Sometimes one of those gourds with all the bumps.”
“Come on now. After I said you were the reason I stayed in Columbus?” He presses a hand against his heart. “You’re making art about how much you hate me?”
I shake my head. “It’s not revenge. I’m trying to make sense of all these different moments that we had. I don’t hate you. Not at this point. But if I did hate you…” I swallow. “It’s because you meant so much to me. And if I hadn’t been so afraid of scaring you off, I could’ve told you that.” For once, I don’t blink back the tears in front of him.
After a beat, Hal gets up from his chair, gesturing for me to wait. I hear a door open and a little bit of rummaging around.
“Here,” he says, returning with something in his hand. “I bought this a few years ago. It was supposed to be a going-away present, but you never left. So I just…hung on to it. I think you’re the only person in the world who likes this issue unironically. I have a feeling it’s because Magneto shows up for once.” He hands me a boarded and bagged comic book. I hold it up.Vision and the Scarlet Witch #4.“It’s always belonged to you.”
I look at the comic, letting memories of that day flood my brain. Sometimes old things can be time machines. Because in a second, I can see Hal and his copy of Camus behind the counter. Comic Book Guy insulting me to my face. The knocked-over coffee.
I feel like I could rewriteit:
“I was trying to provoke a little argument to make my day more interesting. Not chase you out of the store.” He looks me in the eye. “It’s a flirting tactic.”
Instead of accusing him of negging, I tell him my name is Sam.
And from that day forward, that’s exactly what he callsme.
God, I wanted it to be Hal and me so bad. Hal was one of the first people who challenged me. Who made me laugh. Who made me come without faking it. In our best moments, I really thought it was something like love.
“I always knew the ending and just wanted to prolong it,” he says.
“We had a good run,” I tell him.
But we only worked like this. Keeping each other at arm’s length.
The truth is, I didn’t see enough art in the actual panels, so I got really creative in the space between. That’s where my infatuation with Hal lived. I took our sketchy snapshots and our banter and animated this whole romance in my mind. It was never there on the page.
