At least he wasn’t on one knee anymore.Memory overlapping the present had been ...a lot ...on top of a shit ton.
So, not great.
“Since when?”I ignored the fact that I didn’t know how long I’d been speaking out loud or what I might have said.
“A couple of years.”
“But Arizona ...”
His eyes flicked to mine and then to the floor.He hadn’t told me he’d moved, just like he hadn’t told me he’d moved back.We’d parted ways like two people playing chicken: the first to make contact lost.I’d distanced myself from the friends we had in common.In twelve interminable months, I didn’t have any remaining connections to him.No more strings tying us together.
It’d been self-preservation, as much as spite.
A defense against the bombardment of grief and loss that flooded my system whenever his name was mentioned.But now I was desensitized to his existence.
And his existence washere.
“I moved a couple of years ago.”He rubbed a palm along his jaw, a nervous habit.“My friend, uh, Hazel, do you remember Hazel?”
I nodded, even though I was still searching the recesses of my mind.A nice woman, who mostly kept to herself.Smart.Competent.Remi always had a soft spot for quiet people—possibly why we never worked out.He needed me to be quieter.I needed ...more.More reassurance.More connection.More of him.
My mouth still hung open.I cupped my throat, my bent elbow supported by my other hand.
“Uh, she owns this place.”
I pointed at the floor beneath our feet.
“Yeah.”His head jerked to look at something over his shoulder.
“Wow.She’s young.”She was a couple of years younger than us.She couldn’t be thirty yet.
His eyes never really fell on me.As soon as they wandered in my direction, they’d snap somewhere else.Anywhere else.
“Yeah.Anyway, she asked me to work here, and Mom wanted me to move back, and Mitch had a kid—”
“You’re an uncle?”I interrupted.I couldn’t tell if this word vomit was soothing or overwhelming.At least, he seemed as unsettled by me as I was by him.
“Yeah.Maisey.”
“I love that name.”
“I know.”
Of course, he knew.We’d discussed baby names from time-to-time.My mind conjuring the image of him scooping up our blue-eyed, red-haired future child in his impossibly gentle hands was always right there as we talked.Maybe after we moved to East Lansing for his schooling.Maybe after I started working in environmental conservation.Maybe after he graduated.
Maybe after we learned to actually communicate.
But no.
He had a little Maisey to dote over, and that was at once beautiful and eviscerating.
I was cored out.Husked.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.“Uh, yeah, she’ll be two in spring.She’s really cute.”
“I bet.”I sounded empty.
“Uh-huh.”Finally, his eyes swept up and down my body as if he was landing back inside of his mind from wherever he’d gone.“What are you doing here?”
