Cal dropped his hands on his hips and stared at the trail. After a moment, he said, "This isn't about ice cream."
I shook my head. "A little bit. But no. Not really."
"Could you help me out and tell me what it is about?" I didn't say anything. He tipped his chin up, toward the bend of the trail. "Come on. Keep walking."
I followed him and we fell into a companionable silence again. I would've been past the third or fourth song on my playlist if I was alone. Eventually, I said, "I like routines. There's not much predictability in my work so I need it in the rest of my life. I rely on my routines when everything else is chaos."
Cal squinted at me, fine pleats forming at the corners of his eyes. "You don't have to explain any of this to me, Stel," he said. "You walk at the same place, at the same time, in the same lime green sneaks every damn day."
"It's good self-care," I said, nodding toward the trail.
"Sure," he replied easily.
"I like routines," I repeated. "I also like having an active sex life. I don't need deep, complex reasons to justify either."
"No, you do not," Cal agreed.
"And if I do have reasons," I continued, "they don't have to define me. I am not my reasons."
"Agreed. On all counts."
"I can blame my work. I can blame my past relationships. I can blame my upbringing. But the truth of the matter is that I don't want to assign any blame. I don't have to. I'm allowed to enjoy sex. I don't have to be broken or fucked up."
"I get it," he said, and I believed him. Despite the fact I was tossing out random declarations that didn't neatly connect, he seemed to genuinely accept my comments. I needed that. "I can blame work. Past relationships too. And let's not even touch the upbringing. We'd need a marathon course to unpack that."
"But you're not," I said. It was more of a question.
He nodded. "No. I'm not." He gestured toward me. "As I believe you're aware, I can be painfully awkward."
"There's been a moment or two," I conceded with a smile. "I realized years ago that relationships aren't my thing. They don't work for me. They don't make me happy."
Cal hit me with a sidelong glance before asking, "Whatdoeswork for you?"
This was easy. I had this one down to talking points. I'd smoothed it and evened it out over the years, eliminating terms likefuck buddiesorfriends with benefitsbecause neither were appropriate. "There are a few men I see on a regular basis," I said. "It's casual and easy, and completely free from emotional attachments. No families, no friends involved, nothing too personal. There's some mutual fondness, sure, but no one is asking where it's going because it's not going anywhere." I glanced up at him, witnessing the exact moment when he turned to stone. If it was possible, even the morning sunlight shining down on him dimmed. "Everyone prefers it that way."
Silence settled around us for a few minutes. I expected the silence. I understood it. My statements offered no room for flexibility, no alternatives.
"You know your mind, I have no doubt of that," Cal said. I started to interrupt but he brought his hand between my shoulder blades, stopping me with a single touch. "But I doubt you're giving yourself a real chance, Stella, not to mention me. I doubt you're remembering that first morning when"—he paused, shaking his head by small degrees as he stared at the pond—"when everything happened. You felt it. I know you did."
I thought of fifteen different reasons why he was wrong. Rebuttals and arguments, anything to get him out of my softest, weakest spots. I thought of them all but I couldn't bring myself to deliver any of them. I didn't want the arguments. I didn't want to defend myself. I didn't want to say anything.
Then, I said everything.
"I was engaged once." Cal's gaze snapped toward me, stayed there. But I couldn't meet it. I couldn't let him see everything the way he always did. Instead, I stared ahead. "I lived at home through college. Paying for state school was a stretch for my parents. Campus housing was out of the question. So, I lived at home. Commuted to Bridgewater." I shrugged but my hands took on a life of their own, fluttering against my thighs as I spoke. "There was a boy from my neighborhood and—and we were together. Getting married seemed like the right thing to do. My younger sister was already engaged and I thought I was ready and I wanted it and it seemed like the right time but then—then I called it off."
Cal didn't say anything but he didn't stop staring at me either. Then he reached for my hand, folded it into his.
"I can't explain why but I did, breaking it off with him. I couldn't go through with it." He squeezed my hand like he was trying to transfer strength through his skin. "I'd worked hard at getting a good internship that summer but nothing panned out. At the last minute, a position opened up at a sports management firm in Seattle and I took it. I canceled my wedding and flew to Seattle and didn't come back for three months." With my free hand, I touched my forehead, traced a finger over my left eyebrow. "I didn't want to see the fallout so I left."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Stel."
I blew out a breath. "Maybe not," I said with a bitter laugh. "I couldn't hide in Seattle forever. I had to go back to school. I had to go home and I had to see him again. We talked and then—then we got back together. Got engaged all over again. It just happened. I knew it wasn't right for me but I let it happen. I knew I wasn't happy but I didn't know how to say that without making everyone else unhappy."
"This isn't going to end well," Cal said.
I shook my head. "He ended it that time. No explanation, no discussion. Nothing." I shrugged, forcing the weight of that relationship off my shoulders. "But he got married within a year. Ten months after demanding his ring back, if I remember correctly. He gave it to her. The woman he married. That was awful. Just fucking awful. I knew he wasn't the one for me but it still hurt to see it go down. It hurt worse to see it without a whisper of explanation." Another shrug. "Not that I'd really given him an explanation. I gave what I wanted and I got what I gave, you know?"
"I'm sorry," he said. "I…I'm sorry you had to experience that."
