A wink. A smile.I’m watching you, orEverything is going to be all right.
Love is a net. It can catch you long after the person is no longer there.
“When you are ready,” Jake says, his eyes on the sea, “someone is going to be very lucky.”
I feel the ocean exhale. Relief at relinquishing to its shores what it can no longer hold.
“We’ll see,” I tell him.
He nods. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kendra and I are having a cup of tea on Irina’s deck. Inside, Irina pours herself a glass of wine. I see her open the refrigerator, take out a bowl of berries, and walk outside to join us. Her backyard is all stone—slate floors, built-in rock benches, and a wall of greenery behind us. There’s a firepit in the center, although it’s warm enough now to not need it. Her backyard is my favorite oasis. An unholy marriage of spa, redwood forest, and English garden.
“Gooseberries,” she says. She sets down a bowl of raspberries and round, golden fruit. “Low glycemic index and excellent for your liver.” She smiles at us.
I pop one in my mouth. It’s tart and sweet. Almost the consistency of a sour grape but juicier.
“These are good,” I say.
Kendra tries one. “Strange.”
“Strange and good is my favorite combo,” Irina says. She sitsdown next to us on the custom pillow-clad stone bench and crosses her legs. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater—a rare casual sight. “So, how are you?”
They both turn to look at me. We are here, in Irina’s backyard, because I am newly single again. Or rather, the intention of this night is to both buoy and unpack that reality.
“Fine,” I say. “I got my last box on Wednesday.”
My old apartment was already rented, but as it turned out my landlord, Mike, had another property down the block. It’s not as big as my last place, but it’s newly updated, fresh paint on the walls, and with about a quarter of my stuff in it, it looks almost spacious.
“How was it?” Irina asks.
“He hates me.”
“Please. He doesn’t hate you,” Kendra says. “He loves you. It’s hard to love someone and not be with them.”
I take a sip of tea—spearmint.
“It doesn’t feel like love right now,” I say.
When I went to pick up my last box, Jake wasn’t there. All that was left was a note: “Your sneakers are in the hall closet.”
That’s it. He hadn’t even taken them out. But who could blame him.
“Oh, how the hell do you know,” Irina says. “You’re an infant.”
“Not quite,” I say.
She waves me off. “You know love isn’t enough—I’ve said it to you before—but that’s basic shit. Everyone knows that. You need water and food and toilet paper, to start. Obviously. The thing no one talks about is what love actuallyis.” Irina uncrosses her legs and leans forward, elbows on knees. “Penelope and I have beenthrough nearly every iteration of this dance you can do. We’ve been committed and married and separated and friends. We’ve had every different kind of love they talk about, at a hundred different points. The key to love is this, baby: Can you move together?”
Kendra starts laughing. I turn to her next to me. “What?”
“I’m just remembering your first wedding,” she tells Irina. “You brought out that boa constrictor that everyone thought was real.”
“He was real,” Irina says, somewhat wearily. “He was sleeping.”
“She’s right,” Kendra says. “Joel and I don’t work because he’s my person, we work because I feel like I can be every bad and impossible version of myself with him. I can change. And it’s not even that I know he’ll still love me, it’s that it’s not even a question, he has.”
