“No, it’s fine.”
“This is Calloway Creek Park.” She points. “Over there is a trailhead to the creek and the miles of walking trails. You like…liked…to run those trails. Up ahead is McQuaid Circle. That’s the heart of the town. Or the old part of town, anyway. There’s been a lot of development to the west over the years. That’s where you’ll find Target and Home Depot and other big stores.” She waves a hand around. “Here is where the small businesses are.” She stops walking. “There it is.”
I look across the street and stare at the sign:The Criss Coffee Corner
“So you run the coffee house for Dawn and Chuck?”
“Iownthe coffee house. Well…weown it. Your parents gave it to us after we got married.”
“Right. I think someone told me that. It’s all still kind of fuzzy.”
“Your parents still like to come in and help out from time to time when they’re in town, but they retired right after we said ‘I do’.” She points to the windows over the shop. “That’s where we live. Your folks used to rent it out, but after my mom died, they let me move in. It’s where I’ve been ever since. You moved in with me right after college.”
“Where did we go to college?”
“Wedidn’t.Youdid. I started working full-time at the coffee house right after high school graduation. You went to NYU ona scholarship. The scholarship paid room and board, so you lived on campus even though you could have commuted.” She chuckles. “I can’t tell you how many times you snuck me into the dorms. And you came home every weekend. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
She reaches for my hand as if it’s a habit. Instinctively, I pull away. And feel like an absolute dirtbag for doing it.
“Sorry. I just have to get used to this.”
She nods sadly, then tries to put on a brave face. I feel for her. I’ve tried to put myself in her position. But I can’t just force myself to be that guy—the one who wrote the letter. I don’t even feel comfortable in my own skin, so how can I be comfortable with her?
“Do you want to go into the shop?”
It’s dark inside, and the closed sign is on the door, so there’s no chance of running into other people. But still, I fear if we go inside, she’ll bombard me with more stories I’m supposed to know but don’t.
“Maybe another time. It’s been a lot.”
She motions to the side of the building. “There’s an outside entrance to our apartment and another from the back room.”
As we walk around the building and then through the heavy steel door and up the stairs, a huge feeling of unease comes over me. I don’t want to be here.
Ava opens the door at the top of the stairs and lets me take it all in. She’s quiet as I drape the blanket over the back of a kitchen chair then walk through the apartment. I’ve never felt so out of place. Part of me knows I need to be here. To at least try. Because it seems we had a good life, and if I could only remember, maybe we still could.
In the bedroom, there’s a queen-size bed. Am I supposed to sleep in it?With her?The second bedroom is set up as an office. A desk. A comfortable-looking chair in the corner. Somebookshelves. There’s no computer here, which makes me think she does all her work downstairs in the shop. So what does she do in here? Or maybe it was mine. Confirmation comes when I see medical journals, textbooks, and the most definitive and comprehensive medical reference book on the planet: Gray’s Anatomy.
How in the fuck do I even know that?
There are pictures of us everywhere. All over the apartment. Hanging on the walls, sitting atop shelves. My face is all over this place, yet nothing here is mine. This doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to someone I’m not. And I feel as though I’m suffocating.
The photo albums. The tree. The letter. The kiss. The pressure to be the man I’m not sure I can be. It’s all too much.
I shake my head. “I can’t do this right now.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“I can’t be here. I need time to process everything. Today has been… well, it’s been a day.”
“Where will you go?”
WherewillI go? I don’t know anyone. I suppose I know Carter. But he has a kid. Dawn and Chuck have been very kind, and not bad to be around. They felt safe, as if they had no expectations. They weren’t cramming my past down my throat and pressuring me to remember.
I don’t want to make Ava feel bad, but I just can’t stay here. It doesn’t feel right.
“Can you call Dawn? I think I’ll stay in my old room tonight.”
I visibly see her swallow tears as she pulls out her phone. She taps Dawn’s name and hands it to me, then she excuses herself to the bathroom, where I hear her cry.
