He leaned over and reached into his back pocket, taking out a piece of paper that he slid toward me with his fingertips.
“Two things helped me: the internet and the desire to see that smile on your face,” he said. As I looked down at the paper, I thought I should let my hair down so he wouldn’t see the blood rising in my face and making my ears glow. When I unfolded it, I saw a list.
“You don’t want to keep the rest of your plan a secret?” He shook his head, so I kept reading to satisfy my curiosity. Everything was there: names, telephones, distances, right down to the last detail. He’d spent a long time preparing the itinerary. It had taken effort, not to mention money. I looked up at him. “Trey,” I said, “this must have cost a fortune. Let me pay my part of it.”
“No. I told you it was a gift. A gift is something you give someone, not something you ask them to go halfsies on.”
“As a gift,” I replied, “I accept it, but still…this is too much.”
“It’s not, though. I want to do everything for you. I want to make up for how I treated you, even if I know I’ll never be able to.”
“Trey, I don’t need you to make up anything.”
His expression was pained. “I screwed up bad. And it started long before that night.”
“What do you mean?”
“I should have done something about my feelings as soon as Istarted to realize I liked you. I shouldn’t have dragged it out like that. What happened was my fault. I hurt you, and what I did was wrong, and I can’t stop regretting it. It was a mistake, and I made it worse when I threw you out like that, Harper. I realize I can’t change the past, as much as I’d like to. But I can try to do better now.”
“Trey, don’t punish yourself…”
“I can’t help it! I can’t stop thinking over all that I said. And the fact that we did it. That I was your first time. And that I can’t remember it! I don’t remember what it felt like to touch your body, I don’t remember what your skin smelled like when it was close to mine. I don’t remember your caresses. I don’t remember what it felt like to kiss you intimately, or to be inside you. And that hurts me because I liked you, Harper. I’ve wondered so many times what it would be like to be with you.”
I was speechless and felt a dull ache invading those wounds that I thought had healed. The tense silence stretched on as our eyes met in a stare. I did remember every second of it: his body, his aroma. I remembered his lips, our intimacy, his teeth, his nails, his moans. Our caresses. All we managed to say to each other in silence. All I felt. Him. The void at my feet. How simple it was to jump. Getting lost in his breathing and the beats of his heart. Reaching the summit. Holding each other and tumbling over the edge.
I had a strange feeling, as if my eyes were windows and he could stare into me and see me replaying these images in my mind. And I had a knot in my throat, because everything he’d said had been in the past tense.
But then he spoke again, his voice gravelly, intense: “I still like you. I still think about what it would be like.”
His comment took me off guard. I’d never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. The tension in the air was like electricity. Emotion piled on emotion in my chest: happiness, desire, hope, fear…oscillating,vibrating, overlapping. I was afraid my ribs weren’t strong enough to hold them all in, that they’d explode and send shock waves rippling through the room.
Everything seemed to disappear. The room, the other diners, the entire world. I was silent, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I did know, and I wasn’t ready to open up like that. I was scared to think ofuswhen I didn’t even know if anuswas possible.
We stayed there contemplating each other, trying to decipher each other, for more time than I could reasonably count. Then I looked at the paper and realized our dinner was the last item on the list. I was sure we were supposed to be there another day. Was I confused?
“I was thinking tomorrow we could improvise,” he said, as if he could read my mind.
I liked that idea. Just letting ourselves go.
We turned our attention to our meal. The music playing in the background was nice, and the food was to die for. I knew everything, down to the smallest gesture, would linger forever in my memory.
“Tell me about your mother,” he said after we shared a slice of carrot cake with buttery icing. I hadn’t seen that question coming, and I needed a moment to respond.
“Most of my memories of her are like postcards. I might see something that calls up a scene, and then for a second or two, she’s back. But that’s it. I was really little when she died.”
“I wish you hadn’t lost her so young. It wasn’t fair. Not for either of you.”
“You’re right,” I whispered, trying to suppress the tears. “She was a special woman. That’s something I remember about her: the way she could light up a room, the way her laughter drowned out everything. I remember her braiding my hair. I remember her voice when she used to read to me. But in a strange way. Like I couldn’t tell you if her voice was high or deep. It’s different. It’s like…”
“It’s a feeling.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed. He understood me better than I understood myself. “What was your mother like?” I knew I should be careful touching that subject, but I hoped I could break through his shell and find out more about him after the confessions he’d made to me before.
“I think they’re waiting for us to leave,” he whispered, as if I hadn’t asked.
It was true: the tables around us were empty, and the waitress was standing at the bar. We asked her to bring the check, and we left not long afterward. When we got to the car, Trey said we should go to North Rustico, a nearby town he’d seen photos of in his research. On the drive over, I was lost in thought, and he made no effort to interrupt me.
We parked by a café called Blue Mussel, bought a couple of ice creams, and walked to the lighthouse, which wasn’t far. The views there were gorgeous. In one place, the sea pushed inland, forming an estuary that joined the beaches of North Rustico, Anglo Rustico, and Rusticoville. The buildings were few, the lights were dim, scattered like fireflies in the night, and the moon shone in its pale halo in the clear sky. Where the sea met the horizon was absolute darkness.
