Bro, you have no idea. I push myself up to a sitting position andlook over at Daniel. Surreptitiously. Something about him seems agitated. Did he have a similar vision? No, it’s impossible.
I must have been dreaming. I’ve had these two guys on my mind nonstop for the past twenty-four hours. But then I remember the sound of the baby’s cry, and I feel lightheaded again. Did we have children together? What did this all mean?
When we leave the sound bath, I wave goodbye to the crew. “See you guys in five minutes at wherever we all end up somehow,” I say and everyone laughs. Ellis walks me to my car, and for the first time, I feel burdened by his attentiveness. How long will I drag this out?
“Hey, sorry if I made fun of the sound bath,” he says when I get into my wagon. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”
“Ellis, you are never a jerk.” I put my seat belt on.
“Absolutely not true,” he says, his arm draped over the car door, his body stooped to talk to me. His hair falls into his eyes. “We’re totally crashing your birthday trip in every way possible. You need a vacation from your vacation.”
“See you later,” I say, sitting back in my seat to look up at him. Already saying my goodbyes.
He leans in and kisses me, softly, softly. “Drive safe.” Then he shuts the door and watches me as I drive away. The pull in my ribs—it stretches the farther I drive away from him, the connection between us fighting what I have to do. It feels wrong. But that’s my own fault for letting this whole thing with Ellis happen in the first place. I only have myself to blame as I swipe at the tears on my face.
—
I spend the rest of the day alone, wandering some vintage shops and visiting an outdoor art museum by an artist named Noah Purifoy. Each art installment is left out to face the elements of the desert, and the rust and decay become a part of the story. It’s weird andfascinating and exactly the right way to spend this birthday time, which often passes in surreal swathes mixed with reality.
I grab a burrito for dinner and eat it sitting in the trunk of my wagon, parked on a scrubby slope where I have a spectacular view of the sunset. The sky is a blush pink for a few minutes, and I enjoy my food with a cold beer, a lime squeezed into the neck of the bottle.
Before the night is over, I’ll need to end things with Ellis. This is clear. It’s unfair to keep this going just because I enjoy it.
And whatever happened in that sound bath—past life or no—it was telling me something. Pushing me toward my fated. Enough is enough.
I have big,bigregrets about burdening Ellis with my tragic backstory. It was a step in the wrong direction. Even if, at the time, it felt so right.
A bean drops into my lap and I stare at it, feeling sorry for myself.
My dread of this interaction feels new. My entire life—I’ve known I’d end up with the right person. I just had to be patient. I don’t stress about the big questions because in a way I’ve always known the answer. The universe has a plan.
A breakup was a breakup because I was over it. The romance had died.
Sothis, this dread is different. I don’t feel over it, even in the face of my fated. The romance with Ellis isn’t dead. It’s a baby spark that I need to snuff out. And I have to ignore the terrible feeling that accompanies this shitty task ahead. The feeling will be temporary, I remind myself. Because me and Daniel? It’s the real thing. The table has been set for us.
16
It’s night by the time I get back to my yurt. I turn on my lantern and open the flaps that serve as doors. I’m taking off my shoes when I notice the mason jar full of blooming purple sage sitting on the nightstand next to my bed.
The sage is fragrant and fills the small space with its perfume. I pick up the folded piece of paper laid next to it.
Happy birthday. I’m glad to know you and wish you everything good this year.
Love,
Ellis
My gaze stays on the “love”—written so easily. His handwriting is slanted at an assured angle, precise with strong strokes. The confidence with which he’s written “love” to me is instantly clarifying. I take a deep breath because it’s really time.
There’s a light on in Ellis’s yurt, and it glows yellow in the dark.I can hear the sounds of revelry happening down at the first camp, again.
I knock on the frame of the yurt, even though the flaps are tied back so that I can walk right in. “Hi, you decent?”
He’s not. Ellis walks up to me shirtless, just wearing hiking pants.Thank you, universe, you complete asshole.His hair is mussed, his pants covered in dust, and he’s holding a shirt in his hands.
“Hi.” No one else is in the yurt and he pulls me in by the arm. “Get in here.”
“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” I say, already much too used to his casual touch. “I just got back and saw your note. And flowers. Thank you, they’re lovely.”
