As predicted there was much drinking, and it would turn out to be the night that changed everything between them. Matt and Lucy won “most original costume,” which meant a bottle of tequila they decided to open and share right then and there. He walked her home—well, they stumbled to her place, their costumes disheveled, the wire in both his tie and her skirt long gone, discarded in Jake’s bedroom, where they’d sneaked a few secret kisses, the thrill of it leaving both of them breathless, wanting more.
It was hard to detail exactly what happened next, the evening hazy with alcohol and desire. But when they woke up the next morning, Lucy was lying beside Matt, gently snoring in a way he still found adorable, her gelled-hair still sticking out to the side—though it had wilted significantly—and naked aside from his boring black-and-gray tie, which she wore loosely around her neck.
20
The tie.It made sense now, why I had bought Matt that uninspired, black-and-gray tie for our anniversary.
“That was it,” Matt said, and my thoughts snapped back to him. “The moment you put the gel in my hair, I realized I didn’t want to be only friends anymore. And it seemed you felt the same.”
“It was the gel?” I asked, laughing a little. The story had been sweet and funny and romantic, but it felt like someone else’s story. Or like a great scene in a movie we’d watched. I was sad not to recall it, desperately wanted to remember things the way Matt described them.
“I still use that gel sometimes,” he said, smiling. “Good memories.” His face was hopeful, and I realized he was waiting for me to agree.Maybe she’ll remember it now...maybe she’ll remember me now...
I stared at my half-eaten pasta cooling on my plate, unsure what to say. I didn’t remember any of it and I felt terrible about that. So many times in these past weeks I longed to mourn what I’d lost, but was unable to because I was constantly confronted by what everyone else had lost, too. And even though it wasn’t my fault—I would have given anything for things to be different—it broke my heart, every time.
“We didn’t officially start dating until a few months later, though,” Matt added.
I looked up from my plate, surprised. “We didn’t? Why not?”
He shrugged, then grinned. “I was an idiot.”
I waited for him to elaborate.
“We were such great friends and I didn’t want to screw that up,” he said. He looked sad again, likely thinking about how everything got screwed up anyway. “But I came to my senses right around Valentine’s Day, when Jake asked you out.”
“Wait, Jake asked me out?JakeJake?” I asked. “What did I say?” It was so bizarre to have no memory of any of this, yet to know it had all happened.
“No, of course,” he replied. “You said you were waiting for me to come around.”
The longing to remember such a happy time in my life ran deep. “Please tell me Valentine’s Day isn’t our anniversary,” I said, cocking one eyebrow.
“Come on, do you think I’m that lame?” he asked. Then he laughed at the look on my face. “Right. I told you about the cereal killer costume. No, our anniversary is February 15. I figured twenty-four hours was enough of a buffer.”
I laughed, too, and then had an idea of something I could do for Matt. Something small but, I hoped, significant.
“So, I know it’s still over a week away, but where should we do lunch your first day back?” Matt asked, trying to keep the mood light. Trying to make things easier for both of us. “Are you done?” He was half standing, his fingers on the edge of my plate. I nodded and he took it and stacked it on top of his plate. “Maybe sushi? Burritos?”
“No,” I said. He paused, hands full of our dirty dishes.
“Okay, no to burritos and sushi. What about that falafel place—”
“No, I’m not done.”
Matt looked confused, glanced at my plate in his hands. “With your pasta?”
I held up a finger—a “give me a minute” request—and got up from the table and headed for the bedroom. If he said anything else, I didn’t hear him, because I was already rummaging around in the closet.
Matt was soon at the bedroom door, the dishes gone from his hands, a curious look on his face. “What are you doing, Lucy?”
“Looking for something.”
He paused, his voice measured as he asked, “Anything I can help with?”
“Don’t worry, this isn’t a memory lapse thing.” I stuck my head farther into the depths of the closet, reached toward the back and, moving a few items aside, pulled out a shoebox. I set the box on the bed and opened the lid, lifting out the gold-hued plastic bag. “I’m sorry it isn’t wrapped,” I said, handing it to Matt.
He took the bag from me but didn’t open it. He seemed nervous, unsure what to do. “What’s this?”
“It was your anniversary present,” I replied, sitting down on the bed. I kept my voice even, a swirl of emotions moving through me. I could only imagine how it felt for Matt to hear me refer to our anniversary. I pushed past the lump in my throat. “I bought it when I was shopping with Jenny. The day I slipped, and, well...you know the rest. So, here.”
