Melanie
Mel,
This is so good. Are you in my head? For real, I feel that so hard. I love it. Let’s definitely work on a tune today. I’ll try to think of some more words in the meantime. By the way, love the highlights you got. I’m going to start calling you Strawberry Girl.
J
5
MELANIE
NOW
The pedal train outing with Josh feels like a first date. I guess in many ways, it is. I haven’t seen him in years and before Cara’s death, I was so fixated on Josh. I stupidly thought we’d end up together back then. I thought maybe I’d graduate, wait a year for him to graduate, and we’d head off to Nashville together. But unfortunately, it didn’t turn out that way. I was left reeling and alone after Cara died. I know Josh struggled too. He never came back to school after her death, and I was recovering from my broken leg, among other things I’ve never shared with anyone. I wanted so badly to see him, but I was literally a prisoner in my house. I couldn’t force him to come see me. So, we just didn’t see each other, except for the funeral, when I couldn’t get close enough to him to have a real conversation.
Now I desperately want to ask why he left without a word. I want to spill everything I went through in his absence, how lonely it all felt. The urge presses at me, but I bite it back. We’re only just reconnecting, and the last thing I want is to push him away—especially when I’ve missed him more than I can admit out loud.
“So,” we say at the same time. We laugh, our gazes locked. My chest flutters, and I have to look away. I fix my gaze on the marsh in front of me.
“You never settled down?” he asks, looking sideways at me.
“Nope.” I shrug. “It’s just me.”
“Never met the one?” he probes further, cocking his head. I can’t tell if he’s interested in me or just being nosy.
I sigh. I’m not prepared for the emotions that his question brings up. I shake my head. “I’ve dated off and on but it always seems to fizzle out. People drop off. I’ve been ghosted more times than I can count. I’m just…everyone’s second choice.”
Josh’s brows push together in a frown, his lips forming a tight line. He shakes his head. “No, no way. I refuse to believe that.” He reaches across my lap and pulls my clasped hands apart, taking one in his. “If I never left here, you would have been myfirstchoice.” His voice comes out husky.
Before I can say anything, someone shouts from the car behind us. “Wow! Look at that!”
Josh and I stop pedaling and turn in our seats, looking for the owner of the voice. We find a teenage boy, pointing up to the tall wooden perch anchored in the middle of the marsh. Sitting on the top of it is a single bald eagle.
“Wow,” I breathe.
“I know. I’ve never seen one up close like this.” Josh drops my hand, reaching into his pocket for his phone before snapping a couple of pictures. I should do the same, but I’m entranced, watching him, and wondering what things might have been like if he’d never left.
* * *
To makeupfor Josh buying my train ticket, I insist on taking him to lunch. The problem is, it’s already two p.m., I’m due at work at four thirty, and there is a wait everywhere. That’s an early summer Saturday for you. We’re moseying around the mall when I get an idea. “Do you like poke bowls?” I ask Josh, grabbing his hand so he stops walking.
“What’s a poke bowl?” He squints at me.He’s been in Tennessee too long.
“You know, it’s a rice bowl with ahi tuna, avocado, vegetables—there’s usually a dressing.” I frown. “You really haven’t had one?”
Josh chuckles, scratching his chin. “I haven’t, but I’ll try it.”
“Then I know just the place,” I tug his hand and lead him back up to Jackson Street. “There’s a little beach hut. We can get a bowl and eat it on the beach. Then I have to get ready for work,” I say, pushing down the sadness about leaving him alone for the evening. Twenty minutes later, we’re walking up the path to the beach across from the fish hut that doesn’t have a name. We settle in the high sand, and I pass Josh his takeout container and a plastic fork. He opens it and pokes his fork around for a minute or two, eliciting a laugh out of me.
“You can mix it up,” I tell him teasingly. “Or, you can take a single bite of each ingredient. There is no wrong way.”
“Why do I feel like you think there is a wrong way though?” Josh eyes me skeptically, a fork full of poke bowl hovering in front of his mouth.
“Just eat it! You like tuna, don’t you?” I furrow my brow, suddenly wondering if he actually does like fish. There are so many things I don’t know about him anymore.
“I do,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Here goes.” He shoves the bite in his mouth and makes an approving sound that I find oddly sexy before going back in for more.
“See?” I ask, giggling. “I told you.” I dig into my own bowl, and we eat in comfortable silence, perhaps because this is the first thing we’ve eaten today, or perhaps because neither of us knows how to start talking about all of the things left unfinished.
