22
A snowflake landed on my nose as I walked back to my apartment from the dining hall. I looked up at the gray sky and pondered how cold it was in New Hampshire and that it would be about forty degrees warmer in Los Angeles twenty-four hours from then. Not feeling motivated to pack yet, I pulled out my phone and called Tam.
“You’re procrastinating about packing for your trip, aren’t you?” she asked upon answering.
“How’d you guess?” A few more snowflakes filled the air. “It’s snowing here.”
“You don’t like winter,” she retorted. “Go pack your sunny California clothes. It’ll be a welcome break from reality.”
“I don’t know about any of this, Tam.” I sighed. “Where are you? You love winter. Is it snowing there?”
“Not yet. Hopefully later. I just got on the T at Charles Street. I’m heading to Professor Plum’s place. I want to snuggle up by his fireplace.”
“Plum has a real fireplace? He’s definitely a catch.”
“Wood-burning. His place is so cool,” she said. “I love Porter Square.”
“Am I making a big mistake, Tam?”
“Going to LA with Heath or going with him instead of Kyle?”
“Both.” I could hear the rumble of the subway and knew the call might cut out soon. “What do you think?”
“Okay, I’ve given this some thought,” she rattled off. “Maybe you’re like Harry and Sally. You should rewatch that tonight for some further guidance.”
“But they didn’t talk after they slept together—except for that awkward dinner where they ate those big leafy salads and didn’t really say anything. Kyle and I talk all the time. Except for those couple of weeks before his karaoke performance. But you know what I mean.”
“You two didn’t talk for over fifteen years,” she responded.
“Well, this is different. Considering us, I think—”
“What, Dev? The call keeps cutting out. I just need to move in with this man and stop all this public transit back and forth. What did you say?”
I practically whispered, “I said, considering us .”
“So?”
“He always says that. Kyle. Or at least he did, back when we used to talk about us and what we were going to do.”
“I think you know, Devon.”
Kyle was walking up the path, his sweatpants jammed into L.L. Bean boots, oversized flannel shirt, no coat despite the weather, his beard overgrown, and his hair sticking up everywhere. “I gotta go, Tam,” I said, ending the call.
“Hey,” I said as he approached.
“Hi,” he said. “Such a good dinner tonight. I loved that chicken shawarma. I can’t begin to tell you how much better the food is this year. That sauce with the dill. Yum.”
“I’m so glad,” I said, looking at Kyle and noticing crumbs stuck on the collar of his shirt. “Have some cookies at dinner, too?” I asked, lightly brushing them off onto the sidewalk that was now frosted with snow.
“I think four or five,” he said with a smile. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I did a whole thing in U.S. History today about presidents and their favorite comfort foods. I figured with winter and the holidays it would break things up a bit and keep them entertained. And you’re in good company. Not only does Joe Biden love ice cream, but James Madison was a big fan.”
“Wasn’t he tiny? I would think he was more of a veggie guy.”
“A hundred pounds, but he loved the ice cream, just like you do.”
“Sweet. What’s the grossest thing you told the kids?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Nixon. Cottage cheese and ketchup.”
“You’re making this up.” I loved bantering with Kyle. There was always something for us to talk about.
“Not at all. Nasty, right?”
“Totally.” It was getting dark, and I had an early flight with Heath out of Boston. “I better go,” I said. “I’ll be gone for a few days. I need to go out to LA with David.”
“Clippers game. Should be good. I’ll try to watch it.”
“I’ll be home the next night. His mom is able to meet him in Denver.”
“Have fun.”
“It’s hectic and a lot of work and not much sleep, but getting the chance to see him play is always great,” I said, shifting on my feet back and forth. I found myself looking down more than I was looking up, and I felt it. He knew.
“You’re taking the paramedic with you, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.
“I am,” I replied and cleared my throat. “Okay, I really need to pack. The food should be all right with me gone. Marnie’s following my menu.” I started walking away, not knowing what else to say, until he interrupted me.
“You know, when I was making that CD for you in London, I put the best songs on it that we listened to that night,” he said.
“It was a lot of songs,” I squeaked out.
“It was. So, I had to cull it. I picked out the most fitting ones.”
“Oasis. ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger.’”
“You knew that already. Counting Crows, too.”
“Which one? We listened to a few, I think. ‘Anna Begins’?”
“Definitely. And Guster. ‘Rocketship.’”
I closed my eyes, feeling the nonexistent music for a moment. “2007. But those were older songs, even for then.”
“It was our soundtrack.”
“I need to go, Kyle,” I said. I turned from him again and then turned back, giving him an awkward and unexpected hug. Even outside in the snow, there was such a difference in him compared to Heath. Heath smelled exactly like you expected him to—the pine-scented deodorant, maybe Old Spice, a touch of hair gel, some fairly neutral aftershave. Clean, manly, strong. Kyle was more of a mess. Sweat from running late to class or taking his goalie through reps at practice, coffee that he had guzzled all day and perhaps spilled on himself, cookies from the crumbs still stuck to his clothes. Cookies that I had made. “I’ll see you in a few days,” I grunted, pulling myself away and running back to Wentworth.
...
The last time I traveled with anyone was in 2007 when I flew back to Boston from Washington DC with the students from my semester there. I hadn’t connected particularly well with anyone from Norwell in my program and had spent much of my time shadowing event planners and cooks across the executive branch of the U.S. government. I remember sitting next to a guy on the plane who was droning on and on about how he wanted to be a lobbyist for the EPA after college, and I ended up crafting a makeshift whiskey sour with Jim Beam, two lemon wedges, and a sugar packet on the forty-five-minute flight as a coping mechanism.
Now, I found myself about to take off from Boston with Heath sitting next to me. The plane was still parked on the taxiway at Logan, but he had his earbuds in, and his eyes were already closed. It was early; he had picked me up at five in the morning for a seven-thirty departure. Still, I felt antsy; I wasn’t used to anyone else accompanying me on these trips to support David. And I couldn’t help but think how different it would be if Kyle was sitting next to me in row fourteen. He would likely be talking my ear off—even at this early hour—probably telling me a story about which president was the first to fly in an airplane. I need to remember to ask him who it was , I thought. I couldn’t shake him, even as we raced down the runway and ascended into the sky. As we broke through the clouds, Heath started snoring.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” the flight attendant asked me twenty minutes later once we had reached a safe cruising altitude.
“Jim Beam, two lemon wedges, sugar packet,” I recited. “I know it’s early.” I gestured to the snoring man next to me.
“Oh, I get it,” she said. “No judgment. I have one of those at home.” She swiped my credit card and handed me the ingredients for my concoction. “You think he wants anything?”
“Nah,” I answered. “I bet he’s okay.”
Almost seven hours later, we began our descent into LAX. I had watched two movies plus a holiday cookie-baking television show through the airline’s entertainment system, as well as drank two more of my weird cocktails. Heath’s body shook a few times, and he opened his eyes. “Hey,” he said with a yawn.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “We’ll be on the ground in ten minutes or so.”
He smacked his lips a few times. “You got any water?”
“Here,” I said, handing him a bottle from my bag. He had barely said anything at all throughout the day so far, but he was annoying the shit out of me.
“What do we do when we get there? Go to the beach?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “I’m here for work. Plus, we’re going to be in downtown LA at a Residence Inn close to where the Clippers play. Nowhere near the beach. I need to check into the hotel and check to make sure all the food is there.”
“They bring you the food?” Heath picked up a magazine out of the seat pocket and began flipping through it, and I wanted to grab it out of his big hands and maybe smack him on the top of his head with it, Dorothy-on- Golden-Girls -style. Heath had never irritated me before. Why now?
“Yes, I pay the hotel staff. Really, David’s mom does–and they stock the refrigerator and cabinets before I get there. Or they are supposed to. It doesn’t always work out perfectly. That’s why I go early enough to check, and then I can always run over to Whole Foods if necessary. David won’t get in with the team until late, but the staff at his hotel knows to expect me. I drop off something in his fridge for when he gets there, and then I go back tomorrow with what he needs before the game.”
“Pretty high maintenance,” Heath said, putting several pieces of gum into his mouth and then chewing loudly. What was this? It was like I was sitting next to a stranger.
“I’ve been working for wealthy people for a while now,” I said as evenly as I could. “I try not to judge and instead focus on doing what is needed to keep them happy.”
“Like that other client you had?” he asked with a laugh, and I could not believe my ears. Is he referring to Bentley Preston? He is!
“That had nothing to do with money,” I said, now seething. “How dare you bring him or that situation up! I don’t bring up women you’ve dated. That tobacco-chewing waitress sounded like a real catch.”
“Easy, easy,” he said. “Don’t get all weird on me.”
“I’m anything but weird,” I said, standing up after the flight attendant pressed the chime to signal it was time to deplane. “The only reason you’re here right now or going to a basketball game on the freaking floor is because of me.”
He put his hand on my lower back, and I flinched. I really didn’t want him touching me. “Sorry, Devon. I’m just tired. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Tired? You slept for almost seven hours!” I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment and walked down the aisle to the jet bridge, not caring if he joined me or not. Of course, he did.
Everything was ready for us at the hotel except for the tortillas for David’s steak wrap. The staff shopper had left rice paper wraps like someone would use to make spring rolls. We needed to go to the store.
“Can’t we just use these instead?” Heath asked, examining the package.
“They’ll fall apart. David doesn’t want a delicate appetizer. He wants steak and peppers and onions and provolone in a sturdy tortilla. Trust me.”
“That’s how it goes, right? Devon’s way or no way at all, huh?” Heath was already in his swim trunks and sunglasses, and I realized he wasn’t there to help me or be my partner in anything I was doing. He was taking his vacation in California, and that’s how he was treating the time. I had completely overestimated him.
“I don’t hop into an ambulance and tell people what to do. That’s your job, and this is mine,” I said. “Go to the pool. Enjoy yourself. I’m going to the grocery, and then I’m coming back and making David the late-night food he wants after a flight. And then I’m going over to the Ritz-Carlton and dropping everything off. I’ll probably get something to eat for myself after that. You’re welcome to go off on your own and do whatever. I don’t care.”
“I’m not sure who you are, but you’re not the fun Devon I knew back in New Hampshire,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I guess you’re seeing the real me,” I conceded. “Take it or leave it.” He didn’t say anything in response, so I grabbed my purse and the hotel key. “See you later,” I said, walking out the door and heading directly to the elevator. He didn’t try to stop me.