Chapter 14 #3
“I guess I just don’t know . . . why? I would love to understand,” I admit, punctuated by the far-off cry of a gull.
It’s only been two weeks since he first told me he was “no good for any of it,” but it’s also been so long since I took such an active, genuine interest in someone outside my own grief dome, and now that he’s in it with me, I feel insufferably nosy.
“I know why I’m not dating right now. Casual sex is off the table for the physical risks alone when I’m spending, at minimum, twenty-five grand on IVF.
And dating seriously would be unfair to someone else.
But you? You’re in your prime. You’re healthy.
You’ve got a great career, a beautiful home.
Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you’ve always been pro–casual sex?
” I’ve run into this man on dates before, in a neighboring town.
I’ve spotted him sharing morning-after pastries with women at Savvy’s, basking in the kind of afterglow that only great sex can bring.
He’s quiet for a full minute. I can’t tell if he’s contemplating or if he’s gone to sleep.
“I know you said you’re not in the headspace,” I tack on. “If I’m being invasive, I’ll drop it.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone since before the accident.”
That’s . . . going on two years. Even longer than I’ve gone.
I have to keep a tight leash on my face, but my heart starts doing something unwieldy in a way I cannot and should not acknowledge.
It’s illogical, anyway. Like the small piece of him that I’ve had is somehow a little more mine.
Ridiculous. Asinine. Borderline problematic.
Simultaneously, it devastates me to picture him lonely.
“I don’t think I’m built for long term, but the accident took some of the fun out of the short term for me, too.
Partly because getting naked in front of someone is slightly less fun for me, and .
. . and because meaningless sex still sounds like a great thing for other people, and I’m happy for them, but unfortunately, to me, now it just sounds meaningless. ”
“I understand that.”
“You do?” His laugh-sigh reverberates around the contained space. “That’s good. Wish I understood it a little better myself.”
“Well. When you get a sense for how fickle life is, I think it makes you want to focus on the relationships that count the most. Family, friends. Which I guess I need to make more of at some point.”
He rubs circles into a spot near his elbow. “Guess I probably should, too. Since my family are my only friends.”
We both sound so worn out by the prospect of it. So different from the gregarious, inviting people we once were.
“Hey. We’re friends, at least,” I say, voice going slippery with sleep again. “We count for something.”
He reaches over and pinches my chin like he can’t help himself, but his thumb lingers too long for it to be entirely friendly. My lips itch with the urge to turn and kiss it. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we count.”
Minutes pass, and our breathing synchronizes.
We let out a pair of vocal sighs at the same time and then chuckle lightly in acknowledgment.
Just as I feel myself nodding off, a high-pitched squealing rips through the air, followed by the long thump of a bass system working past its capacity.
We both sit up and look through the side window.
Parked at the far end of the lot, groups of teenagers spill out of two beat-up sedans.
They leave the doors flung open on one and their music volume on high, shouting and laughing over it.
By silent agreement, we watch them for a while.
The broad range in their interactions over the course of a few minutes is wild to behold.
There’s some dancing, flirtatious arm bumps, one boy hauling a girl over his shoulder and spinning her dizzy.
That same boy pairing off with another girl and walking down to the beach.
One girl cries, sitting in the passenger seat, friends gathering at her feet and trying to comfort her.
Everything seems urgent for them. Everything sounds like a big deal with the way their voices rise and carry.
“They think they know it all, don’t they?” says Silas wistfully.
“We did when we were their age, that’s for sure,” I say, a memory shooting through my mind like one of the stars above us. “We can only hope they learn from the bleach-tipped generations of the past.”
He snorts, closer to me than I realized, his breath warming the shell of my ear. “First of all, I was in middle school when I had those. Secondly, do you want me to bring up the slouchy beanies and heavy side bangs era?”
“Low blow, sir.”
“Calling me sir will only encourage me to fight dirty, Red, I can promise you that.”
It’s a combination of the nighttime and the mere inches between us, I think, but the way his deep tone gets textured . . . my thoughts do such an abrupt about-face that I gulp audibly. That’s exactly what he’d be like in bed now. Bossy. In control. I bet we’d fight for it and like it.
Stop it, Bea.
The bass and music do a great, harsh boom before they blow out, like a manifestation of my thought patterns. The teens’ collective groans ride over on the wind.
Silas lets out an involuntary laugh. “Do you remember when Ian and I had to drive out to Newport to zip-tie your bumper back onto the Corolla for you?”
An ugly cackle from me. “Oh god. Yeah, I do.” I had just gotten my license, and Merritt had convinced me to ditch school for the first time to meet some football player she liked and his buddies.
The windows and sunroof were wide open, and “Wrecking Ball” was on blast and on repeat.
We’d gotten a little too into the chorus, slamming our fists on the dashboard and scream-singing our hearts out, and I’d gone and slammed “Cori” into a curb.
We were an hour and a half away at this point and Merritt’s guy wasn’t picking up, so I’d suggested the only other friends we were close enough to who might know how to fix the car so we could get home.
I’d shut down and gone into silent mode while we waited. I didn’t blame Merritt, exactly—I knew I’d been the one driving—but she’d worked so hard to convince me to ditch in the first place, and I was pissed at myself for caving.
“Come on, BB, it’s not that bad,” she’d said. I’d only given her a scathing look from my spot on the side of the road, while she’d paced back and forth in front of me. My bumper was hanging off at an angle and fully touching the ground, scuffed black and dented.
“I’m completely dead, Mer. You know I am fucking dead. I won’t be allowed to leave the house for a month.”
“Well, that’s just stupid. We didn’t even do anything that bad.”
“Jesus Christ, Merritt! We ditched school! To meet up with some guys. This was stupid!”
“It’s a rite of passage!” she’d screamed, foot stomping, hands in the air and flailing. “We were just being girls!”