81 Rhys
81
Rhys
Logan’s plane landed in the afternoon, just as it was starting to get dark. I could hardly recognize him after a year and a half. I hadn’t seen him since I was in LA with Alexa to launch the track we made together. Now, Logan was getting gray hairs, and his clothing was more…formal, elegant. He looked like a real-life lawyer, not the laid-back guy I used to know.
We gave each other each a hug.
“Sunny out here, huh?” he said, smiling.
“Not as much in wintertime as you’d think. Let’s go.”
He dropped his suitcase at the apartment, and we went out to have a drink and catch up. He was only supposed to stay for three days, enough for just a bit of R and R. All that work was getting to him. He’d gone from a tiny office in LA to a big firm in New York, and now he was a partner at another one. He looked tired, a little scattered, but still…there was something different in his eyes, something I didn’t recognize from before. A glimmer.
“What about you? You haven’t changed a bit.”
I didn’t like that. What did it mean? That I was stagnant, comfortable, stuck in a routine? I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable, and took a sip of my second beer. Logan glanced at his phone before putting it back into the pocket of his khakis. He was wearing a designer belt. I’d never known him to be into things like that.
“There are some changes. I’m about to record an album. I think I told you that over the phone. I’ve got a gig set up for next summer. So everything’s moving along.”
“No more life on the road then?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. You always used to be going from one place to the next. But it wears a person out. I don’t know how you kept it up. Anyway, this place is great. It’s not even spring yet, and the temperature’s amazing.”
I tore the label off my beer. “I’ve just let life guide me. I’d have been perfectly happy to go if they’d offered me a job somewhere else.”
“It’s cool, Rhys. I get it.”
“Get what?” I asked.
“You’re not a spring chicken, bud.” He laughed, drank, and sighed. “Twenty’s not the same as thirty, you know? Things inevitably change with time.”
I shrugged and looked at him. “Why’d you change?”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about…” Logan rested his arms on the table.
“What’s up? Something wrong?”
“Nah. The opposite. I’m getting married, Rhys.”
I stared at him, pensive. “Wow. Congrats. Good job.”
“Yeah. So another thing: you know the bride.”
“For real? Is it someone from Tennessee?”
“No. You remember Sarah?” Logan sighed, uncomfortable, took a sip of beer, and drew a breath. “You used to have a thing with her on and off. Y’all shared an apartment in LA for a while. Years back. One day she got mad when she saw some emails from another chick and asked me if she could stay at my place. We saw more and more of each other, especially once I moved to New York…”
“I remember,” I cut him off. “Sarah. Yeah.”
“I don’t want this to be weird.”
“Why would it be?”
“You know. She was in love with you.”
“Yeah, but shit, that was years ago.”
“I know. But…” He gave me an uncertain look, then glanced away. “I wanted to tell you in person, because we decided not to invite you to the wedding. I’m sorry. I just think it would be uncomfortable. For me, especially. I can’t help it…”
It took me a few seconds to manage a response. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“Sure. I just didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”
“Are you serious?” He laughed.
“You know I hate weddings.”
Logan nodded and ordered another round of beers. I tried to stay in the moment the rest of the evening, but I didn’t do well at it. He talked about his firm, his life, the wedding, which would be at the end of summer, how he had immediately connected with Sarah, and I… I tried not to think of how I’d just lied to him, because I would have made an effort to go to the wedding of one of the few friends I’d ever really had, even if I wasn’t tempted by the song and dance, especially since the ceremony was going to take place in some pompous, stuffy place in New York.
I tried not to think of other things too.
Like that feeling that I was getting left behind. Getting lost in shadows while everyone else had managed to finally see the light. I thought about roots that didn’t exist. Anchors I couldn’t find. About how I had more and more contacts in my phone, but with every new one, my solitude grew. I thought about Ginger, about how she was climbing like a vine that wouldn’t stop growing, about how proud I felt of her and how disappointed she was in me. I could sense it. I could feel it. And I could tell I was also starting to rethink some of those paths I’d abandoned.
Like Sarah. What would my life have been like if we’d gone further and I hadn’t pushed her away? I imagined us married by now, living in the big city with a kid, maybe with a second one on the way. Who knew? My entire existence was loose threads, possibilities I’d never let turn into something more.
Except for Ginger. That was one thread that was still there, still growing. And I knew I’d never be able to let it go. The same went for my mother. That was a thin connection, but a stable one.
And that was about it. And yet, funny enough, I was the one who’d cut people off, as though a part of myself had been fleeing company, friendship, love, everything good about existence. Maybe I had been looking for sorrow, solitude, unhappiness. Maybe I was even chasing them.