Chapter Thirty
thirty
hope
I’m not a runner. I don’t take spin classes or do yoga. But I do love walks on the beach. Salt or fresh—the waters of my life have ebbed and flowed—but the shoreline remains a constant. Dark brown palm fronds are scattered across the sand, the only trace of the recent storm. Beach cleanup was a big endeavor, and last night I fell into bed exhausted.
This morning the wind is clean and fresh, and I’m filled with a sense of renewal that has nothing to do with the waterside and everything to do with Adrian. I wonder if lifting weights has become a way to clear his head, like these beach walks for me, or paddleboarding for Zuri, who’s currently awaiting my long-overdue call to catch up.
Reconciling with Adrian felt like the perfect choice at the time, and I don’t regret my decision for a moment, but everything is so new and tender—mere days stacked against years of separation, that I’m desperate for Zuri’s take—for validation that I’m not losing my mind in losing my heart to Adrian again.
I’m hoping to catch her in the small window after she drops her kids off with her aunt for the day and before she gets caught up in whatever crisis awaits her on a busy summer morning.
The rhythmic roll of gentle waves against my ankles hasn’t settled my uncharacteristic nerves about the call, but Zuri’s unconventional, “Is he our friend or foe?” greeting has me smiling. She’s my best friend. Whatever happens—is happening—with Adrian, she’s got my back. And truly, I’m excited to share the news. Tentatively excited. Honestly, I could use reassurance that I’m not malfunctioning with how right this feels.
While I’m working out my reply, she keeps digging. “I mean, last I heard he saved you from a hurricane—”
“Tropical storm. To qualify as a hurricane, wind gusts have to exceed—”
“We’re saying the same thing.” Her brush-off has me chuckling. “I need to know if your friendship survived the storm.” The jangle of keys comes through the phone, and Zuri’s voice is muffled for a moment. “Because a few weeks ago you were ranting about a deep yearning to throw him overboard.”
“I never said that.” Not explicitly.
“It was the general vibe of your texts. That, and ‘my ex is too hot for his own good.’”
“ My own good,” I clarify. “Being sexy is not cramping his style whatsoever. And also—” I cast a glance toward the horizon, lip caught between my teeth “—he’s not my ex. Currently.”
“Not your ex,” she repeats. “Currently.” Not a question, but delivered with the implicit expectation that I explain myself.
I oblige, letting the gentle pull of the waves lead me a few steps into the water. “We talked, after the storm.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “Talked, huh?”
“Yes, talked.” My cheeks are blistering, and the sun’s not even up. She’s jumped into teasing me with all the gusto of a middle-aged dad cannonballing off a springboard. I’ll have to remember this when she decides to venture into the dating pool again.
“Okay.” Zuri stretches out the word, humoring me. “And during this talk , what happened?” I don’t need to be in the same room as her to detect the air quotes she puts around the word talk , but I take the chance to get to the heart of what I called about.
“Things got pretty serious.” I recall the heaviness of the moment, before he took my hands in his. The years of uncertainty, on both our parts. “I mean, this is not just any guy. This is Adrian. We dated for almost six years. So starting over feels seriously high-stakes.”
Wind cuts through the speaker, like she’s walking outside. “That’s what you’re doing? Starting over?” Her tone gives nothing away.
“Yeah, it is. We both agreed it’s what we want. What we’ve wanted, for a long time.” Sand shifts under my feet and I walk backward to firmer ground. “I know it’s the opposite of what I came down here for, and maybe it shouldn’t feel this way, but, Zuri, it feels right.” Putting my trust in feelings is new, but putting my trust in Adrian is not, and I’m holding tight to that.
She’s silent for a long moment, and when I can’t take it anymore, which is probably about three seconds, I ask, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering what changed. You were adamant you couldn’t adjust your life for him, for anyone, and you don’t even know where you’re headed in the fall.”
All of that is true, except one thing. “My heart changed. I realized that the only thing holding me back was my doubts, not Adrian. Three years ago, he was willing to move to be with me near whichever PhD program I chose. He didn’t try to steer my choices, or confine me.”
“But now he’s an assistant professor. He runs that channel with Marissa, and her job is there.”
I was nervous to tell Zuri all this, but part of me really thought she’d be happy for me. “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt. To make sure you’re thinking this through.” Fear prickles inside me. Worries that love was muddling my decision-making is what I struggled with last time, and now, when I thought I went in with my eyes wide open, she’s accusing me of my worst fear.
“That’s in the future,” I protest. “We just started dating again.”
“But when it comes down to it, what if he doesn’t want to come to you? Are you willing to compromise, and go to him? Or will it always be him making the concession, until he starts to resent you?” It’s as if she’s seen inside my heart and exposed everything that made me doubt.
But this time, I’m choosing to believe that we can make different choices. That we can make a future together. “I don’t know yet how it will work,” I admit. “All I know is I spent three years without him, and it didn’t make me happier. It didn’t feel like freedom.” Saying this aloud strengthens my resolve that this is the right choice. “I’m at my best when we’re together, and I trust us enough to find a way.”
“Then I’m happy for you.” Zuri’s approval comes through crystal clear, though I’m having trouble believing I heard her right until she adds, “Really, truly, incredibly happy for you.”
I throw my arm up in the air. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’?”
“What was all the getting-inside-my-head questions like you were the psychiatrist from my nightmares?”
She cackles, the fiend. “That was me checking in on you. What else are friends for?”
“Um, to be supportive?”
“I am, now that I know you’re making a good decision.” Zuri is the best kind of friend, honest enough to trust when she tells me what I want to hear.
I blow out a breath, relaxing as iridescent waves curl against my bare toes. “So you think this is good? It’s honestly impossible to be objective in this situation.”
“What you had with Adrian was special. I know you two were going through some tough times, but if you hadn’t stayed here...” Her voice slips, like she lost her footing on a patch of ice. But she recovers quickly, in the agile way she has, and my heart breaks that she’s had to develop that ability. “Let’s just say if I thought he was no good, I never would’ve encouraged you to take the job.”
“By encouraged, you mean fired me so my hands were tied?”
She murmurs noncommittally before clearing her throat. “I know I haven’t been in a relationship since...since losing Eric, so maybe I’m not the most qualified...” She trails off again, and I want to jump in and reassure her, but I can tell it’s important for her to say this. “But he and I did make it through a lot together. And one thing I learned is you can’t move forward if you don’t accept and acknowledge the past. And it sounds like you’ve both done that.”
We have, but things are shaky and new and not ready for any test. But we have another month of summer. Another month of days spent working together and nights we can spend remembering what we love most about each other. Shoring up the pieces of our relationship with newly-discovered connections. “It’s freaking terrifying, Zuri. But I want this. I want to try.”
“Trying is good,” she says. “In fact, I think it’s incredible. You’re brave to give each other a second chance.” Her voice cracks, and I know she’s thinking of Eric, of true love. Real love, the kind I never thought existed until I met Adrian.
The beachgoers around me come to a halt, many of them with phones aloft, and I turn back toward the horizon just in time. The sun dislodges itself from the cocoon of the ocean, begins its bright ascent into the sky.
I inhale, filling my lungs with salt-scented air.
“I always thought that to succeed in my career, I couldn’t be in a relationship. And I never had to confront that fear until we were about to move in together. But I’ve come to realize I made a lot of false assumptions. Now I want to have both.”
“You deserve both,” Zuri says. “And from the looks of your recent videos, you’re crushing your career goals.”
My cheeks flame all over again. “Not you too.”
“Oh yes, me too. Me and the kids love watching them. They make me check for new content every morning.”
The reminder that people back home are watching pierces through the fog of my happiness. I don’t know how Adrian handles the exposure, but I’m glad that so far, I haven’t embarrassed myself. “I’ll make sure to tell Gabe he’d better pick up the pace on editing so the kids don’t have to wait so long for new content.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Well, yeah—”
“Sorry, not you.” She lets out an irritated huff. “My cashier for the day just texted that she’s sick, but I’m supposed to lead the morning kayak tour. I’m going to have to let you go so I can work on finding someone to cover her shift.”
“Maybe I should rethink the move,” I say, teasing, though I do often wish I could be in two places at once.
“Don’t even joke, Evans. You’re right where you need to be. And besides, Seth called dibs on your room.”
We end the call with promises to talk soon, but her words stay with me as I pocket my phone and sidestep a terrier who’s pulling on its leash in an attempt to get at the sandpipers darting along the waterline. Chats with Zuri always leave me both comforted and challenged. She’s like a motivational speaker and fairy godmother rolled into one and I am one hundred percent lucky to have her.
The sky is a lush blend of pink and orange and peach, like sherbet ready to be scooped and I can’t resist snapping a photo, even though my phone does the colors no justice. I text it to Zuri, a small offering of my day, a visual “wish you were here,” no words required.
Once it’s sent, I realize this is the kind of thing I used to do with Adrian all the time but stopped once I moved to Michigan. At first it was grief, but then it was resentment. It felt disingenuous, and I didn’t want to try to push past that feeling or talk through it with him. But now I do. I want to let him know I’m thinking of him, carrying him with me, wherever I go.
Raising the phone again, in selfie mode this time, I pivot until the sun is visible over my shoulder. I shrug a few times, arm flapping in a motion reminiscent of an irate pelican, until the neck of the hoodie falls off my shoulder to reveal the strappy ties of my swimsuit. It feels weird to pose for a solo selfie in public, but that’s a me thing. Beach selfies are so ubiquitous, no one spares me a glance.
I turn on the camera and wave, trying to pretend the hair in my face is alluring, not a windblown mess that has me wishing I’d grabbed a hair tie. I consider blowing a kiss, but that’s something I’ve never done in my life and Adrian would probably think I’d been abducted. I end the recording and send the clip to Adrian before embarrassment stops me.
I’m here, thinking of him. And I want him to know that. A moment later, my phone vibrates. Heart pounding irrationally, I read the text.
Adrian: Best. Sunrise Ever.
Affection fills me, steaming chamomile tea poured to the brim. So simple. So easy. And yet I’d stopped trying. I thought it was easier to close myself off, but it didn’t stop me from being hurt or from losing him.
He means so much to me, and I want him to know that, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I want to try again. I want us to succeed. I want that life-changing, heart-on-the-line love we once had. It will be a long journey to get there, but this is a start.
Hope: Would be better with you here.
Adrian: Give me ten.
Another notification appears, obscuring his text. I move my thumb to flick it away, then freeze, sunrise forgotten. An email in response to my application to the California white shark research internship.
Subject: Internship Interview
Greetings Hope,
Thank you for your interest in the great white shark research program internship. We would like to continue to the next stage of the process and invite you to participate in an interview next Wednesday, July 31. If you no longer wish to be considered for this program, please let us know as soon as possible.
I continue reading, eyes scanning the email, but my mind goes immediately to Adrian. He doesn’t even know I applied. Whether I get this job or not, I don’t know where I’ll end up next year. My future has always been fluid—water and waves—and I’m worried Adrian needs me to be stone.