Chapter 24
brASILITO, COSTA RICA
AUGUST 5, 2014
AGE: 28
IWAS HEADING BACK TO MY ROOM WHEN I SPOTTED MY PARENTS BY THE pool, reading and drinking Pi?a Coladas. My dad was in one of his signature Hawaiian shirts. My mom put down her magazine and waved me over.
“So?” she cawed.
“So what?” I asked.
“You spent a long time chatting with Alex Stone. You must tell me everything!”
My mom and dad had nicknamed me “the CIA operative” and given up on me proffering any information about my romantic life long ago. But things were different here and now. My mom was behaving as if we were best friends with no secrets between us. It felt weird, but also nice. I could just share what was on my mind. It was so much easier than editing out any details that she might use against me.
“He’s incredibly cute,” I told her.
“‘Handsome’ is the word I’d use,” my mom said.
“And I hear he’s not broke,” my dad chimed in without looking up from his thriller.
“Dad!” I said.
“Well, Sean wasn’t broke either,” my mother said.
“She has a type,” my dad said.
I had a type? And it was... rich guys?
“Find a fellow I can jam with, Jenny,” said my dad. He’d taken up guitar a few years before my brother’s wedding and had since amassed an impressive collection of instruments, both acoustic and electric.
“I don’t know if Alex plays guitar, but he was very sweet, for a friend of Andrew’s,” I said, trailing off when I noticed another man in a Hawaiian shirt walking past the pool. I squinted, trying to get a better view. Was the sun in my eyes playing tricks on me? Nope. It was Gabe again. Why did my subconscious keep doing this?
“You all right?” my mom asked.
“I think I know that guy,” I said, reaching for my sunglasses. “He looks exactly like an old friend.”
“Emphasis on old.” This was coming from my father.
Only five years older than me—and a musician. Maybe Gabe was the jam partner of my dad’s dreams. I said nothing.
“Not only is he old, but he’s married,” said my mother, pointing toward a strawberry blonde sprawled in a hammock and flirting with a surfing instructor. She was the Nicole Kidman look-alike I’d seen in the Pathetic section of my Memo app.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Your mother knows everybody at this hotel already, even the people who aren’t involved in her wedding,” my dad said.
“Andrew’s wedding,” I corrected him.
“If you saw the bill you’d think it’s fair to say it’s ours.” My dad snorted.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. There had to be a reason why Gabe kept dropping into my do-overs. I needed to talk to him—and before his next death.
I chased after him down an immaculately landscaped path to the front entrance of the hotel. I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached a van painted with giant green leaves and macaws. It was idling in front of a sign that read Cloud Forest Hike. I could see Gabe’s back as he entered the vehicle.
“Gabe!” I shouted. He turned around, looking confused.
“Hi,” I said breathlessly. Moving slowly so as not to scare him off, I came a bit closer. “Remember me?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Maybe? Did you once audition as a vocalist for my band?”
I shook my head. “Well, I do sing, but that’s not it.”
For a split second his eyes clicked into mine. But then the vehicle honked, and he looked half-relieved. “I gotta go... I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jenny,” I told him.
“Jenny,” the younger, thicker-haired Gabe repeated with a smile. “To be continued,” he said, then climbed onboard. I stared as the van wheeled away. It didn’t make the turn at the end of the road. Instead, it sliced through a thicket of vegetation and plummeted off a cliff. This was followed by an ear-splitting explosive sound. A cloud of smoke wafted over the horizon.
“There she goes again,” a voice called from overhead. Desiree was perched in a tree. “What is wrong with you, Jenny? Didn’t you just meet Alex?”
“Yes, but... what the hell just happened to Gabe? Is he okay?”
“That was all a mirage, a manifestation of your own making. He’s living his best life back in Pittsburgh, making sweet, sweet love to his cheating wife. You need to stop with the Gabe nonsense. Get going. You have a wedding to get ready for.”
ANDREW’S WEDDING WAS A PERFECT SUNSET-ON-THE-BEACH AFFAIR. The bride, Jacqueline, was a slender vision in a column gown with a delicate rosette on the back, her hair in a loose chignon. My mom sobbed at the end of the ceremony, her cries drowning out the melodies of the string quartet. This time, I was the one who caught the bouquet—not one of my sister-in-law’s bridesmaids.
The reception dinner was slightly different than it had been in reality. I wasn’t seated with my parents, as I, their falling-through-the-cracks daughter, had been previously. I didn’t get to sit with my friends, either, which was a bummer. Then again, it was probably for the best because the signature tamarind cocktails were so delicious that I was on my third; if I were with my friends, I might have slipped up and regaled them with tales from the future. Instead, I shared a table with Jacqueline’s bridesmaids—all of whom were her sorority sisters from the University of Arizona—and their dates. The men were talking about golf and skiing and the women were ignoring their crab cakes and debating whether balsamic vinegar was too sugary to be considered healthy.
When it was time for me to give a toast, I spoke far more graciously than at Andrew’s other wedding. In my non-Memo life, I’d congratulated “Jacko” on marrying “a prince—and I mean that in a Machiavellian way,” which had failed to generate the laughter I had been hoping for. I didn’t understand this couple, and it showed.
Now, though, I was a veritable toastmaster. “You are one lucky guy,” I said, locking eyes with my brother. “The first time I met your new girlfriend, and learned that this beautiful, brilliant, athletic creature also liked golfing and spearfishing, I thought there was no way you’d manage to keep her. The next time I saw you, I remember learning that she shared your fondness for blue-cheese sauce on pizza—which, ladies and gentlemen, we all can admit is disgusting.” The crowd broke into howls now even though what I was saying was not very funny. But now I was the type of person who didn’t have to even be funny to get people to laugh. Such was the power of popularity.
When I picked up again, my tone took a more serious turn. “Like blue-cheese sauce on pizza, this pairing was admittedly one I didn’t understand at first.” I paused. “It seemed scary, too good to be true. I feared for your eventual heartbreak, Andrew. Here was the perfect woman for you, and it terrified me. I remember how your voice cracked when you told me how much you loved her.” I took another beat, so everyone could make the appropriate cooing sounds. As if on cue, a single tear streamed down my cheek.
I caught sight of Alex seated at a table with my brother’s friends. We exchanged a smile, and I almost forgot that I was in the middle of a speech. “Andrew,” I went on, “you’ve changed as a brother and as a man. You are a responsible, kind adult. You no longer leave the toilet seat up. You even have a lawyer!” I watched Alex double over in laughter. “I am so proud of you, Andy. And I’m even more proud to call you my sister-in-law, Jacqueline.”
As I walked off the stage, the air filled with applause and dog whistles. One of the sorority sisters was crying when I came back to the table. I touched her hand and glanced across the room at my real friends, but they were too busy talking to their tablemates, a bunch of Andrew’s friends from business school. I tried not to let myself feel too disappointed. I brightened a few minutes later when I saw Alex making his approach. He looked so gorgeous in his tuxedo, like a modern-day Paul Newman.
“You sure clean up nice,” I said.
“I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you all night,” he replied. “You’re not going to go back to giving me the brush-off, like you did back in New York?”
“Never in a million years.” I let him pull me by the arm onto the dance floor. Alex proceeded to surprise me with his moves. He was energetic and fun. We were still dancing well after midnight, only now he was holding me close and barely moving at all.
“Meant to be,” Leigh whispered into my ear as she glided by in a sleek pink tuxedo.
When the wedding party left, Alex invited me for a drink at Sol 311, the only bar in town. Of course I said yes. He was too good to be true—as opposed to the guy who I saw seated down the bar. There he was, a younger version of Hal chatting up Bevin, the chief balsamic vinegar skeptic. She appeared to be quite wasted, which was not surprising given that I didn’t see her consume anything the entire evening except for Vodka Sodas. Hal was tilting his head ever so slightly and pretending to listen to his conversation partner before going on one of his monologues. It’s funny how qualities you once found charming in a person can become horribly annoying with the passage—or, in this case, the reversal—of time.
Alex, meanwhile, was truly listening to me. I found myself telling him things about my relationship with my brother I wasn’t sure I’d ever said aloud before.
“We’ve had a lot of ups and downs. My parents used to favor him, and he never threw me a lifeline when I was in trouble.”
Alex looked concerned. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”
“Oh, nothing important. All stuff that happened a lifetime ago,” I said, waving my hand in the air. After all, the trouble I was referring to didn’t occur a lifetime ago, but in a completely different lifetime. “It’s really on me to get over it,” I told him. “I should warn you. I can be very petty.”
Alex rested his hand on my arm. “You’re not petty. You’re pretty.”
His words hit me hard. “You know what? So are you.”
Just when I thought he was about to kiss me, I realized I needed to use the bathroom, and excused myself. I couldn’t resist drifting within earshot of Hal. He was railing against “the aesthetic imbalance,” whatever that meant.
“You’re enjoying yourself?” asked the woman in line behind me at the door to the ladies room. Her again. I turned to face Desiree.
“You climbed out of your tree?” I replied.
She smiled conspiratorially, then pointed at Hal and Bevin. “That could be you, Jenny, fawning over a future Pittsburgh pauper.”
A gaggle of women spilled out of the bathroom, and Desiree stepped in alongside me. The reflection in the mirror was shocking. My clavicle was jutting out from my blush-colored one-shoulder dress. Jacqueline’s sorority sisters and I could have been quadruplets.
“You stuck with the kickboxing,” Desiree said approvingly. “And yoga and a new fitness thing called Scream, where you run around in circles naked in a 110-degree room. Absolute hell, but it does wonders for the lymphatic system.”
“Do I still... bake?” I asked.
“Sometimes, when you’re on camera. Truth be told, you’ve been gluten-free since 2012! On the down-low, of course. You’re more likeable when you’re cramming a baguette into that adorable face.” She squeezed my cheeks a little too hard.
“If you say so,” I muttered as I dipped into the stall. I tried to remember the last thing I’d baked back in my real life. Cheddar and dill scones. They’d been perfectly flaky, with a kick of pepper. Strangely, my mouth wasn’t watering at the memory of them.
“You no longer need to eat your feelings,” Desiree called out to me. “Tastes marvelous, doesn’t it? Now go back out there and sit next to the right guy.”
“I wasn’t planning on running away,” I said. “Trust me.”
When I returned to the bar, Alex pulled out the stool next to him. “It’s getting cooler,” he told me and draped his jacket over my shoulders. “While I was waiting for you, I had a vision.”
“One of your famous flashes?” I teased him.
“More like a feeling. I know we practically just met, but I have a strong sense this night is going to be consequential. For us both.” Alex smiled at me and leaned in a little closer. “I have something for you.” He reached into the pocket of the jacket and pulled out a piece of ruby-red sea glass. “I found it on the beach, right after we met.”
“It’s stunning,” I told him. “Thank you.”
“Not yet,” he said, pulling it away as I reached for it. “I’m going to hold on to it and give it to you another time. To make sure I see you again.”
And then he kissed me ever so gently. His lips were soft as petals. I pulled him in closer, my body lighting up with desire. The pressure of Alex’s lips on mine intensified. This guy sure knew what he was doing.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Alex asked. I nodded, breathless.
We got up and headed for the exit. I was trailing slightly behind him. Before we reached the door, Desiree emerged and yanked me off course. “Good work, Jenny.”
“Please let me go,” I said, trying to shake free. “I’m not done here.”
“Oh yes you are. This is headed exactly where you imagine it is. We need to leapfrog ahead. That’s a requirement, not a request.”
Alex turned around to scan the room. His expression was hopeful, a little vulnerable. “Please, please? Can I just see this night through?” I asked Desiree. “Your timing here could be a whole lot better.”
“Exactly. It’s time to visit 2016. Don’t worry, petunia. Alex Stone isn’t going anywhere.”