Fresh Air #2
“Don’t I know it.” Kate sounds like she’s grinning. “Now I’ll see you soon, okay? Fake sick with Hannah or something. I’ll stall the other applicants until you get here.” I begin to protest, but Kate talks over me. “Okayyy, I’ll see you soooon, kayyy, love you byeeeeee.”
The phone clicks, and I stare at the black void of the screen.
My heart hammers wildly, and I peek out the curtain at Autumn & June’s storefront. Everything seems… fine? There are a few customers already trickling in, and one of our teenage employees assists them. Surely they can survive for a few hours.
I spot Hannah near the register, fingers flying across her computer.
Guilt weighs down on me, hot and thick like a stifling blanket.
I can’t do this. I don’t leave friends hanging. Not when I owe them so much.
I’ve just returned to my lit backdrop when another thought bubble pops.
If I don’t go to the interview, will I be letting Kate down? Kate went out on a limb for me, and she sounded so excited. I also can’t deny the incriminating flutters in my belly.
Eyeing the fresh shipment of un-photographed items, I decide I can always stay late once I get back to get them uploaded to the website before tomorrow.
Slipping out the back door, I text a quick message to Hannah to let her know I’m taking a very early lunch.
I tell myself that if I don’t get this position, Hannah never needs to know about this interview. Period.
I pull up short a few feet away, then dash back inside to snatch my pumpkin spice latte and an interview-ready suede blazer from one of the shipment boxes. I’ll pay for it later. I’m off and driving in seconds, forgotten billy-goat chin hair wafting and all.
Thankfully, the traffic thinned out enough for me to make it to the Chicago Legacy Art Museum in record time. I plow my arms through the sleeves of Autumn & June’s suede blazer, cringing at how much hotter I’m going to feel because of it. I smooth down my chin-length copper strands as I run.
My breath hitches as I approach the front of the museum. Sitting squarely on a busy corner, three stories of shimmering limestone and blue glass panes stretch into the azure sky. Wide, sprawling steps stretch before me, making it hard for me to swallow.
I’ve only been back here once since the night of the street art exhibition gala last April. Seventeen long months ago.
Pain tightens my lungs as I try to stave off the memory of that bewildering conversation on the stairs with Tucker, my other childhood best friend who currently lives across the Atlantic in London. The same friend that I haven’t seen, aside from video chats, since that night.
The memory of Tucker’s furious exit from the gala washes over me for what feels like the millionth time.
The same confusion I felt chasing him down these same steps echoes in my belly.
For all I knew, he had been enjoying the exhibition upstairs while I managed a table in the lobby, gathering new social media followers for my marketing campaign.
“Tuck, wait!” I had called, snatching fistfuls of my hunter green silk gown as I ran. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Something had happened, I just didn’t have a clue what.
Tucker had stalled on the last step above the sidewalk.
He turned, faintly illuminated by the glow of the museum behind us.
His teak brown hair was messy on top, like he’d been running his hands through it.
I joined him on the last step, tentatively tugging the shoulder of his tuxedo jacket until he faced me.
With Tuck being only four inches taller than my five-foot-nine, I had a clear view of his conflicted expression even in the dark.
“What happened?” I asked, breathless.
“Do you love him, Jules?”
“What? Who, Dallas?”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand across his sandy brown stubble. “Is it love, do you think?”
I jerked a few nods before my mind could catch up. Of course I loved Dallas. Despite our complicated off-again-on-again relationship, I’d loved him since the ninth grade.
Tuck blew out a hard breath. “Then I’m happy for you, Jules. Really, I am.”
Worry clamped my stomach in half—I had never seen him like this. Tucker was the living epitome of happy-go-lucky, a man who craved adventure.
“What’s going on, Tuck?” I whispered.
“EcoSphere just called. They want to purchase the aftermarket manifold tech I designed.”
I sputtered my congratulations, my confused gaze darting between his hazel eyes and the haunted expression residing there. What did his hard work paying off with EcoSphere have to do with me loving Dallas?
“That’s amazing, Tuck!” I said. “I knew you could do it. So what, are you gonna be rich now, or something?”
He bypassed my joke with a wave of his hand. “They want me on their team, Jules. EcoSphere is in London.”
The words felt like a physical punch. “You’re leaving?”
His gaze held mine for a long moment. “Yeah. I think I might be.”
Panic rose in my throat, like a cry trapped. I forced a wobbly smile. Tuck couldn’t leave. He just couldn’t. Breath continued to squeeze around the frozen lump, and I rubbed the silk of my dress to ground me.
“Then,” I whispered. “I’m happy for you too, I guess.”
At the sight of what must have been my poorly-hidden sadness, Tuck seemed to balk, seemed to regret the notion of leaving. But what he did next was so uncharacteristic, even for someone as innately flirty as Tucker.
He kissed me.
Well, it was a chaste kiss to my cheek before he stepped away, but it gobsmacked me.
My fingers flew to the spot, to the warmth lingering there in the chilly night. The scratch of his stubble, his pinewood scent being that close… While Tuck had always been a touchy-feely guy, this display of affection felt… different. I swear there was a sheen across his hazel eyes.
“I’ll see you around, Jules.”
Then, he was gone.
The memory makes me clutch my stomach even now.
While I was happy for him, still am, nothing could have prepared me for these last seventeen months.
The term “drifting apart” sounds too peaceful.
No, losing a part of your other half feels like a portion of your soul disintegrating.
My sensitive heart squeezes, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek.
I remind myself that Tuck is where he’s supposed to be.
Where he wants to be.
And I am here, happily engaged to my high school sweetheart, living the life I’ve always planned for.