Chapter Twenty-Seven
Stephen
I wasn’t sure what it meant that whenever I went on a fact-finding mission with Elle, I ended up needing a long run the following day to sort my head out.
It didn’t even help any more. Perhaps next time I’d ask Patrick from work to join me, so that I could stop my mind churning over everything, with no one to talk to about it.
I could hardly ring Nick up and put him in the middle of it all.
The journey back on the train from Coney Island had felt longer than the way there, and that was no small feat, because I hadn’t been looking forward to going at all.
But the ride back on that D train to Brooklyn was torture.
Thank God Elle and I weren’t forced to cosy up together because it was crowded.
With the hour being later, and it being a weeknight, the train was quieter, and we could each take a seat. Across from each other.
She’d made it clear the kiss was not a sign she’d ripped up her own rule book.
No matter how much I wanted to cross the aisle of the train and drag her up from the plastic orange seat to show her how differently I would go about it when I had all my faculties fully under control, I had to respect her wishes.
The memory of that kiss on the Wonder Wheel was like a dream I was grasping at, having been rudely awoken.
I’d been so panicked, so down the pit of terror, that I’d hardly registered what she was doing.
By the time I’d allowed the soft touch of her lips and the scent of her skin to filter in enough to distract me, she was gone, and the ride was over.
I’d never wished more that I wasn’t frightened of heights, so that I could have reacted in the way I truly wanted to and made the most of it.
Although, if I hadn’t been terrified out of my wits, she never would have kissed me in the first place.
She needed that excuse to cross the line she’d drawn and then run hastily back behind it again.
Fuelled by left over adrenalin, a massive helping of embarrassment and the feeling of being cheated out of enjoying something I’d admittedly been fantasising about for a long while, it could have been easy to let resentment build…
but she’d spent the first part of the journey with her arms crossed, staring out the window and by the time we’d changed trains she was looking tired and the corners of her mouth were dragging down.
I quickly became disabused of the notion that she was intentionally tormenting me.
Neither of us appeared to be enjoying this frustration.
The text she’d sent me after I’d seen her home and walked back to my own apartment only made it worse.
Elle: I’m sorry I forced you onto the wheel and then kissed you while you were defenseless. I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us. I just didn’t think. I was hoping that we were starting to be friends and I don’t want to have ruined that. Forgive me?
I didn’t want her to regret it. Well, no.
Forcing me onto the wheel, she could regret – but kissing me was something I wanted her to want and the fact that she didn’t, and she just wanted to be friends left me feeling…
what was the feeling? Usually I could deal with a woman not wanting me, because I knew it wasn’t the end of the world – eventually we would have gone our separate ways.
But with Elle I was so keenly aware of the fact that she was attracted to me – I wasn’t an idiot despite her not wanting to admit it out loud – yet it was undeniable that she didn’t want to be.
Any attraction to me was taking place against her will and better judgement, and I could hardly blame her for that.
Maybe I was finding it hard because I was simultaneously trying to find my father.
There were so many things going around my head.
This slow reveal of who he really was. The places he’d been, the people he’d known, the impressions he’d left.
Charming, a hit with the ladies, a lover of peanut butter, and, of course, he looked just like me.
It could have been me they were describing, from those bare details.
A man just like me who’d left me behind.
My past and my future, some vicious cycle I was trapped in.
At work they were already labelling me that way.
Nick was five years younger and thinking about getting married.
Where was this trail going to lead me? What kind of man would I be faced with when I got to the end of it and was that the same person I would become if I kept up this life of never committing and putting on a charismatic front?
It was no real surprise Elle only wanted to be friends with me.
It was a sensible decision. A generous decision, given the circumstances.
After all, I spent half my time proving her right that I could not turn the flirtatiousness off and the other half snapping at her because I was anxious. Or having a full blown panic attack.
Between telling her to shut up on the wheel while I hyperventilated, and cornering her after we got off, that outing had not been my finest hour.
There was no denying I wanted her to throw out her rule book, but my immediate reaction to the kiss had been poor.
In a more self-aware corner of my psyche, I had to question whether I’d focussed so hard on her kissing me in order to deflect from the depths of my embarrassment at having fallen apart on the Ferris wheel in front of her. Dick move.
Me: Of course you’re forgiven. It wasn’t your fault. I should’ve told you. I know you wouldn’t have forced me onto the wheel if you’d known. You haven’t ruined anything. And I’m sorry too for coming on so strong afterwards. Will you accept my apology?
Her message came flying back to me straight away.
Elle: Yes! Consider it water under the bridge.
The water under our bridge was going to be a tsunami soon if we weren’t careful, but before I could respond, she sent another message through.
Elle: D’you want to head over to Brooklyn tomorrow?
Me: Let’s leave it until the weekend. Saturday morning if you’re free?
Elle: Actually, that’s perfect for me. I need to head over there anyway. Goodnight.
Me: Night.
Maybe if I couldn’t do romantic relationships, at least I could try to do this. I wanted to be a better person than came naturally and I supposed this summer was the perfect time to figure out if that was possible.