Chapter 47
Ella
Monday
“Remember the first day of school? First day of Senior year. My first day at that school,” Miles says.
He’s terribly trying to finish his sentence without laughing, and I know exactly which memory he’s recalling.
“You showed up late for the Principal’s lecture,” he says, “and walked in through the wrong door.”
“I had no idea they rearranged the room like that,” I state through laughter. “Oh, I was so embarrassed!” I remember.
“Your cheeks went red.”
“The whole senior class was looking at me!” I cry out.
“You stepped into the room right next to the Principal, as if you were a new teacher standing up to introduce herself.” Laughter spills into his words.
“And I had to apologize and walk down the aisle of chairs until I reached an empty seat at the back.”
I had been so embarrassed. It’s funny. What’s the time rule for when shame melts into humor?
“Back then, I didn’t know that was naturally you,” he adds, amused.
“Well,” I straighten up, trying to compose myself, “I’m a grown-up woman now.”
He looks at me, his green eyes half-closed and a slight smile on his lips. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
At this exact moment, I recognize the street we’re on. I passed by here yesterday. There’s a restaurant where I want us to have dinner tonight.
“We’re almost at the place. I want to offer you this dinner,” I demand. “To thank you for these last days and the tour around the city.”
I don’t know when I’ll see him again. I haven’t thought much about it. Miles will be here, and I’ll be miles away. Who knows when one of us will land on the other’s territory again? Maybe now we can preserve our friendship. Can we?
Miles smiles and asks where we’re stopping. I tell him it’s anonymous until we get there. And he still doesn’t hesitate to follow me.
“Mexican food!” I open my arms as we arrive at the restaurant terrace.
“I love this place!”
“I assumed you would.”
When I saw this restaurant yesterday, the idea of us having dinner here was instant. I thought it would make Miles happy.
“American-style tacos.” He points at the A-frame sign on the sidewalk. And I give a knowing smile at his joy.
We’re laughing, but our laughs get lost in the cheerful noise of the terrace.
We finally get to eat American-style tacos in a big city.
They’re not as hyped anymore; I would say sushi burritos have stolen their spotlight.
But Miles still has the same enthusiasm for them, and it’s honestly too funny to watch.
We’re sitting on the terrace under a standing outdoor heater, still looking at the menus the waiter brought us, talking about the potential business Miles could start with a taco food truck.
I take off my coat and glance down at my hands.
I’m about to remove my blue fingerless gloves and one of the three rings on my left hand is an engagement ring I haven’t told him about.
It makes no sense that I haven’t. I answered Bill’s call earlier, no problem for Miles to see it.
I walked back to him ready to casually tell him about everything — the love part of my life, the only part we haven’t asked each other about — and then I got interrupted.
I had no intention of hiding it, and yet here I am, hiding it.
It’s illogical. Senseless. Unreasonably stupid of me. I take the gloves off.
Miles doesn’t notice it.
It’s the first time in these three days that we’ve actually sat down together at a restaurant for a meal. Until now, we’ve been eating on the go, grabbing food from trucks, snacking as we walk, meeting before or after meals.
“I just—”
“There’s—”
“Oh,” he grins at the intersection of words, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to say that I’ve missed you.”
Miles is saying that he’s missed me. That these last few days have been hilarious and surprising in every way.
Then he says he needs to tell me something.
And I’m sure my heart stops. Because I think I know where this conversation is going.
And I can’t let him go on with his honesty without being completely honest and telling him first.
“I don’t want us to lose contact again,” he continues, slowly, looking into my eyes and meaning his words.
“I think you were the first girl I ever had real feelings for. I know we were young. But what I’m trying to say is that you were really important to me.
And I’m not even sure any girl after you made me feel the way you did about… ”
My heart feels tight. I don’t know what I’ve been doing. It just feels wrong. I can’t hide it from him. So, I interrupt him.
“I’m engaged.” I blurt out, so fast I’m not even sure it was perceptible.
I said it before he could say anything else in that sentence. His eyes widened. And I can’t tell what’s going through his mind in those long, suspended seconds of silence between us. But I know he’s surprised, that’s an emotion his face can’t hide.
“Miles…” I start, after no reaction from his side.
“You’re engaged?” he finally lets out.
“I am engaged.” I lift my hand slightly and slowly.
“I haven’t noticed that,” he says to the ring.
He seems to remain calm, composed, and my brain seems to forget how to string sentences together.
“I’m happy for you.” He calmly rests his hands on the table and finally meets my eyes. “Who is he?”
I stand still, motionless. “His name is Bill.” I pause. His facial expression changes, and I know he realizes it was the phone call I took earlier. “We’ve been dating for over two years.”
“So, how did you two meet?” he asks.
“I…” I hesitate. I’m not sure I want to say this out loud. It all sounds so ironic. “We met in college.”
But I don’t tell him it was at my college’s festival, the one I went to because of the band Miles and I once talked about seeing together.
The one where I thought, after two years of not seeing Miles, that I might run into him.
I found Bill because I went to it alone, pretending I wasn’t still holding onto hope of finding Miles.
I’m living in Verryn, with my fiancé, because Miles once told me about a band.
Because of plans Miles once made with me. But I don’t say any of that.
“We didn’t date right then,” I say instead. He doesn’t say a word, so I continue. “We became friends.” I try to read Miles’s body language. “And then we got closer. And now he proposed to me, two months ago.”
He remains silent. And that silence only seems to get heavier and heavier. How can I explain not having been able to fit in any conversation in the last three days about being engaged? I want to smack my hand against my forehead.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?” he asks the question, stepping carefully on the words, as if not wanting to cross a line and break the fragile floor. “Did you not want me to know?”
“No, I meant to tell you earlier. I don’t know.”
I really don’t know. It was not like I was dragging my feet on it.
Was I overwhelmed? Was it strange that neither of us entered that topic of conversation?
At first, it felt weird, then it was like I had forgotten there’s a world outside the bubble we’ve been living in these days.
Today, when I spoke on the phone with Bill, I told myself it should be easy to tell Miles.
“I was going to tell you after the phone call today at the fountain, and then Asher and his parents showed up. Anyway, I’m sorry for not talking about it sooner.”
I don’t know what else to say. My mind is racing, my heart is pounding, my mouth can’t let any word pass by. Why am I feeling like this?
“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to say you’re sorry.” He exhales, not pressing on that. He sits up straight, looks into my eyes again, fiddles with his hands, and asks, “Are you happy with him?”
I swallow dry. Lately, I’ve been living in an automatic car mode — just moving forward, without choosing my own gears.
I know I need to change that. But I’ll work on it.
My life’s put together back in Verryn. And here, we’re just inside a bubble.
An unreal bubble. A bubble I can’t pretend to live in.
But that wasn’t what he was asking me. Right?
“I’m sorry. It was a stupid question. Of course you are,” he answers for me. And then silence takes over, lasting for what feels like an eternity.
The waiter comes to our table to get our order, unaware of the tension running through the cells of my body. Miles is a lake of tranquility, transparently serene, almost distant. He calmly gives our order while the waiter writes it down agreeably.
We still eat our American-style tacos and rate each other’s choices.
We still share our thoughts on New York City, as a lost tourist and a not-so-recent resident.
He still walks me back to my hotel.
But our silence has turned antsy, effusive, suppressed, hesitant. His muted wandering eyes, sweeping through the New York lights, hit me hundred unspoken words.
“It was really nice to see you again, Ella.” We stop at the lobby inside my hotel.
Maybe because we couldn’t part ways out on the street. Not just yet.
Maybe because we’re stretching it until the very last possible moment to say goodbye.
“You too, Miles. Thank you for these days.”
“Have a safe flight,” he adds softly, like he’s trying not to say much more.
“Thanks, Miles. I’ll see you,” I say, not sure of what else to add to this moment, and even though we both know my sentence might not make sense, or ever come true.
A warm, faint smile flickers across his face and he hugs me goodbye. I feel him more unreadable than ever before, and myself as unmalleable as a human can be.
He moves toward the door, hesitates there for a second, and then he’s gone, and I’m still frozen where he left me.