It was perfect. It was the kind of kiss that gets stuck in your head like a song you play over and over and over again. It was the kind of kiss you wish would last forever even as you hope it will end so you can have another one just like it. It was the kind of kiss that splits your life into two pieces: before that moment and after.
I still find myself pulling my phone out to text him every single day. I still see a funny ad on the metro or a meme on a website, and I’ll catch myself thinking, ‘I need to tell Zach.’ I look for him when the door of Taverne Toulouse swings open and I’m standing behind the bar. I put down whatever pint glass I’m holding or glance away from whatever customer I’m chatting with, and I search for his flannel shirt and goofy smile before I realize I’m doing it.
It’s never him walking through the door.
The July air is a little colder than usual tonight, and I shiver at the wind coming off the water. The zip line must be closed for the night because I haven’t seen anyone going down it, but there are still a few pedal boats in the bay and the Ferris wheel is turning around and around above me. The artist stands all have their lights on, and there’s live music coming from somewhere close by.
There are a lot of couples and families walking around, a lot of tourists in big groups, a lot of teenagers kicking around with their friends and looking to get into trouble.
Everybody has someone.
I start twisting my grandmother’s ring around my finger. I do it so often that I usually don’t even notice until somebody asks about it or tells me to stop fidgeting, but today I pause and bring my hand up in front of my face instead.
I run my thumb over the blue jewel, tracing the faces of the stone and the silver border around it. I’ve never taken it to a jeweler to find out, but I’m pretty sure it’s a real sapphire. I don’t buy expensive jewelry because I always seem to lose it—pink hair and piercings are enough accessories for me anyway—but I don’t even take this ring off to sleep.
I wear it for the nights I wake up in the dark with no one else in my bed. I wear it for the shifts when I have to walk home by myself, jumping like a frightened rabbit at every sound in the street. I wear it for all those hours I spent on my own as a kid, wandering the sidewalks of my neighbourhood looking for a friend. I wear it for when the memories of every person that’s left my life start hitting me like blows to the head.
I wear it so that when I’m wrapped in someone’s arms, saying ‘I love you’ to a person I know I don’t love, I can remind myself that anything is better than being alone.
I pull the ring off.
I lay it in my palm and stare at the white band around my finger where the metal has sat for so many years. I wonder how long that band will take to fade.
I want to find out.
As I tuck the ring into my pocket and go back to watching the water and the Ferris wheel and the lights coming on along the piers, I catch the distant strains of live music again. I still can’t tell where it’s coming from, but I hear a crowd cheering and singing along, and after a few seconds, I realize what song the band is playing: ‘Sweetness’ by Jimmy Eat World.
My hips start swaying, and soon I’m humming along.
I could stand here and dance on my own. I could have a little dance party for one, and I know I would be fine. I would smile and clap to the beat and maybe even drop my booty down low, but as I hear the chorus and remember him singing it in my ear in a sweaty little punk club with my arms around his neck, I know I’d rather be dancing with him.
Maybe that’s fine too.
And maybe I should tell him.
Twenty-Six
Zach
LAST CALL: a phrase used to announce that a bar will be closing shortly and final orders must be made immediately
The Old Port is the last place I would expect Monroe to want to do a business meeting. Sometimes we shake things up and have our weekly face to face at a cafe instead of her office, but when she texted and asked if we could meet this Saturday afternoon in front of the giant Ferris wheel, I sent her the meme of that woman being confused while doing difficult mental calculations.
All she said was that she wanted some fresh air. I figure maybe Julien’s out of town for a few days and this is her Monroe-esque way of admitting she needs some socializing outside of the bar. She’s such a workaholic that I wouldn’t put it past her to be incapable of a Saturday hangout unless it’s under the guise of a meeting.
Whatever the reason, I head down to the Old Port to meet her. On a late July weekend, the place is crawling with tourists and locals alike. Even the metro is packed with people heading down to enjoy the cobblestones and old world charm. I weave through the crowds until I get to the riverside and then walk along the boardwalk to the spot Monroe picked out.
This is really not the place for a meeting.
There’s no sight of her even after I’ve paced up and down the whole front of the Ferris wheel area, scanning the packed railing and any nearby benches for my boss. The fact that she’s five-foot-nothing doesn’t help.
Giving up, I take the free end of a bench where a guy in a baseball cap with a Canadian flag on it is eating a food truck hamburger. I shoot Monroe a text describing my location and wait for a reply.
A loud whirring sound rings out, and I snap my head up in the direction it’s coming from. Farther along the path, I see someone zooming down the zip line that stretches over the boardwalk and out onto one of the piers. I watch them whiz by, kicking their legs a little and staying calm enough that this can’t be their first zip line rodeo. The next person screams like a banshee the whole time.
Not for the first time today, I find myself thinking of DeeDee. She still slips into my thoughts anytime I let my mind wander. She’s still the first person I want to run to when I have exciting news. It’s still her skin and her mouth and the way she tastes that keeps me up at night.
I remember how terrified she looked when I asked if she wanted to go down that zip line, all wide eyes and worried lines in her face, shaking her head before I could even finish the question.
I’ve thought a lot about that moment, and how sometimes she looked just as scared about being with me.
Seeing that look on her face broke my heart every damn time. I meant it when I said I’d be there for her through all the fear and pain, for every day it took until she was ready, but it felt like walking on broken glass to see that wince on her face each time I took a step forward and she took two steps back.
Hope’s speech about boundaries and limits got me thinking about my own limits. I wanted to give DeeDee everything, and I thought I didn’t need anything back—anything other than her. I’ve played out every scenario in my mind, walked through every option like a choose your own adventure story, and I’ve realized that in the version that worked, I needed DeeDee to be sure we were worth it. I didn’t need everything to be easy, but I needed to know she was as in this as I was.
The more I think about it, the more I realize we weren’t living that version of the story.
My phone lights up with a text, and I open the message from Monroe.
I’m over by that zip line thing. Come here and I’ll find you.
Apparently today my life is going to involve a wild goose chase around Old Montreal as I search for my boss. Never a dull moment with the Taverne Toulouse crew.