“Not that charitable.”
“Relax, Scrooge” she says. Before I can scold her, we’re laughing like old times. The tears that run down my face are for once from joy instead of pain. Lily comes over and pulls me into an embrace. It’s long, but not nearly long enough as I needed it to be.
“I really fucking missed you, more than you could ever know,” she whispers. “I don’t need the vibrator anyway, I’ve got...friends.”
“This might be the thousandth time I say it, but I am sorry,” I reply, ignoring whatever it is she has planned from that throwaway remark.
“Water under the bridge. Today, we start fresh.”
We head to checkout and I text John to let him know that I’m on the way. Clothing for two—$236.50; destroying the men’s section of Walmart and rebuilding a bond that never broke—priceless.
Seven
Dinner is served
We head back to the coffee shop and, to my dismay, Melody has finished her shift for the day. John is sitting in his same spot as earlier and greets us like a doting grandfather.
“Well I knew you had a sister, but you never mentioned how beautiful she was. I’m John and you must be Lily,” he extends his hand.
“You’re too kind, it’s nice to meet you,” she replies as she takes his offered hand. “Since we’re here, I’m gonna grab a cup of coffee. I hear this is your place John, why don’t you show me the best brew.”
While they buy coffee I’m left with the task of finding a hotel to stay in. In what’s rapidly becoming the norm, I’ll be footing the bill, since Lily’s financial solvency is more in line with a Bernie Madoff investor. The options seem infinite, but I narrow the choices down to hotels within a mile of Romancing the Bean. I could lie and say it’s because John stays close by—at least I assume he does—but that would be bullshit.
It’s Melody, plain and simple.
I book a large suite on the top floor that, from the pictures, looks like an apartment. Lily can have her space and, if I’m lucky, the television will have a show that I can binge watch when the inevitable panic attack happens.
Not sure what that looks like.
I’ve reconnected with Lily which—in theory—means my job is complete. Not sure I’d classify our relationship as cozy, but it’s getting there. However, there’s still something missing. I really don’t wanna fly back to Colorado right now; there’s nothing there for me. As crazy as it sounds, this feels like where I need to be right now.
Melody still hasn’t responded to my text, and I consider texting her again. I wonder if she’s waiting for me to call instead. It feels good to be wanted, to know that someone’s out there waiting on me to make a move. If I never call her, I’ll always know she wanted me to call. I haven’t dated much but, when I did, women didn’t leave their numbers on napkins for no reason. The question is whether I should tell her everything.
Lily and John return to the table, laughing like old friends.
“John tells me there’s a woman here that’s smitten with you, Miles.”
I look at John, he has a sly grin on his face—the same one he had earlier when he was pestering me to call her. He knows something I don’t and it makes my stomach turn. My phone vibrates in my pocket and my heart skips a beat. I grab it, a bit too excitedly judging by the stares I get from Lily and John. With one glance at the screen my hopes are dashed. My mother sits on the other end of the line, her sixth sense for detecting an happiness in my life probably set off alarm bells in her living room. Not now Satan, I think to myself and press ignore. “She’s a barista, and it’s just a phone number—no big deal.”
“Well, seeing as you’re still in your own little Shakespearean tragedy, I would disagree.”
“Am I missing something?” John asks, looking between us.
I’m not sure how to proceed. He knows Melody, so whatever I tell him will likely get back to her. But, he’s part of this family now and he’ll find out eventually.
“My wife and kids were killed in a car accident,” I say in a tone that sounds rehearsed—I’ve gotten pretty good at explaining shit away with the same script—“I tried to commit suicide, and my therapist convinced me to repair my relationship with her.” I point to Lily.
“I’m sorry to hear that, I figured you were in a midlife crisis.”
“You’re not far off, actually,” Lily retorts.
As annoying as they’re being, I can’t help but sit and take it. Today has been one of the few days that I actually have the willpower to get through it.Depression works in mysterious ways; it occasionally offers days that give you a glimpse of what happiness is like—like a prisoner getting his hour in the yard before heading back to his cell.
“Melody is more than a rebound,” John says in a protective tone that catches me off guard.
“Two days ago I couldn’t watch a starving kids infomercial without losing it. I’m harmless.”
“He’s not lying. He’s as harmful as a straight guy at a pride rally,” Lily says, forever my protector, “Now, if we were talking about me … that’s a different story.”
They laugh and share a fist bump, seeming to have quite the bond—similar to his relationship with Melody. John’s demeanor puts me at ease.
“Where are you staying John?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
“I got a tent under an overpass on the Upper East Side. Actually, if I wanna get there before dark, I should be heading out.”
“We have a suite at Berkshire. You’d have your own room, if you want.”
“It’s ok, just come back for checkers tomorrow,” he says, before packing up and leaving.
I make a mental note to come back tomorrow; John’s the only relationship in my life that isn’t on the verge of disintegrating.
“Let’s grab some dinner,” Lily says, “I know a place that makes great fish tacos.”
Before I can refuse, she grabs my hand a hails a cab.
Our cab driver drives just as bad as anyone in New York. He weaves between cars with little regard for anyone—including Lily and myself. Lily pays him no mind; she’s focused on her phone, typing so furiously that it could pass for morse code. Because she’s a poor and newly homeless grad student, I’ll obviously be footing the bill—not that I’m complaining. I’ll pay anything to feel how I do right now.
Alive.
Having my thoughts free, able to imagine the possibilities of the future instead of lingering on the regrets of the past, makes me feel hopeful that I’ll find a stage of the grieving process that has a silver lining for me. I know that moment could be fleeting, but I promise myself I’ll enjoy it.
The sun is setting, gleaming off the towering skyscrapers.; I’ve forgotten how beautiful a sunset can be. I find myself smiling, thinking of how—just yesterday—I was going to start a new season of House of Cards with some cajun food for company. Now, I’m reunited with my sister and on the path to normalcy. That path starts with Lily thumbing through the music collection in my phone. She winces, snorts, and frowns as she scrolls through the albums.