True to her promise, Sabrina brings Viv to the city to meet me for lunch. The first time that works for both of us is nearly two weeks after the picnic. During that time, I’ve essentially buried myself in work. It’s strange to say it, but I’ve seen Sean awake only three times.
That might be because I’m sleeping on the couch.
I don’t know why I can’t take that last step and pack up my suitcases and move back to Berkeley. It might be the drag of the commute, or the ghosts of my past that I know still live there—Mom and Dad are in every single particle of air in that house.
I’ve only been back for a total of seven days since I left for college. It would be like stepping into a time capsule.
Sabrina’s face when I walk into the Wooly Pig tells me all I need to know about how successful I was at covering the dark circles under my eyes this morning.
“Jesus Christ,” she mumbles as I sit down across from her. “You look like you’ve been raised from the pet cemetery.”
I laugh, grabbing the water in front of me. “Thanks.”
“If I’d known to expect this I would have had an espresso waiting for you.”
“No coffee,” I say, holding up my hand. “It’s been the sole source of my calories this week and I need something . . . juicy. A smoothie or something.”
I feel her inspection as I look down at the menu.
“Okay, tell me what’s up,” she says, leaning closer. “I saw you two weeks ago, but today you’re like a different person.”
“I’ve been working a ton. It’s a busy time—flu season is starting.” Without thinking, I glance at Viv, asleep in her stroller beside the table. “And things with Sean aren’t great.”
“Oh yeah?” Sabrina asks, and I don’t look at her face after she says it because I’m not sure how I’ll feel if her expression matches the giddy edge to her words. “What’s going on?”
I meet her eyes, giving her the spare me face. “Sabrina.”
“What?”
“Do we have to do this?” I feel like I’m going to break down in tears. “You know what’s going on.” Holding up a hand, I begin to count off the events on my fingers: “I barely know Sean. We get engaged after two months. I run into Elliot at Saul’s and seeing him is like . . . I don’t know, a kick to the soul. And then, what do you know? Elliot is back in my life and, surprise! I think things with Sean maybe aren’t so great.”
Sabrina nods but doesn’t say anything.
“You’re quiet now? I thought you’d be happy to hear this.”
“The point is that I want you to be happy. I want to see that spark I saw the other day. I want to see you blush when someone just looks at you.”
“Sabrina, I have been happy with Sean. Just because I feel more overall when Elliot is around doesn’t mean that those feelings are more valid, or happier.”
“Really? Do you even know what happy looks like? I was wondering this the other day, actually. Had I ever seen you happy before the picnic?”
This feels like a violent shove from someone who has known me for ten years. “You’re joking.”
She shakes her head. “When Elliot walked up to us . . . I swear that was the first time I’d seen you smile like that—with your entire body—and it made me question everything about your personality before then.”
“Wow,” I say slowly. That feels . . . enormous.
“You think you’re happy, but you’re barely living.”
“Sabrina, that’s residency and working eighty-plus hours a week.”
“No,” she says with a firm shake of her head. She leans back in her chair, taking her mug of coffee with her. “Do you remember freshman year?”
I feel the cold shadow of that time creeping over me. “Barely.”
“Ever since I met you, Elliot has been the third person with us, every second. I sometimes felt like the things you told me, you only told me because he wasn’t there.” She holds up a hand when I start to respond to this. “That’s not a complaint, by the way. I had Dave, and I had you. You had me . . . but you also had him—in your thoughts, in every single thing you did. When you went out with guys, it was like . . . you were slinking out and sneaking back in at night, as if there was someone who might be mad that you’d been on a date.”
Letting out a long breath, I study her, hating her for doing this, for putting these truths, which so far lived only in the dusty shadows of my memory, out into the public space.
“The first time you slept with Julian? You remember that?”
I let out a laugh-groan. I do remember. It was halfway through freshman year. Guitar-playing, long-haired Julian was a demigod on campus, and a junior. Beautiful, mildly vain, not as deep as he thought he was—or maybe that’s just my take in hindsight. For whatever reason, he started pursuing me in October, much to the heated jealousy of his band’s groupies. I finally agreed to go out with him; at the time I thought maybe diving into something with someone else would make everything back in California disappear.
We had sex at his place after our first date. I don’t really remember much about it other than thinking, while it was happening, that there were at least fifteen other women who would want to be in this bed right now, and that he was probably doing a fairly capable job at the whole thing. But all I wanted was for him to be done so I could go home and curl into a ball.
I got back to the dorm room I shared with Sabrina, and before I could say a single word, I threw up on her favorite pair of purple Docs before breaking down into a hysterical puddle and telling her everything about Elliot.
“Poor Julian,” I say.
“He was cute,” she says. “And it worked for a while because you weren’t invested. You’re never invested, Macy. You only have a handful of people you’d actually call friends, and keep everyone else on the surface.”
I move to object and she lifts a sassy hand to stop me.
“Let me get this out, I’ve been working on this speech since the picnic.”
I smile in spite of my anger. “Okay.”
“I’m sure Sean is a great guy, but it’s another version of you and Julian; everything’s on the surface. You never feel what you felt for Elliot, but it’s convenient: you don’t want to feel that again anyway.”
I nod tightly. Sabrina can’t really be blamed for saying aloud the things I’ve started to wonder, too.
“But, shit, Mace,” she says gently, “doesn’t it seem sort of selfish? You give only as much as you’re willing. Luckily this time, Sean is happy with the scraps.”
I sit back in my chair. “My goodness,” I say. “Tell me what you really think.”
She chews on her lower lip, studying me. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”
I scrub my hands over my face, feeling more tired than I’ve been all week. “It’s not that simple, and you know it.”
Sabrina closes her eyes, breathing slowly in and then out. Looking at me again, she says gently, “I know, honey. The thing is . . . you’re pretending like you can just walk away from Elliot. Can you? And if not, what are you doing staying engaged to another man?”
“I know, I know,” I say, feeling a simmering in my stomach.
Her expression softens. “Don’t you just want to see where it could go with Elliot? The worst thing that could happen is it doesn’t work and he’s not in your life anymore.” She leans back in, saying more quietly, “You know you can survive that. At least, minimally.”
I spin my fork on the table.
“What’s keeping you with Sean?”
I know she wants a serious answer, but I’m just done with the intensity of this conversation. “His place is so convenient.”
She lets out a barking laugh that actually startles Viv in her sleep. “They’re fluffing your pillows in hell, Macy Lea Sorensen.”
“I don’t think one gets pillows in hell,” I say, smiling back at her. “And I’m kidding. I’m just having a hard time trusting these new doubts, because a few weeks ago I was perfectly happy with Sean. What if this is a blip?”
She lets out a skeptical “Mm-hmm.”
I blink up to her. “Come on.”
“You come on. You know I’m right. Sean is easy, I get it. He’s a cactus and Elliot is an orchid. I get that, too. Just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Just don’t be a testicle about this,” she says. Sabrina hates using pussy to mean weak, especially after birthing her ten-pound baby the old-fashioned way. “When you think about kissing Elliot, what does it make you feel?”
My entire body explodes in heat, and I know it shows immediately on my face. I know what it’s like to kiss Elliot. I know how he sounds when he comes. I know how his hands become wild and roaming when he’s hard. I know how he learned to touch, and kiss and give pleasure, because he learned with me.
I know how good it was, even for the short time I had it.
“I don’t even need you to answer.” She leans back when our waitress comes by to take our orders.
When she’s left again, my phone vibrates in my bag and I pull it out, laughing. It’s a message from Elliot, whom I haven’t spoken to since the picnic.
Have you talked to Sean about New Years?
I’d love for you to come with me.
Think of it as a chance to do research for the wedding you don’t feel like planning.
I turn my phone around, showing it to Sabrina, and she laughs, shaking her head. “Intervention complete.”
