“Well, I have had a chance to see many parts of the world… John likes to travel.”
“Yes, John,” he says. Every time I mention John, Eli’s face seems to still and fade. The spark in his eyes and the curve of his lips melt away. I decide not to mention him again.
The boat finally takes off, and we see all the sites; the opera house, past where the old ferry station used to be (it’s now a cool restaurant), countless bridges, and theLittle Mermaid. She’s surrounded by a bunch of tourists snapping photos, and she’s so small. I thought she’d be huge.
We have lunch in Nyhavn again, in a secluded spot at a cozy little restaurant. We are surrounded by brick walls and trees tangled in lights — it’s very romantic. I order the cheese chicken taco, and he has the salmon salad, and we share a plate of cheese (brie, blue, and goat cheese). Turns out, we both love cheese. John is lactose intolerant and hates cheese.
“Do you remember how it all started for us,” I ask him, curious to see if he even remembers.
He smiles, and sets down his fork. “I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Friday afternoon. I was at my studio, taking a break, and I finally got the courage to write to you.”
I revel at the thought of him in his studio, all dirty and sweaty, tapping at his phone, talking to little old me. “What do you mean... ‘finally got the courage’?”
“I’d been stalking you for a while already by then,” he confesses.
My eyes grow wide. My taco hangs mid-air in my hands. “Really?!”
He laughs. “Really.”
“Well, I was stalking you too. I think you know that… I was pretty obvious, liking all your posts. I just loved your art.”
“I know… you were completely harmless,” he says, “were…”
“So my art caught your attention,” I venture, fishing for a compliment.
“It did. It was so bright…a little stroke of color in my often gloomy days.”
My smile fades. “Your days are gloomy?!”
He smiles. “No… it’s just the weather here, you know, and the divorce… I wasn’t in a good place, and then you came along and completely brightened up my world.”
Holy hell.
Tears threaten to escape. I had no idea that I meant as much to him as he did to me. I wasn’t just another distraction, I wasn’t just one of many. I really meant something.
“You were the same to me, Eli,” I confess.
“Were you not happy?!” he asks, and those eyes of his almost make me cry because they’re just so striking, and full of genuine concern.
“I was… it’s just, it can get gloomy where I live too,” I try to explain. “And sometimes I feel lonely. I have a husband, two sweet kids, and friends, yet I feel lonely… it makes no sense.”
He takes my hand in his. “It makes total sense. Humans need to connect… it’s part of our nature.”
We both fall into silence. We melt into the clatter of dishes and the buzz of conversations around us. Finally, he smiles and says, “But it wasn’t your art that first caught my attention.”
“Really?! What was it?” I ask, insanely curious.
“It was this photo of you,” he tells me. “Your kids were making goofy faces at the camera, and you had the most amazing smile. Your gorgeous hair was flowing around your shoulders. You were wearing a funny t-shirt — it had a bunch of monkeys on it. You looked so carefree and happy, and I thought to myself,Here’s a person I’d like to meet.I never will but I wonder what it’d be like. I wonder where she lives. How does she fill her days,and I became a bit obsessed.”
“Really?!” I say again, not believing my ears.
“I came to know what you were like, how you spent your days, and saw that you were so loved by your kids, and I fell for you a little more every day.”
My breath catches. My heart is pounding. “I remember the first message you ever sent me,” I tell him. “When you told me you loved my art. You have no idea how excited I was.”
He smiles. “Really?!”
“And I…” I wince at the thought. “I thought you were a woman.”
