Page 62 of Something like Desire

“I’m going to miss you,” I whisper.

“I’ll be there,” Zach says. “When you’re ready.”

We hold each other for several minutes longer before I finally pull away. “I’d better go.”

A few minutes later, as I back out of the driveway, Zach gazing at me as I pull out into the road, I wonder if this new, annoyingly wise part of me is wrong about needing to put this on pause. I wonder if I’ve just made a huge mistake.

TWENTY-SIX

A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to believe my luck, but I’m currently sitting at a desk—a pretty impressive, polished walnut one—in my own office at The Fifth House website and lifestyle brand. It doesn’t even feel like a job. I’m totally invested in working creatively for them and I get to help people through my articles rather than refereeing their arguments.

I got an assignment to write about alternative medicine, so I’m going to dish about my experience with acupuncture. Honestly, it was amazing. The whole time, it felt like these heavy weights I’d been carrying around were just lifted right off me. I could actually breathe easier, and all that stress I’d been holding onto just melted away. I walked out feeling lighter, calmer, and kind of like a new person.

I pull up the interview documents on my screen, one from a woman who used acupuncture therapy for fertility and was finally able to have a full-term pregnancy, and another from a man who had insomnia for years who’s now able to sleep again.

My supervisor, Eva, knocks twice on the open door, her long red skirt swinging around her ankles. “How’s the piece coming?”

“It’s great. I’ll have it in a few days before my deadline.”

Eva grins at me and tucks her dark brown hair behind her ears. “Good stuff. Are you coming to the social tonight?”

The Fifth House office team goes out every Thursday for dinner and today is no exception. I haven’t missed one dinner yet. They usually start off pretty tame, and we talk about business and the brand over some tapas, but they often end with some impromptu karaoke at a dive bar down the road. Andy would be proud. The next day in the office, however, isn’t always a fun time. Hangovers and writing don’t go together very well.

“I’ll be there,” I answer. This time, Maren’s coming along with us. We’ve practiced our song, a Spice Girls classic, dozens of times and even have our dance routine down pat. My coworkers are about to see a whole new side of me.

I continue typing my story, and it’s flowing so well, maybe thanks to the little fountain I ordered for my desk. Every time I look at it, I think of Zach, and I wonder how close I am to achieving what I need to with my life to be ready to call him again. I just hope he’ll agree to see me. Whenever I look at it, I feel touched by the fact that Zach noticed how much water inspires me. I feel like no one has ever taken the time to notice something like that about me before and it’s comforting that he did.

Zach doesn’t even know that I work here since I haven’t told him yet, but I have this fantasy that plays in my head of me seeing him. It’s lunch break and I’m about to step out the front entrance, when I see Zach, walking along the street holding a coffee in his hand.

In the fantasy, I race to catch up with him and tap him on the back. Every time I picture this, I’m always wearing one of my nicest linen blazers with a pencil skirt, and he eyes me from head to toe with a smile lighting up his whole face before asking where I’m coming from and whether or not I’m happy. I tell him that I am, and we hold each other for a very long time before going somewhere to catch up over lunch, barely able to stop kissing each other long enough to get the words out.

I apologize again for being dishonest, he tells me that he forgives me, and I tell him that I’ve finally achieved all the things on my nonnegotiable list. I don’t have any more doubts about whether or not I’m ready.

I find myself glancing out of the window a lot, hoping to see him walking by, and every lunch break I take, I hope that I’ll run into him. I’ve even gone to Pavaro, but Danny says he hasn’t been there since we went together. I want the first time that Zach and I see each other again to come organically.

If my lunch hour fantasy doesn’t work out, however, I do have another plan.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Maren and I are curled up in my freshly painted living room, the terra-cotta walls glowing like a permanent golden hour. The air still smells faintly of citrusy paint fumes and vanilla from the candle burning on the windowsill. Framed prints of sunsets hang beside quotes I’m trying to live by, like Lao Tzu’s “When you let go of what you are, you become what you might be,” and Ram Dass’s “The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” Apricot, my toy poodle and walking partner, is perched on Maren’s lap. She lets out a high-pitched bark that’s more squeaky toy than watchdog.

“She sounds like an alarm system made entirely out of helium,” Maren mutters, laughing as Apricot squirms into a tighter ball.

I grab Apricot and give her a cuddle. I’ve found that I’m more of a dog person than a cat person. Who would have guessed?

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Maren asks, giving me the full pouty face.

The idea of going to the parade with her and Gia isn’t exactly terrible, but today I’d like to take a break and go and do some writing somewhere since I haven’t written for myself since I got my new job.

I shake my head firmly as I pet Apricot. “Nope. Sorry. Not today. I have a date with my notebook.”

“That’s the only lover you seem interested in right now.”

“Yep,” I say, even though that’s not true at all and Maren knows it. I’ve thought about Zach every single day since I last saw him. That doesn’t mean I’ve been hating my time alone though. I love my own company and I’ve spent so much time evaluating and coming to understand every aspect of my life, that I finally don’t think I’m in a shitty place. I enjoy my time with Apricot and movies on my own and trying different kinds of food whenever I get the chance. I feel like I finally know myself again. Every knickknack in my space, every part of my day-to-day life is something I currently want. I actually don’t know if I’ve ever had that feeling before.

“Okay, I give up. You can officially go and be a tree hugger if that’s what floats your boat.” Maren gives me a quick hug before grabbing her purse and heading to the door. “But if you want to catch up with us later, give me a call.”

I almost don’t remember where it is, even though I tried to pay attention to the directions on my way home because I knew I wanted to go back there again. I do manage to make it there and park at the mouth of the familiar trail that has more wildflowers growing around it than it did last year.