Page 72 of Engineering a Love Story

Driving home, I suspect I won’t have to say Ash’s name out loud to my father ever again. Though I do wonder if we might one day be able to talk more about my mother. He never used to want to discuss it, and I always thought I was protecting him, not mentioning her. Maybe he thought he was doing the same with me.

When she died, I didn’t want to dissect my emotions with anyone. It was a challenge to simply get through high school every day. The pain was fresh and disorienting; it seemed best to keep it tucked away, like love letters in an under-the-bed box. By the time I left high school, my memories of her seemed distant. A single year is a long time in the life of a teen, and four years is an eternity. My sadness hardened like a stone inside of me, one I both cherished and feared.

I know there’s a thread that leads from my mother’s death to Ash. Of course his warm family had been appealing. Can I forgive myself, even a little, for clinging to the safe life I perceived they offered?

I’m not sure. I don’t want to make excuses. And I’m not interested in seeing myself as a victim—it’s the opposite really. I always believed I drew the high cards, even after my mother’s death. I got good grades. I worked hard.

Ash chose me for whatever reason he did—something that’s his to work out—and that made me feel like I was someone, my place away from here secured. No one told me I could do that on my own—that I did, in fact, do it mostly on my own. Maybe I can take some credit for my own accomplishments.

I want to be done with this nebulous fear that I might somehow slip back, whatever that means. There’s no safety, not really. Bad things happen to people, this is true everywhere. I’m not protected by finding the right relationship, city, or job, by staying small. That isn’t a reason to hide out and to play it safe, to let it all pass by. That would be the worst thing of all.

Forty-Four

On the day before Thanksgiving, I cycle early. The sky is gray and low with the snow that’s forecasted for later in the day, and there’s a cold spell predicted to come after that. I go almost to Lexington, wanting to ride while I still can.

I’ve just arrived back in my apartment when my phone rings. “Happy birthday,” Bethany says. “Three-O. Can you believe it? I’m sorry it’s been so long. Catch me up on everything.”

I admit it’s hard to believe we’re thirty. Some days, it feels like we were in college only months ago, though more often lately, it seems like the girl who lived with Bethany back then was a different person entirely.

“You first. How’s Madison?”

Nine months is a great age, Bethany reports. Madison still isn’t walking, but she can scoot around, so long as she holds onto some piece of furniture. They’ve settled into more of a routine with Bethany’s work and Madison’s daycare. Gus’s parents are coming for Thanksgiving. Bethany will attempt to cook her first big meal since having the baby. “When can you visit?” she asks.

I tell her I’ll try for early December.

She presses me for details on what happened with Seth and I give her a brief synopsis.

“An article in Forbes? Tell me the issue. I can find it at work.” I laugh, letting my gaze land on the stack of papers by my stereo, where the magazine still sits. “You’ve had no contact with him since?”

I tell her about election night.

“Can you even believe all that?” she interrupts.

It is nearly impossible to fathom that we’re still without resolution. Bush is currently leading the tally in Florida, but Gore scored a victory the day before with a ruling that the manual recounts had to continue. Bush is appealing to the Supreme Court.

After dissecting the election, we circle back to Seth. “I couldn’t begin again at that point,” I say.

“I tried to warn you.”

“I know,” I say, squashing a small wave of irritation, because I know Bethany is only trying to protect me. “Though I don’t regret being with Seth.”

“That’s generous.”

“Maybe. But for once, I simply enjoyed it, you know? Did what I wanted, just for the sake of it. It wasn’t goal oriented.” I try to collect my thoughts. “He helped me, even if he wasn’t trying to. To figure out what I actually want rather than just what I’m afraid of. Maybe he just filled that need for me, you know? One thing doesn’t always have to lead to something else.” I don’t say it outright, but I know I’ll hold up how I felt with Seth as some kind of standard for whatever happens next. I want to be done with a scarcity mindset. “I know there were extenuating circumstances—the distance, all the sneaking around—and those things made it otherworldly. But shouldn’t we all be transported sometimes?”

Bethany hesitates, but then she says, “Yeah. We should.”

***

After we say goodbye, I drive to the office. Travis is borrowing my car to take Daisuke to Provincetown for the weekend, and I need to pass him my keys. Travis doesn’t own a vehicle, always saying the hassle of parking in Boston isn’t worth it.

“Have you heard about this new Zipcar thing?” Travis asked me the day before. “I might use one of those this weekend to get to the Cape.”

“You’re not visiting your parents?”

“For Thanksgiving? God, no. My mother did invite us. Both of us, and I love her for that. But it’s uptight family on both sides. We’d have to wear ties, and that’s a hard pass. Daisuke wants to see Provincetown.”

“Do you want to borrow my car?”