Page 27

mak

He’s been gone for like a half an hour—the perfect timing for me to sober up a bit and realize all the things I’m thinking are a terrible idea. I’ve acted on enough of them to know. There’s an ease to my head and soul when I’m around him, and I can’t believe I feel the fucking same way I did twelve years ago. But I have to go before it’s too hard to walk away again.

This time I’ll say goodbye. I owe him that after the way I broke up with him. We had an amazing time the day before his eighteenth birthday. All the weirdness of being apart ceased to exist once we were in the same space. I’m scared that it feels the same as that. But when I bolted, I was young, and family, friends, and money surrounded him. He was unaffected. I was very affected and aware I didn’t belong there so I literally ran out of their Martha’s Vineyard mansion, and down the road to a ferry. I eventually texted him. But that day, I left a giant piece of myself behind. I don’t know if he’s aware he’s been holding it for me all this time.

His nature, his heart, and his humor were things I felt came so easily for him. And for once in my life, I wanted to be a part of something easy, so he let me. He didn’t know I gobbled up our happiness and swallowed it down, devouring every moment with him, hoping it would rub off on my life beyond Paris. When I flew back to my house, I was reminded I didn’t belong to him or in that world. His parents dismissed me in a way that was both cliché and painful.

My parents are good people and love me, probably shouldn’t have had a kid, but here I am.

His sexy mouth tugs upward as he taps away on his phone. I’m experiencing a rush of memories and feelings that were once neatly tucked away as I walk toward him.

I didn’t want him to see any of my real ugly because his world was so sparkling. I didn’t want him to know I flunked out of high school. That I partied and fucked around because I didn’t want to go home. I certainly didn’t want him to see my parents in their ancient striped faded barker loungers, eating on TV trays binging old Columbos and new Law & Order: SVU’s. And having heart issues because they both really love the KFC bowls. And their issues were never about the quality of food, just the reasons they kept on eating.

I want to help families to find their balance in life, so I’m going into family medicine. It took me twenty-two years to find it myself, and I dragged my parents along for the ride. I’m proud of turning my life around. But I can’t fucking tell him because he doesn’t know anything about my family or my real life. He was only ever privy to my heart and soul. I can’t hang around to find out if that’s enough.

But that fucking dark-ass day when I flew home and saw our house filled with junk and neglect was the moment I wanted to make my lies true. Looking at a long stretch of sad loneliness, I began to empty our house and fill our lives. I made room in my life to be something more than everyone assumed. I gave myself permission and space to step into my own light instead of mocking it, lying, or running from it. It was the day we all began to dream.

I never reached out because by the time I was proud of myself, he was married. And married. And I believe he is currently—married.

His blue eyes and rich honey hair. His nose is a little crooked, and I’m sure he broke it in a fight at some point. He was always good at starting them and terrible at finishing them. It adds character to his face. The outline in his jeans is undeniable and he’s casual, sexy, and, well, not mine. He skips to me grinning like a madman taking my hand.

“Where did you go?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nope. That’s a question for you to answer. Come on.”

“You’re married.”

He laughs. “Not for long.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Also, nope. No sympathy. It’s not my first time.” He wiggles three fingers of his bare left hand at me.

“Three divorces. So, I’ve heard.” He’s not exactly out of the spotlight.

He nods and laughs, then says, “Never would have happened if you hadn’t broken up with me. Totally your fault.” I laugh, but I hope that’s not true. Ok, I hope it’s a little true.

He drags me with him, and we’re flying through the casino and laughing. I should pull back, but I want a piece of the old fearless and sometimes reckless Makenzie back. Maybe that’s the piece he’s been holding for me all along.

We look like a couple that people would envy. Or at least I think we do. It could be the vodka talking. I avoid looking in a mirror because I think I look smoking hot. The reality is I probably have eyeliner smeared under my eyes and the faded edges of a once perfectly lined lip. I let myself get lost in the way he makes me feel beautiful for a second. Maybe we can have that moment and avoid digging up all the pain we seem to be ignoring. And getting laid by someone I know is packing and is fantastic at fucking, wouldn’t be the worst idea I’ve ever had.

That one is reserved for the Reno church I scammed into sponsoring me to go to France for three months. I’ve paid them back but I’m still working off that moral debt with odd jobs for the church.

He yanks me into the present by taking me in his arms. I’m out of breath in this confined space with this mythical man. Like my favorite childhood toys, the Sand Dollar Café and Poolside Paradise Beach Lego sets, I’ve both built him up and torn him down a thousand times. By combining them, I made a kind of resort. I’d rebuild them at least once a week, always altering and trying to perfect the beach scene. I’d place and replace the figures or move the chairs around and reposition the pool, change up the color patterns of the plastic bricks. Then finally, I’d imagine living there and being carefree with an umbrella drink. Snapping the cup into my Lego figure’s hand when it felt like paradise. It was always the final piece. Then I’d tear it apart again, knowing I’d have nothing like that. Perfect doesn’t exist.

I imagine a life if I’d stayed in Boston sometimes. I build it up tall, just like the beach Lego. I move the pieces around in my mind, conjuring perfection. But I know I would have wrecked it somehow. Even when I think about it, I tear it down quickly in my mind, so I don’t have to see all the imperfections in either the dream or surrounding me. The scattered colored bricks return to their box, so I can build and try another day.

“Take me to bed,” I blurt out.

He raises an eyebrow. “In a minute, little witch. There are things to do and things that need to be said first.” My heart almost explodes as he uses my former nickname. I adjust my black dress and wring my hands. His look is so reverent I don’t know how to respond.

I whisper under my breath, “Adventure.”

He whips me around, and I end up facing him. He kisses me quickly and mumbling against my lips, “Adventure.” I gasp a bit, and he spins me back out of his arms and leads me through the maze of the casino.

“Where?” I say as he madly types on his phone.

“So nosy. You used to be a lot easier to be around.” I guffaw loudly.