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I sigh and think of everything that led me to this deck right here, right now. She was staring at me before I turned, I felt her gaze on me. She told her friend I’m hot, maybe I can get rid of some of this frustration I’ve built up about her over the years. The amount of time I’ve spent thinking about her, comparing other women to her, is embarrassing. Maybe I could cut her some slack, we were only 18 after all.
Then I think of the things I shared with her and I get mad again. I look over and she’s still sitting there, sipping her wine, scrolling on her phone.
I make a decision and jog down the stairs of my deck and then up the stairs of hers. I have a flashback of the many times I ran up these stairs, knowing that the best person was waiting at the top. The person I wanted to kiss, cherish, and make happy.
“Hey,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me. “You could have knocked or something.”
I look around and then knock on the railing.
“It was a spontaneous decision. I saw you over here drinking alone, and I’m over there doing the same, so I thought the healthy thing to do was to join you so neither of us is pathetic.”
“Did you think that finger was an invitation?” She smiles an evil smile and I feel that in my dick. I take a swig from my beer and sit in a chair across from her.
“So, Hatchet, tell me all about your life.” I wave around the deck like her life is here.
“Why should I do that?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.
“Wow, so hostile, I thought two old friends could catch up. I did save you from being eaten by seagulls and crabs.”
She smiles again and this time I think it’s sincere.
“Friends?”
I shrug.
“Friends usually call or write, so I guess we aren’t very good friends.”
I’m impressed by her cruelty.
“Wow, you are not the same girl I knew. When did you turn into such a bitch?”
“Probably when my husband left me for his assistant,” she says and she said it to make a point but her face can’t hide the pain in the statement.
“Wow, what a cliché,” I say but secretly a little happy she’s single again.
“Right? So when did you become such a dickhole?”
I laugh. “Probably after being dumped by someone I thought was my soulmate.”
She nods. “That’ll do it.”
“We are a fun pair.” I take another drink of my beer.
“Who knew we’d turn out to be such bitter beans?” she asks looking out at the ocean.
A cool breeze rustles her long blonde hair and it’s like no time has passed. She looks the same, maybe her edges are a little sharper but her beauty shines through. I offer her my hoodie, and she takes it.
“Wait, is this the same one from that summer?” she asks as she pulls the well-worn LBI guard sweatshirt I’ve had for 17 years.
“Yep, I take very good care of it.” I know it’s weird but I love that thing. It’s definitely fraying in a few spots and I’ve mended it a few times, but it’s hanging in there.
She smells it, closes her eyes and smiles. I won’t lie and say she doesn’t look amazing wearing it. She used to steal it all the time that summer, even though she had one of her own.
“It’s so soft. I wish I still had mine,” she says, wistful. “I left it on a ferry boat in Ireland.”
“You’ve been to Ireland?” I ask, knowing it was high on her list of countries to travel to when we spent night after night dreaming about trips we’d take, places we’d go together. Ireland was her top, and Spain was mine.
She nods. “A few times, I went in college and my mom and I traveled across Europe a few years ago.”
