Love and Other Words
Page 24

I need a Sean in my life.
I need an Elliot about as much as I need a hole in the head.
Elliot comes up with a smile that mirrors ours, looking at each of us in turn. “I assume this is the welcoming committee?”
Sabrina steps forward, hand extended. Her words come out high and breathless. “I’m Sabrina. I was Macy’s college roommate, and I have wanted to meet you forrrevverrrrrr.”
He bursts out laughing, looking at me with raised brows.
I put my hand on her shoulder, stage-whispering, “Take it down a notch.”
Elliot opts to give her a hug over a handshake. Sabrina is on the tall side, but Elliot dwarfs her, wrapping her in arms that are surprisingly muscular, running tan and toned beyond the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. He tucks his face close to her as they hug, and I realize, with that one movement, Elliot has just endeared himself to Sabrina for all eternity. No one loves a good hug more than she does.
“Well,” he says, stepping back and smiling at her, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Sabrina looks like she is going to pass out from elation. Turning, Elliot gazes at me expectantly.
“Nikki,” I prompt, pointing. “And this is Danny.”
I see the reaction move across Elliot’s expression, the response to names he’s heard for so long but faces he’s only ever seen in photos. “Ah, okay,” he says, smiling and shaking Danny’s hand before embracing Nikki. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I laugh, because what he’s heard is all from the drama of high school. I wonder if he’s thinking what I am, about Nikki’s wild side and Danny’s awkward boners. Elliot catches my eyes, and the glimmer there tells me I’m right. He suppresses a smile, and I bite my lip to do the same.
“All right,” I say, “let’s go find the food.”
Dave and Sean have a nice little spot set up in the shade. Phoebe is drawing quietly on a blanket, Viv is asleep in the stroller, and the two guys are talking, but I can see Dave throw Sabrina a rescue me look as we approach. It makes protectiveness for Sean flare inside me, but the feeling is drenched by a flush of adrenaline when he stands, wiping his hands on his jeans and moving toward us. Toward Elliot.
What am I even doing?
I introduce Sean to Nikki and Danny first – the easy ones. Danny is clearly bewildered about what the hell is going on when he hears me say the word fiancé, and glances to Elliot as if he’s missed something important.
Sean turns to Elliot, and static hums all around me. The tension is clear in Elliot, too: in his shoulders, and across his brow. Sean is as relaxed as ever.
“Sean, this is Elliot,” I say, adding inexplicably, “my oldest friend.”
“Hey!” Nikki says, and Danny choruses the sentiment as soon as it sinks in what I said.
I laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just —”
Elliot comes to my rescue, saying, “Nice to meet you, Sean,” as he reaches to shake Sean’s hand, and God, this is so awkward. On so many levels.
Sean smiles easily and winks at me. “I thought I was your oldest friend?”
Everyone laughs cordially at this, and Sean releases Elliot’s hand, turning to lay an enormous kiss on my mouth. And seriously, what the hell? Is Sean jealous, or not? It catches me so off guard I don’t even close my eyes, which fly to Elliot’s face. His chest moves backward with the force of his shocked inhalation. He recovers by moving away quickly, sitting down beside Phoebe and Dave, introducing himself. As Sean steps away from me, I hear the deep tenor of Elliot’s voice asking what Phoebe’s drawing.
Nostalgia wipes over my thoughts, taking me back to when Elliot would sit with baby Alex like this, gently observing, quietly praising. Now he picks up a crayon, asking if she’ll show him how to draw a flower like she does.
“Ovary explosion,” Sabrina mumbles in my ear, pretending to be kissing my cheek.
“Something like that,” I whisper, wiping my hands on my jeans. I think I’m actually sweating.
We unpack the food, handing out sandwiches, drinks, and fruit to everyone. Conversation eases as soon as Nikki starts talking basketball, because Dave is a former basketball player himself and thank God for the two of them being here, because they carry the enthusiasm required for any good picnic. When Viv wakes up, Phoebe gets to hold her, and the joy in her eyes turns us into cooing, adoring messes. All in all, it goes how a picnic should: eating, talking, a few minor insect battles, and the semi-discomfort of sitting on blankets in the grass.
But something irreparable has happened in my heart. This shaking of my conviction started with the sex I could barely have with Sean the other morning, and it continued ripping down the middle today with the two of them here. I know Sabrina notices the looks Elliot and I can’t seem to stop sharing. Maybe she notices, too, the way Sean and I barely interact.
It’s hitting me at such an odd time that Elliot is here, he’s here. He’s back in front of me, accessible. I could reach out and touch him. I could crawl over to him, into his lap, feel the warmth of his arms around me.
He could be mine, still.
Why didn’t I have this reaction when I should have – two weeks ago?
I reel back through all the things that have happened to me since our falling-out, and other than Dad dying, nothing else feels all that significant. It’s as if life was just on hold, I was moving along, getting things done, but not really living. Is that awful, or fantastic? I have no idea.
Sabrina’s hand comes over mine on the picnic blanket, and I meet her eyes, wondering how much she reads on my face.
“Okay there?” she asks, and I nod, forcing a smile and wishing like hell I believed it.
then
twelve years ago
T
he only reason I made it through freshman and most of sophomore year was because of Elliot – and Dad’s willingness to spend nearly every weekend up in Healdsburg. The weekends we were up there were spent reading, tromping through the forest, and on occasional outings to Santa Rosa. Once, Elliot and I even ventured together as far as a concert all the way down in Oakland. Elliot was more family than friend, but over time, he became more personal in some ways than family, too.
But what all of this closeness meant was that whenever we missed a weekend at the cabin, the intervening weeks seemed interminable. We both did well in school, but I hated the social posturing and politics of high school friendships. Nikki and Danny felt the same about it, and were always zero drama – we spent lunch together every day as a group of outcasts-by-choice, sitting on a sloping patch of grass and watching most of the chaos unfold.
But after school, Nikki went to spend time with her grandmother, Danny went home to skateboard with the kids on his street, and I carried out my weekday routine that felt nearly ritualistic: swim practice, homework, eat, shower, bed. That we did nothing together outside of school made it hard to form very tight emotional bonds with them, but all three of us seemed oddly fine with it.
As spring of sophomore year wound down, I grew acutely aware of Elliot becoming… more. Not only intellectually, but physically, too. Seeing him only on weekends and during the summers made it feel like I was watching a time-lapse video of a tree growing, a flower blooming, a field sprouting across the year.
“Favorite word.” He shifted on the pile of pillows, eyes moving over me. They were doing their own catch-up, apparently.