about writing and fiction

Could It Ever Be?

“I can’t believe you drove up from Florida for this,” I said. 

Amy shrugged.  “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

“And now?”

She didn’t answer but traced a circle in the gravel with the toe of her high heels.

Across the parking lot, the doors to the VFW were open, light and music pouring out into the cool night.  The two of us leaned against the front of my car and watched the silhouettes of our classmates at the party inside. 

 “I thought it would feel different,” she said. 

She reached into her purse and fished out a cigarette.

 “Those will kill you, you know.”

 “Really?  Because no one’s ever told me that before.” 

Her lighter sparked in the darkness and she took a long drag, the cigarette a glowing red dot in front of her.  She held the smoke in her lungs for a moment and then blew it out in an exaggerated breath. 

“I should give them up.”

Neither of us spoke for a long while.  She dropped the butt onto the ground and crushed it with her shoe.

“I don’t think I’m going in,” I said. 

“You’re here, you’re all dressed up.”

“Even so.”

“You don’t want to see all your old friends?” she asked mischievously.  “Relive all the old memories?”

I waved a hand towards the party.

“After you, then.”

She laughed, and I remembered the sound and her smile in the dim light. 

“Fucking Florida,” she said.  “Why did I do this?”

“When are you going back?” I asked.

She shrugged.  “I don’t know, maybe never.”

“I’m surprised.”

“There’s nothing there for me, you know.  I thought there would be.  But there’s not.”

“Not much here, either,” I said.

“There’s not much anywhere.”

A limo pulled into the parking lot and blocked our view of the front doors.  I could see shadows stepping from the car and going inside.  The doors to the building shut behind them and the world became quiet.  Insects swarmed around the glow of a nearby streetlamp.

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.

“I am.” I didn’t want to say more.

She turned to look at me. 

“What’s her name.”

“Stevie,” I said. 

“Sounds like a boy’s name.”

I chuckled.  “No one is going to mistake her for a boy.”

“Why didn’t you bring her?”

“She’s working,” I lied.  Because I knew you would be here.   

“Too bad,” Amy said.  “I would like to have met her.”

“Yeah.” 

I straightened my back and looked around.  Everyone else was inside.  We were alone.

“I was thinking of moving back up here,” she said.  She crossed her arms in front of her.

“You could do that.”

“What happened to us?” she asked after a long pause.

That question haunted me for ten years.  In my mind there was a good answer, the kind that bounces around your mind in the early hours of the morning when you haven’t slept a wink, the sort that makes sense while driving to work and wondering about how things could have been.  But now, she stood beside me, and there were no words.

She turned to look at me. 

“I’m serious,” she said.  “Don’t you ever wonder?”

Every day, I thought. 

“I’m thinking about coming back.”

“You said that already.” 

“Well,” she asked quietly.  “What do you think about that?”

“It was never going to work out,” I said.

“But could it?”

I wanted it to work.  My heart raced at the thought I could tell her I had always loved her, take her into my arms, feel her body pressed against my own.  We could live the life we should’ve had.  Ten years of memories of wanting her.  But also, that one moment, locked away because it hurt so much.  It cried out now, rose up between us, and refused to be ignored even as it could not be mentioned. 

“No,” I said.  “I think you should give Florida another chance.”

The words hurt me, and I could see the pain in her face, too.  She continued to look at me, biting her lip.  She remembered, too, and the silence hung between us. 

“Your probably right,” she said finally.

She stepped away from my car and pulled her keys from her purse. 

“It was really good to see you again.”  Her voice was already far away.

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

She frowned and turned away from me.  “Don’t worry about it.  I should get going anyway.”

I watched her leave, the red taillights of her car disappearing beyond the intersection, and then got into my own car.  With the radio turned low I replayed our conversation over and over.  Stevie would be waiting at home and I was in no hurry to be there. 

posted May 23, 2020