Halfway to you, p.16
Halfway to You, page 16
“It’s all right,” I said, my cheeks ablaze. With my back to him, I readjusted the top of my slip, then stood. “I’m going to shower.”
I hurried straight into the bathroom and closed the door, panting a little. My stomach still tingled from where his hand had trailed. I stepped under the too-hot water, attempting to burn away my desire. Six years. It’d been six years since I made a fool of myself in Greece. Todd and I had grown a lot since then. We had shared so much: our thoughts and dreams and secrets and beliefs. Things were good between us—easy.
But clearly things were simpler with five thousand miles between us, when I couldn’t admire the swell of his upper lip or his citrus-musk scent. Though I cared deeply for Todd, the fact was, we simply worked better as friends. I had to stop getting so flustered in his presence, respect his wishes, and let platonic love be enough.
When I reemerged from the bathroom in a thick robe, the apartment was empty. Had he left? A sinkhole opened up in my chest. I’d ruined it again.
But then I noticed the door to my balcony was cracked; the steam from the bathroom swirled like enchanted mist toward the opening. I peeked through and immediately felt full again. Todd had donned a sweater and was leaning against the railing. Two coffees steamed on the ledge.
When he saw me, he smiled. “I helped myself to some coffee, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I said, sidling up beside him. A crisp breeze chilled my wet hair, but my robe kept most of the cold off my skin. My fingers slid around the curve of the second mug, and the chocolaty, earthy scent filled my nostrils.
Todd turned to me. “I’m sorry I . . .” He trailed off and started again. “I, uh . . . I’m sorry I was latched on to you this morning.”
“I’m the one who invited you into bed.”
“It was more comfortable than the floor.”
“Yeah, but the crying . . .” I rubbed my puffy eyes, too embarrassed to look at him. “That was too much.”
“Don’t ever apologize for hurting.”
“It was nice to be . . . held . . . for once.”
“For once?”
I didn’t need to repeat myself. He knew that being held and being held by someone who understood were two very different things.
“Well, I’m sorry if I made it weird.” He glanced away.
He thought he had been the awkward one? Had I given him the wrong impression by exiting the bed so abruptly?
“I liked waking up that way.” I took a long, slow sip of coffee before daring a glance in his direction.
His eyes were on me, clear and bright and serious in the morning sunlight. “I liked it too,” Todd said softly.
I wondered what he meant, but I was afraid to ask directly. I wouldn’t allow myself to read into his words. “Oh . . . good.”
“Ann.” His tone—flat and earnest—urged me to acknowledge something, but I was a ball of rubber-banded uncertainty; my emotions were too taut to risk stretching any further. I didn’t want to mess up as I had in Greece. I didn’t want to lose Todd all over again.
“Ann,” he repeated, tender this time.
“Yes?”
He reached for my face and traced a thumb along my bottom lip. I didn’t dare move, for fear that if I did, he’d pull away. But then he bent down and kissed me, and I was overcome. His lips were not as I had imagined, not pillowy or gentle; they were assertive. He devoured me with desire, drawing me closer as my limbs turned to liquid.
Too soon, Todd’s hold slackened, and he released me. Apprehension clouded my craving for more. I was sure he regretted what we’d just done. Yet when his eyes found mine, they were searching, as if he were trying to read my face. He appeared almost embarrassed by the kiss.
He was worried about me, I realized. My reaction. For all my self-doubt and restraint, there was no misreading his expression. He wanted this, but he wasn’t sure if I did too. His concern was endearing. As if I would be angry, the one who had already made plenty of hopeless attempts to do what he had just done.
After a few seconds studying my face, he frowned and stepped back. “Ann, I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have assumed—”
I moved into his personal space, pressing my body against his, and placed a hand on his chest.
“Are you—?”
“Yes,” I interrupted.
“Ann—”
“Yes.”
“I just—”
I kissed him, like a pinch to confirm I wasn’t dreaming. When I pulled back and saw a smile twist onto his face, I knew the dream was real.
I grasped his hand and led him back inside my apartment. The air was still thick from shower steam; it made me feel like we were worlds away from any place we’d been before, a jungle of bursting blooms and lushness.
I wanted him. I’d wanted him since the moment I met him.
After a few languid moments kissing at the foot of my bed, I reached for the hem of his sweater. He paused, releasing a slow breath, and grasped my face in his hands. “This isn’t just sex for me, Ann,” he said firmly.
“I know,” I said, but I hadn’t, not until he said it. “Me too.” That I did know.
I slid backward, out of his hold, and shrugged out of my robe. He stopped trying to speak, to tell me what this meant. I wanted him to show me what it meant.
He hovered above me, his arms braced on the pillow beside my head, sheltering and strong. My pulse was as loud as Niagara in my ears. The anticipation stole my breath.
I apologize if this is embarrassing to hear, Maggie. Will you allow an old woman to indulge in a memory?
I know I don’t need to describe the mechanics of it. He took a lot of time for me, I remember, which was so unlike other men. He might not have kissed me on the mouth the way I expected, but elsewhere, his lips were everything I’d imagined. Plush and featherlight. He lingered until waterfalls of warmth gushed through me. I had been holding myself back from Todd for years, trying to respect his space—then, with him that morning, all that effort broke open like a dam.
When we were face to face again, I don’t think I’d ever felt so seen. Understood. Cherished.
Empowered.
I felt like myself with Todd. My most confident, beautiful self. And there with me, he was his most beautiful self too. The connection we’d established in our letters made it all the clearer. Though it was not the first time I’d had sex, it was the first time I ever made love.
Afterward, he left the bed to clean up, and I lay there fearing that when he reemerged, the darkness would’ve returned to his eyes. I had not forgotten the closed-off expression I’d seen in Greece that could pass over his face like a storm cloud. He’d explained it all in his letters: a personal history so tragic I wondered if Todd would ever open himself up again. Would he regret opening up to me, both in writing and—today—in body?
Would I ever get to love him like that again?
He came out of the bathroom buck naked and whistling but halted when he saw me. “You okay, Copper?”
I must’ve had a strange look on my face, because he sat beside me and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “Should we not have . . . ?”
“No, that was great. I just . . .” I searched for a trace of darkness in his eyes.
He seemed to know what I meant. “I’ve wanted to be with you since, well, forever.”
“I don’t want you to regret . . .”
“Ann, I love you,” Todd said.
“You—what?”
“I love you.”
“You love me?” I sucked in a quick breath—helium.
“Yes.”
It should’ve been obvious, Maggie. He’d come to Rome, for god’s sake. The ultimate grand gesture. But I’d spent years denying myself this possibility. So when he said it, it just didn’t make sense. “As a friend?”
“No.” He drew me into a kiss. “Not like a friend.”
“Say it again?” I asked.
He met my eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I squeaked. “Are you sure?”
He laughed. “I’m sure.”
“What changed your mind?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, then pulled into a deeper smile. “Nothing,” he said. “I always loved you. I just got tired of denying it.”
I wanted to ask why he had denied it so long, but grief wasn’t linear. It didn’t have a timeline. So I simply basked in the glow of knowing Todd Langley loved me now. “I’m really glad you’re here,” I said.
“Me too.”
I could’ve stayed in bed with him all day, but he assured me we’d have plenty of time to explore each other later—for the afternoon, he wanted to explore Rome. I acquiesced, because I found it very hard to say no to this new version of Todd, the one that loved Ann.
We started along the river, stopping briefly at a to-go pizza place, where crisp rectangles were folded in half and handed to us in gritty brown paper. After eating, we walked the Ponte Sisto. I’d seen many couples cross the bridge holding hands but had never done so myself, not in all my time in Rome. When I admitted this to Todd, he laced his fingers with mine and squeezed tightly. We took our time, pausing every so often to touch the smooth marble railing and watch the Tiber flowing below us.
I remembered the couples I’d watched through the window at Carmella’s, the locked fingers and dreamy glances. I knew now what I had suspected: something had been missing from my relationships before. Now, all the romance of the world was within my reach.
We visited the Pantheon next, then drank macchiatos at a nearby café. Todd told me funny, blackmail-worthy stories about his and Keith’s shenanigans as best friends. On the table, our hands met, and he stroked my knuckles with his thumb, listening intently to my own travel stories: the time I accidentally ordered two pints of beer for breakfast in Spain, the time I boarded a train to Germany instead of Italy, and the time I inadvertently broke into the ancient Agora of Athens. We laughed and shared a pastry, and everything felt normal even though we hadn’t done this together before.
At Trevi Fountain, we sat on the wall and watched tourists pose for pictures. I hadn’t spent much time at Trevi—I tended to avoid touristy spots—but that day, I was mesmerized by the wild and docile chariot horses and Oceanus’s triumphant stance.
Before we left, Todd insisted we throw coins. The clear pool glittered with thousands of them. The story went that a coin tossed with the right hand over the left shoulder into the fountain would ensure a return to Rome.
“But I live in Rome,” I said, chuckling. “Of course I’ll return—I’m already here.”
“But if you ever leave, you’ll know it won’t be permanent.”
His comment reminded me of the terrible reality of our situation, something I hadn’t considered since he arrived at Carmella’s the night before: that I lived here, and Todd lived in Colorado.
“Come on,” Todd said. “Let’s do the tourist thing.”
I forced the worry from my mind. “All right.”
We sat side by side on the edge of the fountain, and Todd handed me a coin. We counted backward from three, flinging them over our shoulders with a plunk. The coins were an unspoken promise; someday, we’d be here again, together. It gave me hope that Todd and I would last.
We could figure out the distance.
Todd stood and offered his hand. I grasped it, and he pulled me straight into his arms, kissing me in a dramatic dip. I laughed against his mouth as he brought me upright.
“There’s a stellar gelato place nearby,” I said. “Interested?”
“Do they have stracciatella?”
“It would be a travesty if they didn’t.”
Todd pecked my cheek. “Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, we retraced our steps toward the Pantheon. Quick clouds brushed over the sun, dimming the sky intermittently. Light splayed in an odd patchwork across ancient marble and new stone, spotlights that brightened gold and faded into blue gray as we walked.
Beside me, Todd sighed and wrapped an arm around my waist, hooking a finger through the belt loop at my opposite hip. “What a stunning city. It must be nice to just wander around all day, not a care in the world.”
I prickled, craning my neck to study his expression, to see if he was kidding. He was staring ahead at the piazza we were approaching. Pigeons fluttered around as market vendors packed away their goods for the day.
“I have cares,” I said.
“Of course,” Todd said. “I just mean, it must be nice not to work. To simply enjoy Rome all the time.”
“I work . . .”
Todd unhooked his finger from my belt and glanced down at me. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make it sound like your writing isn’t work—”
“You make it sound like I’m here lollygagging my life away.” I didn’t want to argue, but I didn’t want Todd to think of me as a carefree rich girl, either. That stung.
“Aren’t you?” When he saw me frown, he added quickly, “I’m not trying to offend you, I’m just saying it must be nice.”
“I’m grateful for what I have here, Todd, but it’s not all cake and roses. I have expectations from Keith and my publisher. I tutor the neighborhood in English. I have a full life. I—”
“Whoa, hey,” Todd said, patting the air. “Never mind, okay?”
“No, I want to understand your opinion of me,” I pressed. “You think I’m entitled?”
He stopped and turned to me, his mouth twisted up in hesitation. “I think you’re privileged,” he said carefully. “You have to admit that the payout from your father was—”
“I’m incredibly lucky,” I cut in. His words were thorny on my heart. “But I’m not an airhead trust fund baby. You know my past. Don’t insinuate that I don’t recognize and appreciate what I have, what I’ve accomplished.”
“Ann,” Todd said, touching my arm. His fingers were firm and warm—soothing. “I think you’re the most amazing woman in the world. The things you’ve overcome, the things you’ve achieved . . . you’re strong, talented, courageous. I guess I’m just saying I’m jealous of this.” He swept a hand toward the beauty of the city, a spotlight of sun on the street ahead of us. “I wish I could travel more. Maybe go back to school. Do something bigger with my life. But I have the bookstore—my parents’ dream, their legacy—and I’m limited by that. I’m envious of the freedom you have.” Cautiously, he added, “And I hope you don’t waste this gift simply floating along.”
We stared at each other for a beat.
I reached into my purse and pulled out a cigarette. After a long inhale, I whispered, “Okay.” His words were sinking in through my pores, making me reevaluate these past few years. What had I done with my money, beyond traveling and squirreling it away? Had I enjoyed my time, or had I wasted it?
“I’m sorry.” Todd kissed my head again. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, this was meant to be a nice day, and I said the wrong thing.”
“It’s fine,” I repeated.
“It’s not fine. You should live your life how you want—I shouldn’t criticize that.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “Look at us, our first fight.”
I sighed a weak laugh. “Yeah.”
“We shouldn’t argue on a day like today. Forget what I said, all right?”
I nodded, but I couldn’t simply forget what he had said. His words bothered me because they struck a chord; they rang true. Though it rattled my pride, Todd was right: I should do something meaningful with my time and wealth. How could I give back? “I’m just glad you care enough to have an opinion,” I said.
“Of course I do.” He wrapped his arm around me once more. “Come. Where is this gelato place?”
“Oh.” I looked around. “We passed it.” I grasped his hand and led him down a side street, backtracking.
After ordering, we carried our cups to the piazza and sat on a stoop, warming to each other again. Pretty soon, we were sharing bites and kissing the sweetness off each other’s lips.
I thought about the last time we had gotten gelato together, six years ago in Venice. How different today was by comparison, full of love and surprise and depth. Full of care and real conversations. When I said as much, Todd hugged me close.
“I was an idiot back then,” he said.
“You were,” I agreed.
“Maybe I still am.”
“Maybe,” I said, and he laughed.
As we meandered home, we dipped into antique shops and leather-goods stores. It was sprinkling rain when we reached the Ponte Sisto, and we jogged the rest of the way to my apartment, laughing as we went.
For dinner, we snacked on prosciutto e melone and sipped wine. We chatted until the world outside was inky black and the lights inside glowed liquid gold. I basked in the warmth, blushing under Todd’s steadfast gaze. That night, the city didn’t exist beyond us.
When we turned out the lights, Todd guided me toward the bed. His mouth was wine sweet, and his hands splayed over my skin, firm and sure. We tasted and lingered and took all the time in the world, because that night, it felt as though the world was finally ours.
MAGGIE
The answers Jane sought were demons in a dark room. Perhaps it was better to leave the lights off. Perhaps it was better to lock the door behind her.
—Excerpt from Chasing Shadows, by Ann Fawkes
San Juan Island, Washington State, USA
Tuesday, January 9, 2024
Maggie leans against the hood of her car, watching the sun set and the sea become more turbulent. She left Ann’s house twenty minutes ago and drove to Westside Preserve, a rocky outcrop along the island’s main circumferential road. The location is private, cleansing.
They covered a lot of ground in Ann’s story this afternoon—ground that should’ve been recorded, but Ann’s story was the perfect distraction from their deal: Maggie talks to Tracey, and Ann talks to Grant.
Between reading letters and listening, during the tea breaks and pee breaks, Maggie has racked her mind all day as to what to say to her parents. What is there to say? It’s a conversation she’s been avoiding for practically her whole life—because it’s painful, frightening, uprooting. The anguish of not knowing her family’s truth has always seemed like the better choice. But now, Maggie has no choice. Either have an honest conversation with Tracey about the past or forfeit the podcast.
