Page 25 of Second Tide's the Charm
“Why?” Her voice is deceptively innocent. “He’s single, right? Or did I miss that in my snooping?”
Blood thuds in my temples, obscuring rational thought. Zuri would never flirt with someone I dated, no matter how attractive. “Yes.” The word leaks past my clenched teeth. “But—”
“But he’s Adrian,” she says. “And you’re not over him.”
My mouth falls open, face ablaze. She was baiting me, and I totally swallowed the hook. “You say that like it’s reasonable.” My lack of denial stings my own eardrums.
“Love is never reasonable.”
Love is not a word in my current vocabulary. Regard. Esteem. Civility. Those apply. “Who said anything about love? What I feel for him is an attachment I need to break.”
“Sometimes I think you forget that you are not your parents.” They met in high school. Went to colleges on opposite sides of the state, but after a year apart, missed each other so much that they sacrificed hefty scholarships and switched to a more affordable two-year school where they could be together. If you hear them tell it, it’s the love story of the century, but I never saw it that way.
“And for the record,” Zuri continues, “what they have together isn’t so bad.” There’s an edge to her voice, and I bite my lip. She married her high school sweetheart and settled in our hometown, but that’s where the similarity ends. She started her own business and chased her dreams alongside her husband.
My parents never seemed to have any ambition beyond marriage and raising me. I’m grateful for their love, and I know putting their all into each other and our family fulfills them, but I could never be content to subsist on love alone. Sooner or later, I’d have to compromise like they did, settle for a diluted version of my dreams.
“I know. But somewhere along the way they convinced themselves they’d be happier with a different life than what they wanted at first.”
“They fell in love,” Zuri says, proving my point.
But while I never wanted that path for myself, I’d never disparage what Zuri had with Eric, or my parents for the love they share. “If we had moved in together during my doctoral studies, what would happen when I finished? He’d be established in the area, but I’d be looking for a postdoc position. He’d have to leave his job, or I’d have to settle for whatever I could find nearby.”
The bitter memory of our last argument comes to mind, him telling me I was focused on the problems, not a solution, and me unable to see why he thought ahead in all things, but wasn’t worried about how we’d manage our relationship and careers once I finished school. I push the memory aside and head for my car with the intent of stress-devouring some real Southern barbecue after this conversation.
“You were willing to move across the country to help me,” Zuri says.
“But I knew that wouldn’t be forever. You’d find your feet, and wouldn’t need me.”
“So you’re scared of forever?”
Another resident is approaching, and I wait for them to pass, smile pasted on my face, though inside I’m reeling from being called out. I hold the phone closer, not wanting to admit this aloud. “I was never one of those people who wanted to find a person and build my life around them. And then I met Adrian and despite all my best efforts, I was starting to.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It’s not what I envisioned.”
“Envisioned when? When you were eighteen?” Her skepticism feels unwarranted. Some people know what they want from the start. “You can always revisit your hypothesis. Relationships are fluid. They change over time, just like people do. Love is the constant.”
Except, it wasn’t. Adrian’s love is gone. All that’s left between us is the sticky complication of residual familiarity and one-sided lust. “I liked it better when we didn’t talk about this.” I detour past the parking lot to the pine grove to the side of the complex and plop down on a shady bench.
“You kind of took away that option when you decided to work with him.” Murmuring comes from her end of the line, and her next words are muffled, spoken to someone else. “Just a minute, sweetie. Grab your books and I’ll be right in.” There’s a rustle, then she says, “If you’re committed to seeing this through, I know you’ll find a way to make it work, regardless of your feelings.”
Adrian and I fell in love while working on a summer shark study. This time, I need to devise a formula to reverse the process.
thirteen
adrian
One day. I went one day without Hope after years, and yet I’m already craving her like oxygen. The wise thing to do would be to stay away, see her only in the context of the field study. Unfortunately, she’s staying at my cousin’s all summer, and tonight Marissa is hosting pizza night, a monthly tradition that often includes brainstorming sessions.
It would’ve been wise to stay away this time, but my excuse for not skipping was the giant pile of dirty clothes by my closet. My washer gave out last week, and I haven’t gotten around to getting it fixed. May as well do laundry here and save a trip to the laundromat. Besides, I promised Hope I would treat her like any other colleague. If she was any other scientist stepping in for the summer, I’d be eager to make her feel welcome in our tight-knit crew, and pizza night is the perfect icebreaker.
I transfer the load of towels to the dryer and leave my hideout before the others start to wonder what’s up. The moment I arrived, Marissa informed me tonight we’re making homemade pizza rather than ordering in—team building, she called it. Really just a way to get Hope and I used to each other through forced proximity, like building up an immunity.
Marissa stationed me on dough duty at the opposite end of the counter from Hope, who’s perched on a barstool, her hair freed from its usual ponytail and floating around her shoulders in juicy curls. She’s smiling wide at Gabe’s favorite story—how diving with a whale shark led him to a career shift from land to sea—and the rapt look on her face, lush lips parted, eyes sparkling with interest, has me transfixed.
Next to me, Marissa’s rinsing cherry tomatoes in a colander. She bumps my shoulder and mutters, “Quit staring, creep.”
