Page 78 of Second Tide's the Charm
Reconciling with Adrian felt like the perfect choice at the time, and I don’t regret my decision for a moment, but everything is so new and tender—mere days stacked against years of separation, that I’m desperate for Zuri’s take—for validation that I’m not losing my mind in losing my heart to Adrian again.
I’m hoping to catch her in the small window after she drops her kids off with her aunt for the day and before she gets caught up in whatever crisis awaits her on a busy summer morning.
The rhythmic roll of gentle waves against my ankles hasn’t settled my uncharacteristic nerves about the call, but Zuri’s unconventional, “Is he our friend or foe?” greeting has me smiling. She’s my best friend. Whatever happens—is happening—with Adrian, she’s got my back. And truly, I’m excited to share the news. Tentatively excited. Honestly, I could use reassurance that I’m not malfunctioning with how right this feels.
While I’m working out my reply, she keeps digging. “I mean, last I heard he saved you from a hurricane—”
“Tropical storm. To qualify as a hurricane, wind gusts have to exceed—”
“We’re saying the same thing.” Her brush-off has me chuckling. “I need to know if your friendship survived the storm.” The jangle of keys comes through the phone, and Zuri’s voice is muffled for a moment. “Because a few weeks ago you were ranting about a deep yearning to throw him overboard.”
“I never said that.” Not explicitly.
“It was the general vibe of your texts. That, and ‘my ex is too hot for his own good.’”
“Myown good,” I clarify. “Being sexy is not cramping his style whatsoever. And also—” I cast a glance toward the horizon, lip caught between my teeth “—he’s not my ex. Currently.”
“Not your ex,” she repeats. “Currently.” Not a question, but delivered with the implicit expectation that I explain myself.
I oblige, letting the gentle pull of the waves lead me a few steps into the water. “We talked, after the storm.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “Talked, huh?”
“Yes, talked.” My cheeks are blistering, and the sun’s not even up. She’s jumped into teasing me with all the gusto of a middle-aged dad cannonballing off a springboard. I’ll have to remember this when she decides to venture into the dating pool again.
“Okay.” Zuri stretches out the word, humoring me. “And during thistalk, what happened?” I don’t need to be in the same room as her to detect the air quotes she puts around the wordtalk, but I take the chance to get to the heart of what I called about.
“Things got pretty serious.” I recall the heaviness of the moment, before he took my hands in his. The years of uncertainty, on both our parts. “I mean, this is not just any guy. This is Adrian. We dated for almost six years. So starting over feels seriously high-stakes.”
Wind cuts through the speaker, like she’s walking outside. “That’s what you’re doing? Starting over?” Her tone gives nothing away.
“Yeah, it is. We both agreed it’s what we want. What we’ve wanted, for a long time.” Sand shifts under my feet and I walk backward to firmer ground. “I know it’s the opposite of what I came down here for, and maybe it shouldn’t feel this way, but, Zuri, it feels right.” Putting my trust in feelings is new, but putting my trust in Adrian is not, and I’m holding tight to that.
She’s silent for a long moment, and when I can’t take it anymore, which is probably about three seconds, I ask, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering what changed. You were adamant you couldn’t adjust your life for him, for anyone, and you don’t even know where you’re headed in the fall.”
All of that is true, except one thing. “My heart changed. I realized that the only thing holding me back was my doubts, not Adrian. Three years ago, he was willing to move to be with me near whichever PhD program I chose. He didn’t try to steer my choices, or confine me.”
“But now he’s an assistant professor. He runs that channel with Marissa, and her job is there.”
I was nervous to tell Zuri all this, but part of me really thought she’d be happy for me. “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt. To make sure you’re thinking this through.” Fear prickles inside me. Worries that love was muddling my decision-making is what I struggled with last time, and now, when I thought I went in with my eyes wide open, she’s accusing me of my worst fear.
“That’s in the future,” I protest. “We just started dating again.”
“But when it comes down to it, what if he doesn’t want to come to you? Are you willing to compromise, and go to him? Or will it always be him making the concession, until he starts to resent you?” It’s as if she’s seen inside my heart and exposed everything that made me doubt.
But this time, I’m choosing to believe that we can make different choices. That we can make a future together. “I don’t know yet how it will work,” I admit. “All I know is I spent three years without him, and it didn’t make me happier. It didn’t feel like freedom.” Saying this aloud strengthens my resolve that this is the right choice. “I’m at my best when we’re together, and I trust us enough to find a way.”
“Then I’m happy for you.” Zuri’s approval comes through crystal clear, though I’m having trouble believing I heard her right until she adds, “Really, truly, incredibly happy for you.”
I throw my arm up in the air. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’?”
“What was all the getting-inside-my-head questions like you were the psychiatrist from my nightmares?”
