I did it.
Finally, all my work could be summed up in a thirty-page, photo heavy, research driven purple portfolio. Sitting at my desk, nose nicely healed and airways all the way open, I laid both palms on top of it and sighed my thanks. It had taken me a final two weeks and Jade’s assistance with the Powerpoint to really lay it out, and as a last touch, Becca’s final opinions and approval. I’d also given it to Spence—nervously—for his thoughts, and while a black and white carousel theme wasn’t exactly his idea of his own super-cool birthday party, seeing his lips curve over the laptop as he scrolled through was better than any A+.
While the go-ahead from Ming was of the utmost importance, it felt good to have my friends and boyfriend behind me. Yes, boyfriend. They were individuals who wouldn’t lie to make me feel better, or fake enthusiasm so as not to hurt my feelings. If Becca hated it, she’d say so. If Spence thought it could be improved upon, he’d lay a supportive arm across my shoulders and explain how much I sucked before seducing me and making me forget he’d ever insulted my creativity in the first place. Not to say they kept their mouths shut—my first few drafts these last couple of weeks went through exactly that, except Becca made sure to ply me with wine first and Spence ensured I was exhausted from major sexual foreplay.
Yet, they were right. Nothing comes out perfectly the first time, and spraying blow-up unicorns with ultraviolet neon paint wasn’t the most creative I could offer.
I went to bed that night at a reasonable hour for the first time in weeks, and not simply because I’d completed my first proposal as a semi-official event planner. Or maybe event opinionator. In any event, I had something to give Ming, a theme I was proud of, and that felt like the success of excellence.
More importantly, Spence assisted me in filing a report to the university regarding Ed Carver. I didn’t like to dwell on it too much—not when there was so much positivity in my life to look forward to—but it also couldn’t be ignored. Ed’s approaches might have started out as mild, but they were escalating. However, his actions weren’t enough for a temporary restraining order, and I’d never seen Spence rein in his frustration with such whip-like speed. He knew the law better than anyone around me, and even he couldn’t argue the point that what Ed was doing wasn’t to the point of police intervention. Stalking laws, as wonderful as it was to have them in place, were already antiquated with the advent of social media and the open access to victims where all one needed was a basic grasp of technology. Essentially, I wasn’t attacked or harassed enough, so there was nothing that could be done from a legal standpoint.
Ed hadn’t appeared since that rainy night. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d dropped out of college and moved. He didn’t show up to Harper’s classes, if he was even a student of Harper’s, and if he was lurking in the hallways around me, he was a ghost. I hoped Spence hadn’t confronted or threatened Ed without my knowledge, because while I wanted Spence’s help, I didn’t want that kind. It could only lead to worse outcomes.
Regardless, in the last month, with each day that went by with no Ed sightings, a delicate shawl of safety laid itself across my shoulders—one that could be ripped away by the wind at any moment, yes, but for now it was there. I kept close to Becca and Jade when we were out and spent most of my nights at Spence’s, or Spence at mine. If Ed was going to attempt anything, he’d have to get through three very protective zombie hunters first.
Morning came quickly, bright, golden light beaming through the cracks in the blinds. I woke up minutes before my alarm and leapt out of bed, eager to meet Ming at the coffee shop and hand over my Precious. I showered, dressed in black denim and a loose chambray shirt, blew dry my hair, and after a light makeup application, I was out the door before Becca or Jade even stirred.
I wanted to get to the cafe early and go over any last improvements before Ming got there. What I did not anticipate was Ming sitting inside the window as I rounded the corner.
“Fuck,” I said, and as she caught my eye and fluttered her fingers in a wave, I hoped she couldn’t read lips.
“Ming,” I said when I entered and approached her. She was in basic black slacks and a white men’s workshirt, buttons open to a deep V that revealed a stack of silver, gold, and rose gold necklaces. She also sported a black top-hat, that while tragically hipster on me, she could pass off as hidden celebrity. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be earlier than me.”
Her thin lips lifted with a fleeting smile. “This is my third cup of java.”
“Right. I should catch up. I’m just going to…put this here.” I unloaded my messenger bag on the seat across from her. “Be right back. Oh—can I get you another one?”
Subtly, she nodded. I wondered why she didn’t add sunglasses to fully encompass the enigma aura.
The shop wasn’t crowded, as it wasn’t exam time when even the most slacker of slackers rushed to funnel caffeine while they digested textbooks. I had both our orders in less than three minutes, and was back with Ming.
“I’ll get right into it,” I said, lifting the messenger bag to my lap. I pulled out the proposal—a nice, dark purple I thought she’d appreciate, and handed to her. She accepted it silently. “How about you skim through, let me know your initial thoughts, and we’ll go from there.”
Ming said nothing, instead moving her coffee to the side and opening the portfolio. Her expression revealed nothing. It was as stoney as it was after her third cup of coffee. I hid my large gulp behind my cardboard cup, but underneath the table, my knees were bopping uncontrollably.
“Well,” she said. At last.
Ming had reached the last page, and closed the book with a prolonged sweep.
“Yes?” I said. I rattled around, finding my notepad and pen. Wishing I hadn’t forgotten to charge Spence’s iPad last night. “What are your thoughts?”
“I didn’t have much faith in Jade when she suggested her friend attempt to plan my party.”
Blunt as the tip of a professional chef’s butcher knife. Eesh.
I set my shoulders straight. “I can understand that. I’m not promising a top vendor’s kind of suave. But I laid out every single idea that popped into my head the moment I met you, and I can say confidently that this is damned cool. If it doesn’t fit—”
I stopped. With such a blank slate of a face, I had no idea if Ming was about to leap over the table and claw my eyes out or applaud the theme.
“Compliments aren’t really my thing,” she said as she opened up the portfolio again. “But I think you comprehended that as soon as you committed to this…creative spark of yours. Somehow, you’ve managed to take my childhood favorite memory and turn it into a nightmare.”
My gulp couldn’t be disguised this time. “Well—when you mentioned the carousel with your dad, riding the horses and the music, I was originally thinking some kind of Barnum and Bailey kaleidoscope of color, but to be honest, it didn’t fit. I tried, I know your parents would enjoy something like that, but it’s your party, so I wanted to meet somewhere in the middle—”
“You saw the darkness in me. My preference for the night.”
“I…right. Yes.”
“I love it.”
I uncurled my spine. “You do?”
“This.” She pressed an ebony-manicured nail into a particular photo of a ghastly carnival horse with fangs. “I want to take a paint gun to it right now.”
“Good, you caught that part,” I said, smiling wide. “I thought that’d be fun, to have everything black and white, but to give your guests small balloons filled with neon paint or similar, and just let loose under ultra-violet light. But…uh…” I wasn’t looking forward to this part. “Although I found all the vendors you need, it came in slightly over-budget.”
“I don’t care about that. I’m taking this to my father tonight.”
My heart bounced with glee. “Awesome. Now let’s talk about the food.” I pulled out my phone and leaned over the table. “There’s this amazing caterer I’ve been following on Instagram…”
And for the rest of the morning, I was able to plan, in complete detail, my first party.
Seven cups of coffee later (two were mine), Ming departed as seamlessly as I pictured a princess walking through Hades’s court.
There were a few papers and pens strewn about our table, so I went about gathering up my things and tossed our empty cups in the trash. As I was turning around, I spotted a familiar black cap.
I went still and clutched my tote tighter to my chest. Trev’s back was facing me and there was no way he could sense my presence. Besides, he was seriously engrossed in the woman seated across, someone I thought I’d seen in a few of my business classes: reddish hair, light eyes, tall and sinewy. My complete opposite. Good.
I walked by as if I hadn’t seen Trev, maybe with a bit too much two-step as I passed. My periphery caught him angling, his eyes glancing up at me, but he remained in his seat. In fact, as I surreptitiously turned when pushing open the door to outside, Trev had gone back to his conversation, his lips moving as if nothing had ever broken his concentration.
All signs pointed to positive. Hopefully, Trev was moving on and my only glimpses of him from hereon out would be in the corners of coffee shops, or a blur in a bar, or a bobbing head in school hallways, nothing more.
It was sad that six years could be diluted to this. Remembrances, according to Spence, were better left untouched. But Trev made an impression of firsts on me and I couldn’t forget the initial brushes I had of love.
I would, however, move past him.
Good-bye, Trev.
With the crisp breeze and bright sun of a fading winter on my cheeks, I turned the corner and made my way home, to a beginning where things might just be perfect the second time.