twenty-two
I stood a minute outside of Lou’s. James had left, and I could no longer see his back as he made his way along nearly empty sidewalks, back to Saffron to catch some sleep on the couch in his office before beginning again. Despite his own brutal schedule, he’d insisted again that I head back to the Gansevoort to rest until noon. It wasn’t yet six, and the thought of the 1,000-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets waiting for me made me light-headed with longing. But I found myself walking in the opposite direction, down streets just starting to wake, toward the Hudson.
James’s words filled my thoughts as I walked. This isn’t a back-and-forth thing, I heard him say over and over, knowing he was right and wanting him to be wrong. Of course this first push was going to be intense. I knew that was true, and I’d thought I was prepared for it. After all, the last few months in Iowa hadn’t exactly been full of beach chairs and mai tais. I’d been working my tail off there too. I frowned with those thoughts, defensive for myself and for all the people in Silver Creek who had nurtured the beginning stages of this business.
I stepped off a curb and startled at the brash honk of a horn. I clutched my heart and mouthed an apology to the cabdriver who had needed to brake to save my life. The driver lifted his hands in annoyance before continuing down the street, and I paused, leaning up against the crosswalk sign I’d completely ignored. I could see the river walk along the Hudson from where I stood. Looking three times back and forth this time, I crossed the street, beelining for the river and the wide path where I would have a much harder time endangering my life.
I walked along the path for a while, no longer alone. Joggers and bikers, eager to sweat before the start of another workday, passed on both sides of me. The sun had not yet risen, but darkness was losing its battle and the light falling around us was soft, delicate, the pale gray-blue of an early summer morning.
I sat on a bench facing the river. Remnants of old pier pilings dotted the water, dark spots on a deep gray surface that would soon be suffused with light. I watched the water and thought about James’s advice. Not advice, I thought ruefully, as much as an ultimatum. Be here, be available, be all in, or . . . what? Expect to fail? Leave? Go back to the barn and hope another offer comes along?
I reached into my pocket for my phone and made a few taps on the screen.
Tucker answered right away. “Good morning!” He sounded like he’d been awake for hours. “What is with you, woman? I mean, this time works for me. In fact, I’ve already had my second cup of coffee. But don’t you ever have time to call when it’s not dark outside?”
I smiled, letting my spine curve into the bench, relaxing at the sound of his voice. “Not exactly,” I said. “City that never sleeps and all that.”
His laugh was low. “So it’s true what they say? I thought that was just a good slogan for a T-shirt.”
“Tuck, I miss you,” I said, feeling those words to the very center of me.
“I miss you too,” he said. “It’s embarrassing, really. Apparently I am showing how much I miss you on my face. Pete at work has taken to calling me Hangdog.”
I laughed. “That’s awesome.”
“No,” he corrected, “that’s emasculating. But when I try to change things up and smile, Pete says that’s worse and that I look like I’ve just swallowed something rancid.”
I was fully laughing by now. “Surely it’s not that noticeable.”
“Myrna brought me a casserole,” he said. “It’s noticeable.”
The sun broke over the horizon, just a sliver, but the change in the view was remarkable. I watched as the pale yellow, vibrant orange, and notes of fuchsia shimmered across the water to where I sat.
“Other than your obvious depression,” I said, enjoying our ease and not wanting to tiptoe into choppier waters, “how are things in Silver Creek?”
“Oh, you know,” he said. “Raucous and unpredictable, just like always. I ran into Natalie and Erin in town last night.”
“I thought it wise to leave when Erin started in on the benefits of essential oils. She also seemed concerned about the Hangdog issue. Natalie seemed less concerned. A little miffed, now that I think about it.”
I giggled.
I could hear his porch door creak as he continued. “I helped the twins with their air conditioner yesterday. It was switching to heat without rhyme or reason, and apparently they let it go for a week before calling me. Didn’t want to bother, Madge said. Ninety degrees inside felt a lot like ninety outside, according to Bev.” He laughed. “I’d bet they slept a lot better last night.”
I said nothing, preoccupied with the thought that I hadn’t slept at all yet and that I might have more repeat performances of that schedule in the weeks ahead. After a few beats, Tucker spoke carefully into the silence.
“Gracie, what’s going on? You’re awful quiet. Is there something on your mind?”
“I had a talk with James.”
Tucker was silent.
I sighed. “I guess he didn’t say anything earth-shattering. I suppose I knew all of it on some level already.”
“Knew what?”
“He says I need to be here. In New York. Pretty much all of the time.”
Tucker waited for me to continue and when I didn’t, he said, “So no Friday flights?”
“Not now,” I said, then rushed onward. “I hate to think of it like that. It sounds so permanent. But it’s not. It’s just for a while. Just until things are really up and running and I’m not needed on emergency status all the time.”
“Are we talking for the rest of this month? The rest of the summer?”
I swallowed hard. “Longer than that, I think. I mean, I can visit. Just not every weekend.” I was starting to scramble, both in word and in my thoughts.
“Gracie, what are you saying?” There was a quiet urgency in his voice.
“I don’t know.” My heart was starting to race. A couple biked by and came close enough to nearly clip the tips of my shoes. I inhaled sharply, another rush of adrenaline propelling my words. “Tuck, I have loved our time together the last couple of months. As in, I’ve loved it more than any other thing I’ve loved in a long time.”
I was greeted with more silence on the other end of the line. After what felt like an eternity, I said, “What are you thinking? Talk to me, Tucker.”
Tucker groaned a bit. “What a fool,” he said, almost to himself. “I can’t believe how stupid I am.”
“What do you mean?” I straightened. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
“I mean,” he said slowly, and then stopped with a sigh. “I mean I should have been more careful, that’s all.”
“Just a minute.” I stood up and walked along the row of benches. “It’s not like we are breaking things off or stopping or whatever. That’s not at all what I’m saying. I’m just trying to be honest here. Just being clear that we won’t be able to see each other as much as we were thinking, in the short term.”
“The short term of a year or more.” He sounded resigned.
“Tucker, come on.” I was walking faster now. “This shouldn’t be a huge deal, right? I mean, we’re just starting out. It’s only been a couple of months, right?”
“A couple of months plus ten years.” I didn’t need to see him to know he was taking off his ball cap and running a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Gracie, maybe time moves differently for you, but for me, this has not been just a couple of months, some fling or some cozy reminder of the good old days.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” I heard irritation creeping into my voice. Didn’t he realize this wasn’t my first choice either? That I wasn’t getting what I wanted either?
“The night before you left?” Tucker said in a rush. “When we were eating at Gigi’s and you got the call from James? Remember?”
“Of course I do,” I sputtered, not knowing where he was headed with this.
“That night. I’d been thinking and that night—” He stopped abruptly and was silent. When he spoke again he sounded tired. “I was so distracted by how good everything was, I forgot to watch out for the inevitable.”
“That’s not fair,” I said, feeling my pulse quicken as I walked. “You make it sound like I never planned on staying.”
“Stay, go, that’s not really the point, is it?” I could hear the anguish in his voice. “I want you to love who you are and where you are. I thought you’d found that place when you were here, but I was wrong. You were wrong. It was so good, Gracie.” He stopped. I could hear myself breathing hard while I waited. “The kind of good that made me forget all sorts of red flags and worries and past mistakes. That good. But it wasn’t real.”
“I can visit,” I said again, grasping. “We can call and text every day.”
“This isn’t summer camp, Grace.”
“You’re not even going to give it a chance?” My eyes were blurring with tears. I stopped, leaned heavily against the railing separating the path from the river.
“We’re not kids anymore,” he said, brusque. “We can’t see each other once a month, once every other month, and build anything worth keeping. It’s been great, right?” I heard the hurt in his voice. I closed my eyes, pushing a wash of tears over the surface and down my cheeks.
“I’m ridiculously proud of you and of your success,” he said more gently, and I believed him. “You’re going to conquer the world, Gracie. And I’m not interested in being the one to hold you back.”
“Good-bye, Kleren. Take good care of yourself.”
He hung up before I could say any more.
I watched the water, now taking on the same deep blue that was filling the sky. Tears streamed down my face. The light over the water became more insistent. The brightness hurt my eyes, mocking me with the start of a new day that was already marred with an ache deep in my chest. I still clutched my phone in my hand. I looked at it for a long moment while hovering my finger over his number to call him back. We could work through this. We could figure out a way to make it click, make what we’d started in Iowa continue across the miles and the days.
My hand still poised to dial, I looked to my left, toward the city. Manhattan gleamed, resplendent in the early morning. Myriad windows reflected the orange light of the sunrise, and the top of the Freedom Tower rose in triumph, spine straight and determined. I pushed my shoulders back as a reflex, then put both hands on my cheeks to wipe away the tears.
He’s right, I thought. It wasn’t going to work and the sooner we faced that fact, the kinder we were being to ourselves. I filled my lungs with a slow, ragged breath and let that reality slip into the tattered edges of my thoughts.
It couldn’t work.
A couple sweet months of heady nostalgia couldn’t compete with The Dream. The dream my mom had had for me and the dream I’d nurtured for over a decade. I tucked my phone into my pocket and began a slow walk back in the direction I’d come. This dream was an old and weathered one, and it weighed heavily. I’d been caught up in the moment in Silver Creek, looking around corners I’d rounded long ago, reveling in something that wasn’t even practical anymore.
Tucker was a beautiful person. But he wasn’t my person. I owed him that much at least, the recognition that I wasn’t able to give him what he deserved.
We were adults, he’d said. I felt exhaustion seep into me as I turned away from the water and toward a spot where I could hail a cab. Adults with real lives, real jobs, real responsibilities. Adults who could suck it up and do hard things, including putting away the hopes and fantasies of teenage kids. I took one look back at the river before turning fully toward the city. It was waiting for me.