Chapter Four - Anthony
I’ve always wanted to live in this house. Growing up, it was the biggest house I’d ever seen, and I used to think about what it would be like to live here. I wondered what the rooms looked like, what it would be like to be someone who could afford that much for themselves. When I’d heard it was up for sale, it had felt like a sign: now really was the right time to move back home. It’s mine now, the largest house inside the town limits, sprawling and grand and even better than I’d once imagined.
Of course, as a little boy in rural Alabama, I hadn’t really known anything about luxury. Nothing about what made some furniture better than other furniture, about lighting or room composition or marble tiling. I understood all of these things now. I’d been in so many beautiful homes in New York – the apartment David and I had just left was one of them – but none of them matched the class and elegance of this house. I was thrilled to be living here, to put all my sleek modern furniture against its walls and fill its rooms with things for David and myself.
There are several rooms I want to be dedicated to him. I want him to have space to grow and learn and explore. I’m already planning on redoing the backyard next summer and putting in an elaborate playscape for him. I want every detail to be perfect when I do. I want every detail to be perfect in every inch of the house. I’m really hoping this can be a permanent change. I’ve made more money than I ever imagined by telling other people how to run their businesses. I grew my firm from the ground up. I made numerous hot-under-thirty mover-and-shaker lists. I’ve been on the cover of magazines. I’ve given talks at colleges about making one’s own success. Now, taking a step back feels like the right thing.
I’ll still be at the helm, and I can take video calls and work from the elaborate home office I’m planning, but I’m really looking forward to not being in the office – and the limelight – every day. I’ve been using work as an escape, and I’m hoping that by being home, I won’t feel like I need to escape anything anymore.
I take David to stay at my parent’s house for a bit, and I take a long walk through town. I want to reacquaint myself with these streets, these sights that were once so familiar. I walk past the little store I used to shop in, the playgrounds and the benches, the fountain in the center of town that only operates on weekends, the handful of restaurants and bars that dot the streets forming the main business district. I remember being a kid and biking past these places. Most of them look exactly the same. Catching my own reflection in the windows, for a moment, I can almost see myself as that skinny kid with no idea of what life would bring.
I head toward the high school, not able to think of myself as that kid without thinking about my best friend back then, Brooke, and wondering how she is. I think she still lives in town, but I don’t know much other than that. I’ve known a lot of people in my life and I’ve had a lot of friends in New York, but I still think about Brooke often. I never felt anything quite like the friendship we’d had with each other again. In high school, I’d been pretty sure I was in love with her, but I’d never said anything. I sometimes wondered what would have happened if I had, or even what would have happened if we’d stayed in touch.
The high school looks exactly the same, just like everything does. I find myself wondering if Brooke still looks the same – if she’s still as pretty as last time I had seen her, hugging her tight and promising we’d always be best friends. I wonder when I’ll see her. If she is still in town, it’s inevitable that I’ll run into her soon. It’s small and quiet here. You run into everyone all the time.
I head to the grocery store, wanting to grab a few things before I pick up David. It’s smaller than I remember, and the food choices seem sparse compared to all of New York’s options, but it makes me smile anyway. I walk the aisles and see a few people give me a once-over before their eyes light up with recognition. None of them come over, but I’m sure they’ll all be talking about how I really am home and standing in the grocery store in a shirt that costs more than my first car had. Gossip has always traveled fast here.
Rounding the corner to the frozen food, my eyes hang on the figure of a woman bending down, reaching for ice cream. It’s hard to look away, given her perfect curves and amazing ass. She’s exceptional, even considering all the beautiful women I’ve been surrounded by for years. The woman straightens and turns her head toward me. I freeze for a second. Because it’s Brooke. My Brooke. My best friend. The person I was closest with in the world as a teenager. She looks incredible. She’s more than pretty now. She’s grown up to be stunning, and I catch myself staring.
She stares back like she can’t quite believe it’s me either. I swallow, taking in all of her. Her features are sharper, more defined. Her eyes are wide, and though tired, they’re gorgeous. For what feels like too long, we just look at each other in the frozen foods aisle, neither of us talking.
“Hi,” I finally manage.
“Hi,” she says back. Her voice sounds the same, and it brings back a rush of memories all at once, overwhelming me. I still don’t know what to say.
“You’re . . . ”I stop and shake my head, feeling stupid. “I have to get this food home,” I stammer, turning and almost running out of the store.
It’s not the smoothest move – in fact, it’s absurd and unlike me – but it’s all I can manage at the moment. Suddenly, all I can think about is Brooke. I hadn’t known seeing her would affect me like that, but it’s like she’s the only channel in my brain. And all we said to each other was hello.