I do not come by when Bryan has his daughter. It is an unspoken rule. I see her on the lawn of the school. I see her jumping rope on the sidewalk. I watch from the window as Bryan races her back and forth. Every day, for a week they do this. I wonder if she is interested in the track team. Her mother was.

I write down the things they do. It’s a habit, a people watching habit. I always carry a moleskin notebook in my back pocket when I leave the house. I can only write believable characters in my work by absorbing others. This is the relationship I am most familiar with, watching them takes me back. A father and a daughter. A smiling girl. His daughter has light hair. Like him. Like her mother’s. Sometimes I see Bryan glance at my house. I wonder what he wonders. I debate taking Beau for a walk. Casually running into them across the street. But I cannot insert myself into this part of his life. I cannot latch on.

Today I push boundaries. I take my coffee onto the front porch. I drink it slowly, reading the newspaper. It’s what my father did, though never in the mornings, but I need to feel close to him. At night, I will bring him the paper so he can have his routine. So I can be a part of it.

Across the street Bryan and his daughter are loud. They have a hose, and they laugh as they wash his truck. His truck that never moves. It’s so odd.

My sister walks outside, catching me. “I wasn’t sure where you were. I smelled the coffee. God, I needed it. I was up way too late last night going through photos. Dad took so many. I miss those days. Everyone has their pictures on their phones now. I’m glad I went to school before cell phones and all of that.”

“Yeah. You’re a fossil now, aren’t you?” I laugh to myself.

“Watch it. You’re no spring chicken.” She takes a seat next to me.

“Thirty is the new twenty. Didn’t you know?”

“Ah, to be thirty again.”

“The middle ages must have been nice. Cozy.”

“Your ‘you’re old’ jokes are running out of steam. They’re kind of lame these days.”

I shrug. “You’re right.”

“You’re obsessing.” She stares ahead, looking where I won’t look.

“Yes.”

“What is it about him anyway? I’ve never actually seen him in person. He looks, yeah, I guess I can see the appeal. Nice arms. He’s tall.”

“If you were into boys, would you be into him?”

“No. I’ve heard too many of your stories. He sounds wishy-washy and I don’t have time for that shit. Find someone who is sure of you and you’re golden.”

“I’m glad you have that. I miss living with you guys.”

“We miss having you. It’s a little boring without your drama. I called Amber last night and told her the latest on you.”

I laugh at her. “I didn’t have drama. I had…exciting stories. And did she have my back this time? She always did.”

“That’s the thing,” she says, ignoring my question. “You know those people who say ‘I hate drama’? Those are the people who have the most drama in their lives. And, sister, you have a shit ton. And you bring it on yourself, really. I think you need it.”

“Ouch.” I fold the newspaper, set it on the table between our chairs.

“No one knows you like I do, Sev. You can move away and you can hide in your words and you can create a shit storm of epic proportions. But I will always know who you are and I will point out what needs to be pointed out.”

“Okay. You’re right. And this is why I fucking love you, honestly.”

“You ever have that lunch with the brother?” I showed her Ben’s Facebook profile. We talked about my past with him. The way he saved me from a shit night and a lone walk into a gym of staring eyes. Did I ever thank him properly? Maybe that was long overdue.

“No,” I reply, watching Bryan. “Maybe I will today.” I reach for my phone, search for Ben’s number. It’s 9 a.m. and I don’t feel hungry. I often drink coffee for breakfast when I am feeling self-destructive. When I am lost in the mess of my life. And things are getting messier and messier now.

“That’s a good idea. I want to have lunch with Dad alone today.”

“You ditching me?”

“No. I just, sometimes I get so caught up in worrying about you, I can’t focus on him fully.”

“I’m a big girl, Sash. You don’t have to worry about me.” But I know she is right. I’ve seen her do this for me too many times.

“That’s never going to happen. I just, I want a lunch alone with Dad.”

“It’s no big deal. I was just messing with you. I’ll see if Ben is free. Maybe then I can go into town without worrying about an ambush.”

“From?”

“Aurora. I am so fucking paranoid now.”

“Well…” She trails off, eyeing the water fight across the street. “She has her mother’s hair.”

“Yep.”

“Yep.”

Later, at the urging of my sister, I find myself sitting at a tiny white wrought iron table outside of Betty’s Bakery. I bring Beau, and Ben, my lunch date, goes inside to order our sub sandwiches. When he returns he startles me with a revelation as I bite into my sandwich.

“You know, I always had a thing for you. And you always had a thing for my brother. But I knew it wouldn't work out between you two.” He pulls a piece of pepperoni from his sandwich and throws it to Beau.

“Maybe it’s working out now.” I am trying to convince myself, more than him. I don’t know what is going on in my life, but I want to get lost in the tangling. The drama, as my sister called it, distracts me from the sadness sitting around our house.

“Oh, yeah? Because you’re fucking?” He grins, sauce on his face.

“Don’t be so crass.” I don’t get riled up at his words, a reaction I am sure he was trying to pull. He doesn’t know who he is messing with. And it's too new to name it, but he may not be wrong. I motion for him to wipe his mouth.

“Did I offend your delicate self?” He grabs a napkin and cleans himself up.

“No,” I say, lifting the bread off of my sandwich, looking for the olives I told him I didn’t want.

“No. Okay, you just don’t want me to say it that way. It’s the truth though. Listen, I have no doubt he likes you. He always has. And this has been a long time coming. Maybe it’s fate or some shit. But it’s fucking. You’ve always wanted each other. But this is a fling. It can’t be anything more.”

“This is a wonderful way to start out our new friendship, asshole.” I laugh. I don’t mind his forwardness. It reminds me of the one other person here I wish I could be close to. Britt always told me how it was, told me the things I wanted to hide from. “Okay. So who should I be with? You? Since you’ve had a crush on me since high school?”

“Okay, yes, I did have a thing for you back then, but I didn't like, pine for you after you graduated or I graduated. It’s school. It doesn't matter. And I don’t have a thing for you now.”

“So if I wanted to fuck, you wouldn't be into it?” I look around to see if the other outside table is occupied. It isn’t.

“Well, I’m not stupid, Sevvy.”

“You were so wild back then. And sweet, to me anyway.” I roll my eyes, my cheeks a little red.

“I was sixteen. And I’m sweet now, too. I get it, you don’t like the things I’m saying. Doesn't make them any less true.”

“Well, thank you for your words of wisdom.” I grab my phone and text Sasha, asking how her lunch with Dad is going. Telling her it was a mistake to have lunch with Ben. I like that we can say whatever we want to each other, that it feels like we have known each other our whole lives, and we have known of each other, but that’s not the same thing. When I am done texting I stand, gathering my paper plate and utensils.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” I wasn’t planning to, but I lie anyway. “Too much truth serum I guess. I don’t feel much like hanging out anymore.” I reach for my purse, but he shoots off two words. They halt me. Because I want him to halt me, to say anything.

“Wanna dance?” He motions across the street, to the center of town.

“What?” I can’t even look at the gazebo the same way now. There is an elderly group taking dancing lessons on the grass of the square. Are they waltzing?

“For old times’ sake. Like prom.”

“No.” I want to. I want the connection. Something less angry and heated.

“Why? Afraid my brother will find out?”

“Stop being an ass.”

“I know you are. You don't want to disrupt this image of you waiting for him. It’s all he’s ever known, and it’s all you’ve ever known how to be.”

“I didn't think about your brother when I moved away. Is this the kind of friendship you were looking to have with me? Because it isn’t fun at all.” I decide to leave in earnest. I throw my trash into the outside bin next to our table, start untying Beau’s leash from our table.

“Really? You didn't think about him when you wrote a play about him? When you adapted it into a screenplay? You didn't think about it when you saw the movie?”

He is laughing, and I find it hard to be mad at him. He is so good at what he does. At setting himself apart from his brother who is quiet and melancholy and simmering passion. I finally go, to feel the passion. “Okay. For real. I’m leaving now. I’m not mad, asshole. But, I need to go hang out at home, so I’m there when my sister gets back from having lunch with my father.”

“Okay. For real, how is he?”

“He’s…okay.” I don’t know what to say. Progress reports are something I only share with my aunt, with Sasha. Bryan has acknowledged my father’s situation, but has he asked me how he is? I rack my brain, searching for an answer that I can stomach.

Ben stands, shoving the last of his sandwich in his mouth. A couple walks by, and he says hello to them, starts a conversation. They are familiar with each other, but I cannot place them. I stay rooted in place. Waiting for him to be done so I can give him a proper goodbye.

He waves to the couple and turns to me, bends at the knees, and starts petting the hair around Beau’s ears. “So we make love a tragedy. We make it a walking nightmare. Or, at least, some of us do. Is it only the poets? The romantics? People like you?”

“How did you know I’m a poet? I haven’t written a poem in years.” I try not to think of the drivel that poured out of me back then.

“It's the way you talk. You can’t hide it. You can’t hide it from someone like me anyway.” He stands, smiling at my dog.

“I imagine hiding from someone like you is impossible,” I say, drawing his eyes upward. “You see things. And it’s because your eyes aren’t pointed inward. You’re not all wrapped up in your inner turmoil. It’s refreshing. I want to be like that. Less dramatic. Less caught up in this storm.” I think of my sister and the way she points everything out. She would like Ben.

“See, poetry.” He smiles. “If you look at the people who hurt you, and the ways they hurt you, that will teach you a lot. Don’t mimic those habits. The ones they use to wound you.”

“I don’t want to do the things he does.” My lunch tasted stale, the way it often does when I’m stressed out. When I am taking on too much and making more jokes than usual. Making more distractions.

“Then don’t,” he says.

“Thanks for lunch. I’m sorry I was dramatic for a bit there.”

“I like that about you.” He laughs, so musical.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” I get a few steps, nearly making it to the crosswalk, then hear Ben’s voice again.

“Tell my brother I said hi when you see him later.”

I don’t turn around.

The gym looks the same, different. It looks sad, and I feel that inside me. The sound of the basketball bouncing on the court ripples through me later that night when I sneak over to the school.

Bryan’s head is down, the hair falling over his forehead. There is a can of beer on the edge of the court.

“Something I do is come here and I think about that night. I still don’t know what I should have done. If I had never kissed you, I never would have known what it was like to kiss you. But if I hadn’t kissed you, I wouldn’t have hurt her. Or you. I’ve never been that good at choosing in life. I obsess and pick over my options. I got that from my father’s presence. I didn’t think about it that night, the way he made me go over my options and the path I could take with every decision. I just knew I wanted to kiss you and I did it. I didn’t care about the consequences. I’m still paying for that night. I saw it today, with my daughter.” She is upstairs, staying with her father. The reason for my late-night visit, the reason I had to sneak in quietly.

“I’m supposed to be sorry, right?" I whisper, as if she can hear me and the stories, above us.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I just look at you, and I want to be more. When I look at her, I just want to be me. Simple as that. I want to be who she thinks I am. You make me want to reach. Maybe that's why I’m still here. I didn’t choose you, so I stayed put. I stayed still and failed."

“Failed at what?" I sit down on the court, look up at him.

“Life. I’ve done nothing." He spreads his arms wide, shakes his head.

“I wish you wouldn’t beat yourself up. Were you like this back then? I feel like I only got a piece of you. The confident, quiet guy. The one who touched me and made me shiver."

"I made you nervous." There is a small smile playing his lips. I like knowing I put it there.

“Yes." I would turn red, run over my words. I would lose my breath and forget my name. He did that to me. He was poetry and perfection. I wanted to devour him.

"You make me nervous. You did then, you do now. Maybe I didn't show it. But it's true. You want more, Severin. You don't sit idle."

He throws the basketball in the air, catches it, turns to me. How beautiful he is. Long and lithe. I want to crawl inside of him. To find the pieces he deems unworthy.

“I’m glad you weren’t the one."

"What do you mean?" His jaw is set, preparing for the hurt.

“The one I lost my virginity to."

He laughs, soft and crinkled around the eyes. “I’m glad I wasn’t either. I’m sure I was shit in bed back then."

“And now?" I stand, walk to him.

“I don't know. Care to tell me?” He drops the ball, gathers me. He tastes like mint and beer. Forgiveness and the hint of a grudge I won’t let go of.

It was that first thrust that did me in, down by the water. Like I had been holding my breath, for years, waiting for him. Waiting for this moment. A validation. A reminder of all I held onto. Maybe this was why I never fell in love, not entirely. My two-year relationship, the only one to my name, was forgotten. I never felt this with my ex. I never felt this release.

“Fuck.” Bryan’s breath is on my neck. I push my shoulder blades into the gym floor, look up at him. He moves slowly, his forearms caging me. I grip them, their heat is addicting. I run my fingers over the veins there, it nearly unravels me.

“Why?” It’s the only word I get out, it stutters past my lips as I breathe.

“Why what?” He pulls back, resting his forehead on mine.

“Why did we wait so long for this? I love this.” I am embarrassed by the words tumbling out. There is no guard. There should be. I should rein it in, but a large part of me doesn’t want to. If these are the only times, it will be enough. In the heat of this, I try to convince myself this is my truth. No one should ever be put in the shadows. I close my eyes to keep out the shadows of the gym.

Bryan laughs, slows, pulls away. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” It’s not the most romantic thing a girl has ever heard, but I don’t mind. I would be okay with the silence, the heavy sound of our breathing, our bodies connecting, disconnecting.

We are on a dirty floor, just feet from the place he first kissed me. It’s wrong on so many levels, and that fuels me. My hair on my face, my bra pushed up, Bryan’s jeans pushed down. I imagine myself remembering this years later. Regret may paint it in hues I cannot see now. It may not.

I pull Bryan’s neck, bite his lip. “Let’s make up for lost time.”