“Okay. Where will you be?”
“Northern Bolivia at first.” He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder but set it down and stared at his shoes. “Grace, I don’t know how remote it’s going to be down there. You might not hear from me for a while, but I’ll write to you and we can figure out how to call each other.” He squinted into my eyes as we memorized each other’s face. “Grace, Pornsake bought the photo.”
I blinked. “I know. Why did you wait to tell me until now?”
“I just thought you should know. He’s a good guy.”
“How nice of you. And how nice of him,” I said, sarcastically.
“I didn’t want you to find out that I knew and didn’t tell you.”
“Okay.” I understood. Matt was trying not to leave loose ends.
An airline worker announced final boarding over the speaker. “It’s time.” He opened his arms and I rushed into them with such force, like I was trying to jump inside of him so he could take me along, a stowaway inside his heart. He squeezed me hard and for a long time. “I’ll see you, Grace.”
We let go of each other and stepped apart. “I’ll see you later, Matt.”
He smiled and walked away. Just before he reached the Jetway, he turned back, pulled something out of his pocket, and held it up. “I stole this, just so you know!”
It was a practice tape, a recording of me playing the cello. He laughed and then he was gone.
The love of my life was gone.
19. What Happened to Us?
Grace
The day after Matt left, I auditioned for a grunge band as a cellist at a little venue off of Allen Street in the East Village. Their music was like Nirvana, with haunting runs and loud, screaming choruses. I imagined that we would end up on VH1’s Unplugged, and I’d have an awesome career as a rock cellist, guesting for all the who’s-who bands in New York. I felt like I was finally following my dreams.
I kept to myself, played well, practiced a lot, and collected my money at the end of the week. For three nights, I made a hundred and twenty dollars. Things were promising, and I was excited to tell Matt about it.
A week and a half after he left, he called for the first time. I was practicing in my room when Daria knocked on my door and yelled, “Grace! Matt’s on the phone for you in the lounge.”
I ran down the stairs, wearing nothing but one of Matt’s T-shirts and an old tattered pair of underwear. I didn’t care—I was so fucking excited.
“Hello!” I said, out of breath.
“Fuck, this phone call is costing me, like, seventy bucks.”
My excitement died a little at his greeting. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Never mind. Oh my god, I have so much to tell you.”
“Tell me.”
“National Geographic is launching a television channel in September. There’s going to be tons of new job openings, and I’ve already totally impressed Elizabeth.”
“Who’s Elizabeth?”
“She’s the lead photographer on this project. She’s supercool and she personally picked me for the internship after she saw my portfolio. I didn’t even know.”
I wanted to ask him how old she was and if she was pretty. “I’m so happy for you, Matt.”
He yelled, “I’ll be right there!” to someone in the background. “Hey, Gracie, I had to take a bus three hours to get to this phone. There’s nothing down here so I don’t know when I’ll be able to call you again.”
“Okay, no worries.”
“I gotta go. The next bus is leaving soon, and they’re holding it for me. Hey, I miss you.” The last part sounded like such an afterthought that it made my stomach ache.
“I miss you, too. See ya.”
“Bye.” He hung up.
It’s not good-bye. It’s not good-bye. Never say good-bye.
Staring at my bare feet, I thought about how he didn’t ask me what I was up to. I never even got a chance to tell him about the band gigs.
Tati stood there, leaning against the doorjamb of the front door with her arms crossed over her chest. “Where are your pants?”
“That was Matt.”
“I figured. Are you gonna get dressed today? I’ve come to pick you up for lunch. You can tell me all about it then.”
“Yeah.”
“Come on.” She motioned with her head toward the door.
“Okay,” I said. “Sandwiches?”
“Anything’s better than ramen.”
Tati and I met for lunch every Wednesday for the next month. Sometime in early July, she asked if I had talked to Matt, and I told her no.
“How come he hasn’t called?”
“I might have missed him. I don’t know, he’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s hard to coordinate these things. I’m sure he’s fine.”