“Hi Ryker.” Her tone is light.
“Hey Tosha!” She lets go of my hand and hugs him as he reaches over her shoulders.
In the brief silence at the end of their hug, his cerulean eyes shift to me and I see my Ryker. The softness I first met has regained its footing across his face, and I can’t believe I’m staring at the same man who was in the midst of an overdose the last time I saw him. Knots tighten through my stomach at the realization we haven’t seen or spoken to each other since the stairwell in my dorm room nearly ten years ago. I really should just say “nice to see you” and walk away.
But, I can’t. He looks so happy to see me and, really, I’m happy to see him. I know that his dad would have called if anything happened to him, but, I’m honestly happy he’s alive.
I lunge forward—as if pulled by a magnet—and lock my arms around his neck. His hands find their special spot on my lower back, and he squeezes me close as he drops the papers he was holding. There are no words because, well, there are just no words. In a second, every painful memory I’ve been holding onto for a decade is washed away by the feel of his scruff-covered chin against my cheekbone and the smell of earth bursting through his neck. We sway back and forth two times, I think, before I let go and take a step back.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” I chuckle uncomfortably. I come here all the time, have lived in Amherst for seven years, and have never once run into him. Not once.
Ryker tucks his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugs. “I just got a contract with them last week, this is our first delivery.”
The look on my face must clue him in to my confusion.
Pride joins our conversation through his voice. “It’s my farm, Nat. I started it two years ago and this is the first year we’re selling off of the property.”
Tosha and I turn toward each other and mimic wide-eyed stares. I smile back at Ryker. “That’s amazing, Ryker, good for you.”
“Thanks.” His eyes slip to the ground for a moment before causally coming up for air along the line of my dress. “You look great, Natalie.”
“You do too.” The air is no longer cold.
A truck approaching behind Ryker’s sounds its horn.
“Shit, listen,” he shakes his head as if to clear a million words from it, “I gotta get these papers inside and get back to the farm. You should stop by sometime and see the operation.” He picks up the last bag and hands it to me. “It was great seeing you, Natalie.” He seems to be saying my name at every opportunity to convince himself he’s really talking to me. He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze before picking up his papers and jogging inside.
After a few seconds of staring at the space he vacated, I turn without announcement and walk to Tosha’s car. When she gets in, the sound of her slamming door echoes in silence for a minute.
“What the hell just happened?” I breathlessly fight off a shiver.
“Well . . .” She tries to form something coherent. But what just happened was anything but.
“You should stop by sometime?” I repeat Ryker’s invitation as Tosha starts the car and backs out of the space.
“Yeah . . .”
“The last time we saw each other I cracked my fucking head open and I should stop by sometime?” My sweating palms make it hard to clench my fist. The interior of the car is shrinking, along with my throat.
“He probably panicked. You know, like how you gave him a hug?” Tosha’s voice sounds crackly as my head spins.
We make it a mile or so down the road before I’m suffocating and my tongue is numb.
“Stop. Tosha stop the car, stop!”
Pulling over by a corn field, she doesn’t yet have the car in park before I’m unbuckled and throwing the door open. I haven’t had one in a long time, but panic attacks are no stranger, and I need to walk this off. I lock my fingers behind my head and look to the clouds, swallowing fresh air into my lungs. Ignoring the rough gravel, I sit against the car tire and hold my head in my hands—begging it to stay attached to my body.
“You okay?” Tosha sits next to me and lights a cigarette.
Feeling slowly returns to my face and fingers as my pulse returns to normal. Ripping the cigarette from her fingers, I take a deep drag as I lean my head against the car.
“I just need to go home . . .” Still shaking, I hand her the cigarette and dust myself off before climbing back in her car.
Tosha remains studiously focused on the road for the remainder of the drive to my apartment. When we pull up alongside my building, I take one more cleansing breath.
“Are you going to be okay?” There’s no snark in her tone.
“Did you know he had a farm around here?” I ask to the windshield.
Tosha shrugs. “How would I?”
“I don’t know, haven’t you ever Googled him or anything?”
“Why would I? Have you ever Googled him?”