“The bench helps me feel less like an asshole.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Gretchen, I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough but I need to say it again. I don’t deserve to feel like less of an asshole.”
She nodded, rubbed one foot against the other. “You hurt me, Dave.”
Dave wanted to whisper another “I’m sorry,” but there were still no tears and he didn’t want anything to push her to that point, so he kept quiet. He’d stand there and let her yell at him, take the full force of her sorrow if it meant easing some of it. He’d absorb her pain, and Julia’s too, if he could. But he didn’t know how, and so he stood there, a hand on the back of his neck, looking around the harbor, stealing glances at Gretchen, who seemed almost confused about why she was standing there with him.
Gretchen took a step closer to Dave, so she was less of a silhouette, the details of her face coming into focus. He couldn’t tell what she was feeling, if she was about to slap him or hug him. The moment stretched on and on without a clue as to what was on Gretchen’s mind. People walked all around them as if on fast-forward, like a film-editing trick. Dave realized he had no idea what was on anyone’s mind, not even a little. Before the Nevers he and Julia had assumed they knew exactly what was going on in strangers’ minds, that people felt and thought in clichés. During the Nevers Dave had discovered that they hadn’t been exactly right, or maybe that the assumption that he didn’t fit in with those clichés was wrong. Now everyone just seemed like a mystery. He couldn’t even tell what the hell he was thinking and feeling, if he was angry or sad or guilty or hopeful or curious.
“I need you to promise nothing will ever happen between you and Julia again,” Gretchen said, eyes still on the ground.
“I promise,” Dave said quickly, before he really understood the implications of what she was saying.
“I can’t go through that again. I was a wreck. Even more than when my ex cheated on me.”
“I swear, Gretchen.”
Gretchen let out a sigh, shaking her head at the ground and then looking up at him with a smile of all things. “You make me happy, Dave. And as pissed as I was at you, it’s been hard to forget that. I want you to keep making me happy. I want you to leave things a little better than you found them.”
Relief washed through Dave, even before she took another step and wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him.
“That was the longest you’ve ever held a straight face,” he said, taking a whiff of her hair, kissing her cheek, almost jittery with gratitude. His hands were shaky, and he felt his voice waver, as if he were on the verge of tears, not laughter.
“I thought you’d be proud of me.” She broke the hug and took his hand in hers, then leaned in to kiss him. It’d only been a few weeks since they’d kissed, but the pause in between had felt eternal.
Gretchen burrowed herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “I missed you.”
He hugged back. “I did, too.”
People did not speak highly enough of hugs. Yeah, they had a good reputation, but it didn’t really compare to how great they actually were. People should be walking around hugging each other all the time, amazed.
The sun kept dipping down into the ocean and the lights came on at the harbor, casting sudden shadows on the ground, illuminating the faces that were just a second ago silhouettes. The sky was golden and purple, the ocean a darker shade of violet.
FLOAT