Halfway to You(86)
ANN
Rome, Italy
September 1998
Carmella kissed my cheeks and handed over the keys to my apartment, along with a warm container that seeped a heavenly comfort-food scent. The small portion reminded me of my conversation with Todd in Lima, but I kept that opinion to myself. “Thank you for watching things while I was away, Carmella. You’re a good friend.”
Her brows darted together. “Stai bene?” She was concerned about me.
I sank into her embrace. “Stanca,” I explained. Tired.
My apartment was the same as it had been, though it smelled faintly of Carmella’s candy-sweet perfume. She had left some fresh vegetables on the counter and a few blocks of my favorite cheeses in the fridge. A new letter rested on the counter.
Ann,
You called me last night from Lima. I’m sure you could tell that you caught me off guard. After you didn’t respond to my letters, I figured you didn’t want to hear from me anymore, so I was surprised—and glad—to hear you on the phone.
I know you overheard a woman on my end. Her name is Alison. I hope my moving on doesn’t stop you from reaching out again. I have no idea when you’ll return to Rome, but when you get this, know that your letters have always been a thing I look forward to.
(Hopefully) your friend and continued pen pal,
Todd
My throat cinched, as if my heart—attached to my esophagus by a thread—had turned to lead and sunk, pulling the drawstring tight.
I set the letter on my desk and dug into Carmella’s steaming to-go box, delighted to find spaghetti alla carbonara waiting for me. Not nearly enough of it, of course, but Carmella knew my favorites: she’d added extra guanciale and cooked the jowl bacon until it was crisp and caramelized. I hunkered into the cheese and carbohydrates, even as my mind spun like a scratched record, skipping over the same half thoughts.
It took me a week to finally muster up the emotional fortitude to write Todd back. I knew I could call him, but there was something therapeutic about putting pen to paper. More than that, however, I liked writing letters because that was our thing.
Todd,
Despite this strange and winding road we’ve traveled, there is nothing—nothing—that could come between me and my gratitude for knowing you in all the shades and capacities I have known you over the years. I won’t lie and tell you that hearing her voice wasn’t painful for me; but not so painful as the prospect of losing you. These many months of silence have reminded me how deeply I cherished our periodic letters. So of course I’ll be your pen pal. Always.
In friendship,
Ann
There is nothing more courageous in this world than loving someone—in friendship, in romance, in family. When I sent that letter, I felt brave, Maggie. I was accepting his friendship as all I’d ever get, and while I mourned the prospect of more, my words felt right. Carmella, Keith, Todd—they were my people. And I wasn’t ready to lose a third of my family simply because he had found someone else to share his bed.
That letter began another string of correspondence with Todd. He did not mention Alison again, nor did I mention the men I dated. We mostly talked about our day-to-day, the people we encountered and the things that made us smile. And, of course, the adventures of Creamy, Edwin, and the Stoop Cats (our official fake band name).
I have to admit that being Todd’s friend was far easier than being his lover.
ANN
Rome, Italy
September 1999
I settled back into my idle life in Rome, focusing on writing more short stories in the months leading up to the Chasing Shadows film premiere. I had turned forty that past February and reasoned that my age demanded some semblance of professionalism. And, on the side, I worked on the “knockout” Keith had encouraged me to write. A novel just for me.
The rest of my time was spent with Carmella and her friends in the restaurant scene. A flirtation developed between me and one of the food-tour guides who frequented Carmella’s with his tourist groups. Bertie was barely thirty, boisterous, and his confidence was contagious.
One evening in September, I ran into Bertie after a tour. We got to talking and shared a cigarette (my first in forever), hyperaware of each other’s mouths. We passed the filter between our lips until we decided it would be more efficient to simply kiss. Unlike the men before him, nothing about Bertie felt desperate or agonizing. Whatever happened, happened—and if that kiss was as far as it would go, at least it was a good kiss.
A few days later, I was on my way out to meet friends when I ran into my postman. Another letter had come from Todd, and I sat on my stoop beside an orange tabby that was sunning himself in the midday sunshine. I wore an ankle-length button-down dress, and when I extended my legs, my shins poked out from under the fabric, the sun reaching down to warm them.
I was expecting Todd’s letter to be lighthearted and superficial, as was our pattern lately.
I was expecting to read Todd’s letter and be on my way.
Instead, I got this:
Ann,
A few letters back you mentioned that the fifteen-year anniversary of our meeting was coming up. How would you like to be together in Tahiti on the day? I think it’s time we followed through on that teal-water daydream.
Todd
I glanced around the street, unsure of what to make of the letter. All around, people were milling about, eating street pizza, holding hands, laughing. They were all so breezy. I’d gotten a taste of that feeling with Bertie, but now it seemed far away. The tectonic plates inside me were shifting again, creating new peaks and valleys.