We Were Never Here(11)
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Our last day had that misty, prematurely nostalgic air, bittersweet as we sucked in each sight and experience hungrily, willed it to last. I woke up early to visit the town’s pretty church, with its cerulean ceiling and simple stained glass, its outside the friendly white of a chipped diner mug. Kristen—once a devoted Protestant, now vehemently opposed to organized religion in any form—didn’t want to hear about it, and instead greeted me in the hotel lobby with the just-right shade of milky coffee and a proposed plan for the day.
We rented bikes from a kiosk and tottered over the winding road, stopping to gaze at the mountains in silence, as if saying goodbye. We pulled on bathing suits and plunged our toes into the hotel’s frigid pool, then reclined in the filtered autumn sun, sharing a bottle of Chardonnay and reading our books in amicable silence. The hotel’s whistling custodian clambered up to a shed and gave us a wave before digging a rake from a tangle of tools inside, and Kristen jumped up and asked him to take a photo of us with my camera. I got us both massages at a tiny, green-walled spa, where we lay on musty massage tables while thick-limbed women rubbed our backs with more speed than precision. It was a perfect last day. Kristen didn’t mention the backpacking pitch, but I could feel it between us, the possible future hovering like a shared memory.
I was torn. Though she was still right next to me, I already missed Kristen. I’d sunk back into the salve of her devil-may-care sense of humor, her constant championing of me—she saw me as strong and smart and competent, and she always had a pep talk at the ready. As other friends in Milwaukee paired off and married and had kids and drifted further, farther away from me, ripples in a pond, Kristen remained more loyal than a sister, more loving than a doting mom.
But…part of what made our time together special was that it was limited. And stuff was maybe, finally happening in Milwaukee—there was Aaron, the thought of whom set off small fireworks in my chest. Plus the possible promotion at work, the job I genuinely liked.
I broached the topic while we paused for an afternoon coffee. I loved this part of a travel day, the predinner ahh. We were on a bench in front of a shipping-container-turned-café that sold coffee and Chilean pop (Bilz and Pap and other excellently named soft drinks) from a sawtooth window.
“So, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About traveling for the rest of the year.”
“Oh yeah?” She slid back her sunglasses and beamed at me. She’d asked for her coffee over ice, café sobre hielo, to which the server frowned in confusion and scooped some cubes into her steaming cup.
“I’m truly honored that you asked me.” My rib cage tightened—I hated conflict, hated letting someone down. “You know you’re my number-one travel buddy. My ride-or-die.”
“But?”
I sighed. “It’s not a good time for me to leave for six months. Things are happening at work and—and I’m interested in someone, which I’ll tell you all about…” I paused to giggle at Kristen’s delighted gasp. “I just want to give it a chance. You know? But I still really like this idea, and there’s no one I’d rather do it with than you. Can we maybe try to make it happen next year?”
She was quiet for a moment, staring into her coffee.
“Kristen?”
She licked her lip. “I’m taking it in. A part of me really wants to try to convince you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I just…wow, I really thought you’d say yes.” She nodded, slowly at first and then with fervor. “I’m bummed, obviously, but I’ll deal with it. Hey, tell me about this guy! There’s a guy?!”
Her smile was big and brave and try-hard, and it snapped at my heart like a rubber band. Still, I smiled back, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “His name is Aaron,” I began, “and we’ve only been out a few times.”
“And you didn’t mention him all week? Is there something wrong with him?” she joked, smacking me playfully.
“I mean, who knows if it’s even anything. And dating is, like, the least interesting thing we talk about.” I snickered. “I didn’t want to be the girl who can’t shut up about a guy she barely knows.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve always had issues around self-esteem with dudes.” Her eyes widened, like someone else had said it. “Oh my God, that came out wrong.”
It stung, but I shook my head. “No, it’s true. You know how hard it is for me to be vulnerable with someone I like. And how even liking someone happens sooo rarely.”
“Totally. Well, and you have this nasty habit of picking guys who are one one-millionth as awesome as you and don’t treat you like the queen you are.” She grinned. “So tell me about him! Does he kiss the ground you walk on, like he damn well should?”
I laughed and felt my shoulders loosen. “Not yet, but I think he might actually be a good one?” And so I told her about him, glancing away whenever my smile felt too big for my face. What a relief, feeling this secret I’d been carrying soften and dissolve. Kristen listened, eyes sparkling, pressing her palms together and occasionally punctuating my patter with quick, happy claps. So supportive was she, so encouraging and excited, that I forgot to make a point I’d vowed earlier to state outright: I’m not choosing him over you.