Somewhere Along The Line

22. James

We settle at a table in a local sandwich shop, a dive as unromantic as they come. It smells vaguely of vinegar and burnt bread, the occasional ding of a toaster interrupting the chatter of businessmen on their lunch breaks.

It’s not ideal for this reunion, but it’ll do.

“So,” Piper offers, extending an olive branch after I gave one earlier with this invite. “What’s new with Mr. James ‘Banker Man’ Newhouse? Other than not getting busted this morning on the stand, I mean.”

The tentative smile she offers to accompany the nickname thaws some of the ice between us, allowing us to settle back into the playful but guarded banter we had when this charade started. It’s comforting.

“Well, Pipes,” I say cautiously, wondering if she’ll throw something at me for calling her that. Instead, her eyes give a dramatic, familiar roll. “I’ve been working, much to no one’s surprise. Dad moved into his apartment, about five blocks from my place, and that’s been an adjustment. We were able to sell the house for cash.”

I try to hide a grimace, but I’m sure she catches it easily. A cash offer in this area means they want the lot; they’re likely to bulldoze the house if they haven’t already. Her face changes, an I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know kind of look to tell me she understands how much it hurts to lose the house that way.

We both pretend we aren’t close enough to acknowledge it.

“Is your dad settling in okay?”

“Seems like it. He’s gotten to know several of his neighbors, and we meet for dinner at least once a week. He says he’s going to start volunteering soon, but I’ll believe it when I see it. We’ve had enough new starts for the time being.”

I scrub my hand through my hair while gazing down at the menu. Not that I’m hungry. I just can’t stand to look at her for too long. If I do, I might pull her chair to my side of the table. “How is everything with you?”

“Good,” she says cheerfully, though when I look up, her smile doesn’t meet her eyes. “Work is going well. I got the promotion a few weeks ago.”

It’s a decent performance, these words and this face, but I see right through it. There’s so much subtext, so much we’re not saying, and yet we continue to pretend like it’s not there. Like we don’t know each other inside and out.

“That’s great, P. Very well deserved. Did Sami take you out to celebrate?”

“She did.” She rubs her hands up and down her legs, the tell-tale sign she’s anxious. “You said you had something to discuss?”

My stomach clenches with a level of unease I haven’t felt before. Not with Piper.

“Yes, I do,” I reply. Leaning forward, I put one hand on top of the other, rubbing the skin on my knuckles with nervous energy. “I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to think of how to say this, and I’ve decided there isn’t a good way to do that. So, if it’s alright with you, I’m going to word-vomit it. Piper-style, if you will.” The reference tugs at my heart, memories of her breakneck monologues running through my mind.

“Go on.”

“I need to apologize. For the way things ended, and for the way I acted.” I release a heavy exhale.

“And for what else?” she asks. The anger she must have been pushing down for months rises to the surface and twists her face into a scowl. “For leaving me crying and stranded in your backyard? For missing the train every morning after? For never reaching out until the damn hearing came knocking and forced you to re-engage with me for the sake of our ruse? Are you sorry for that too?”

Yes, yes, and yes.

“I’m sorry, P. For all of it. I got scared and I ran. I thought it would be easier that way. For you, at least.”

“Nothing about this was easy , James. I told you I wanted you, and you told me I was too much.”

No, no, no. God, does she really think that? Did I say that? Please, tell me I didn’t say that. “That’s not what I meant. Piper, please, it’s not what I meant.”

Rehashing our break-up in an off-brand Subway on a random Tuesday is not how I wanted this reunion to play out.

“That’s literally what you said, James! That this was too much.”

“What I said—what I was trying to say—was that I’m shit at handling my feelings and I’d be shit at caring about you. I didn’t think I could be with you the way I wanted to and the way you deserve. It was never about you being too much.”

Her face softens like she needed to hear me say that. Like she might actually believe it. I bring my hands to my face and rub the heel of my palms against my eyes, hoping it will ease the sting that’s building behind them.

“And now what, you’re sorry?”

“I’ve been sorry, P. I was sorry when you gave me back your fare card and when we were in my backyard before that. I was sorry when you showed up at my house and I was sorry when I brushed off your text the week before. I’ve been sorry since the incident on the train when it became clear my dumb fucking Family Fares idea put you in a compromising position.”

“I agreed to it, James. I can make my own decisions.”

“You can, and that was my mistake. I never honored that you can take care of yourself. That’s what I’m apologizing for most of all. I chose, for both of us, that this… thing…” I gesture between us, “was too risky. Not only for me but for you. That wasn’t my call to make for you.”

Her body eases in her chair, tension releasing from her shoulders as she takes a deep inhale. “I forgive you,” she says softly. Then silence stretches between us, taut with my hope and her fear before she adds, “but it doesn’t mean I trust you.”

I nod. “Can I try to earn back your trust?”

“And how would you do that?”

“I’d like to start from the beginning, to get to know each other authentically. To allow feelings to develop we don’t have to ignore, and to express them without pretending. We built a whole story for ourselves around a lie, P, and that’s not the sort of foundation anyone should build a relationship on.

“I don’t want to omit things or give you the cliff notes version of my life anymore. You deserve to spend time with people who won’t keep you at arm’s length. I’d like to be one of those people.”

“But, James, you’re the one who broke it off when your feelings became too real. Why should I believe you won’t do it again?”

If only I could crack open my chest and show her that her name is branded on my heart. While I’m trying to convey this with my words, they’re two-dimensional. My love for her isn’t, and therefore the words feel insufficient. I need to try them anyway.

“I’ve seen what life is like without you, Piper, and it’s no safer. Turns out there’s no protecting myself from you because you pulverized every wall I built. My guess is I did the same for you. The question isn’t whether I’m all in; you have my heart either way, P. The question is whether you’ll take it.”

“James, these words, they’re what I needed to hear two months ago. Not now, not after I’ve tried my damnedest to envision a life without you. To convince myself a life without you could still be good.”

Her words tighten the ache behind my ribs, sharpen it, push it deeper. “I’m so sorry. I know I’m two months too late. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to try to make it up to you, to try this thing again. To show you I won’t run.”

Her eyes hold mine and they’re full of every emotion I tried so hard, for so long, to avoid. But this time, they’re not threatening. They tell me I have a chance.

“Can you give me a few days? This is a lot. This whole morning, it’s just… it’s a lot. I need to think about it.”

“I’m here, P. I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll show you.”

I’m two tons lighter as I make the walk from the sandwich shop to work. The hearing is over, and with it, the concern about whether we’ll get caught. Even better, Piper finally knows how I feel about her and what I want.

Not even the bitter cold can dampen the warmth that’s radiating from my core; a growing hope starts to overshadow the fear she might say I’m too late.

I pull out my phone as I wait for the WALK sign to flash at the intersection, cars rolling by in stops and starts, occasionally laying on their horns.

My thread with Dad sits near the very top of my text messages, ready and waiting for my report.

I don’t need to say more. He knows what this means because he’s had to listen to me sulk for nearly three months (and because he’s the one who told me what an idiot I was for letting Piper go in the first place).

His reply comes quickly and without fuss.

Three dots flutter across the screen as I wait for the rest of his message.