Last-Minute Love (Year of the Chick series) (25 page)

My eyes suddenly widened. “It’s like they’re building the perfect doll or toy truck!”

He finally turned to face me. “Yes! The only problem is...sometimes we don’t appreciate the gift when it’s right in front of us, or sometimes....it gets lost.”

I frowned.
“That must really piss off the brain-elves.”

“It does. They’ll try to build something new...but some things can’t be replaced.”
He looked at me fondly as I finally understood what he meant.

No big-eared elf in the world could ever build me a replacement Erik
.

So how do I make him stay?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Erik and I spent the rest of the day navigating bumpy hiking trails, visiting the town’s famous lighthouse, and heading back to the beach to observe a majestic sunset not obscured by man-made structures. The shore around the lighthouse was a contrasting sight to the beach, with rocks upon rocks clustered together in a jigsaw puzzle. Staring up at that giant structure was a view I wouldn’t soon forget, as up until then I’d only ever seen a lighthouse as a logo on a box of frozen battered fish (
which is the only kind of fish you’ll ever find me eating...and even then I’ll demand extra tartar sauce
).

The only awkward moment in
the day had occurred when Erik insisted on giving me a piggy-back ride along the beach. I wrapped my arms around his neck and was all set to giggle like a schoolgirl, but he dropped me after only five steps because newsflash: I’m sort of tall and a little curvy. This left me with grains of sand up my nostrils, and Erik stripped of all his manly pride. We made a pact to never speak of it again.

In the village now, with old-
fashioned street lamps lighting our way and creaky wooden planks beneath our feet, Erik led me to what looked like a charming seaside residence. Except for the sign out front that said “RESTAURANT” in big bold letters, with a logo of a fish riding high off a wave.

A fish?

I gripped Erik’s hand a little tighter as we went inside.

***

I was sweating.

I was in a restaurant...sweating.

By now both layers of my sweaters were hanging on the back of my chair, leaving me as the only woman in this restaurant who was scandalous enough to wear a tank top.

This “mom and pop” seafood restaurant was full of charm, from its handmade wooden tables to the strings of
twinkly lights, which cast a warm yellow glow on all the patrons’ smiling faces.

In my case
though, the lights just reflected off my sweaty face.

I looked
at Erik with pleading eyes, but so far he wouldn’t budge. “You don’t understand,” I said. “I don’t even know what a ‘clam’ is! Seafood just isn’t me.”

Erik leaned across the table and massaged my shoulder. “You can’t decide to never try seafood because you had a sushi incident fifteen years ago.”

What the...

“Yes, I know all about it,” he said.
“You mentioned it in your book, remember?”

Did I?

“But how do you know I didn’t make it up?” I said defensively.

“Well...we’re sitting in a seafood restaurant, and you’re sweating.”

Damn him and his broadening of my horizons!

I took a long sip of wine. And then another one.

“Why do you care so much if I try new things?” I suddenly said.

“Because I know it’s what you secretly want, you’ve just always been too afraid.”

Just then, the overweight and overly-friendly East coast waiter came to our table, with two big bowls of Atlantic clam chowder.

“Enjoy!” he said loudly as he waddled away.

I was too afraid to even smell what was in the bowl, so I stopped breathing out of my nose, as Erik stirred it slowly while saying “Mmm.”

Bastard.

I squirmed in my seat, with my eyes on the nearest exit. When my gaze switched back to Erik I saw him enjoying spoonful after spoonful.

Cautiously, I
took a first sniff into the bowl.

Hmm...vegetables,
bacon...it sure doesn’t smell like fish.

I made sure he wasn’t looking and took a tiny spoonful.

To my surprise, it didn’t taste at all like someone had shoved a trout dripping with seawater down my throat.

I took a bigger bite, tasting potato and a small
unfamiliar “round thingy.”

Was that
“round thingy” a clam? I think I just ate a clam. And I didn’t die!

I smiled and continued
eating the delicious chowder, almost forgetting that Erik was even there.

When I looked up between spoonfuls I saw him smiling with his arms crossed.

I scowled. “Don’t look so smug.”

“Just wait ‘til the main entré
e,” he said. “A big fillet poached in butter and a little garlic, oh yes!”

J
ust like that my nervous sweat-fest resumed...

***

Back outside now, full of fish and a little too much alcohol, I smiled and stumbled my way to Erik.

“Thanks for helping me with the fish
phobia, but please don’t tell me I have to wrestle a snake now.”

He laughed
as he stroked my hair. “We’ll save that for another day.”

It was a simple phrase that brought me back to reality.
What other day?

“Well I had a great time,” I quickly said. “Thank you!”

“Hold on now, there’s one more stop to go.”

I grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch
. “But it’s almost eleven o’ clock.”

He smiled. “And you
r flight is at seven a.m. So relax.”

Airplane. Leaving. Never seeing Erik again.
I was starting to feel sick, but Erik didn’t seem to notice.

“Bef
ore we make the final pit-stop, I need something from the restaurant. Actually it should be ready now. Wait here.”

Was he picking up some fish for an early breakfast? This was getting out of hand now.

He disappeared inside and returned a few moments later, only now with a thermos in his hand.

My eyes widened. “Yo
u took clam chowder TO GO? And they’re letting you keep a thermos?!” I grabbed it from him. “These things are like twenty bucks...”

He laughed. “What can I say, I charmed them. And it’
s not clam chowder, okay? Wait and see.”

He le
d me back to the car, but after only a few minutes of driving through the now-deserted village, I could tell he was a little lost.

“H
mm...” he said, as he made a second U-turn.

“What exactly are you looking for?” I asked.

He ignored me and drove on, with all the faux-confidence of a man who’d never ask for directions.

A few minutes later he pulled to a stop on a gravel
ly road. “Here we are.”

I looked around
for a clue, but all I saw were beach houses, most of them looking abandoned since it was winter, after all.

“Do you own a beach house?” I asked.

“No I do not. Now come on.” He climbed out of the car without even looking back.

I followed him
out but I was feeling very confused by now. “Erik, I think those are private beaches.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Well the park is closed and I don’t know where the other public beaches are at.
This will be fine though.”

I frowned. “
So...we’re breaking and entering?”

He tried not to laugh. “Just relax and put on your
nice warm hat. Then I’ll show you the surprise in my trunk.”

After taking a second to realize he hadn’t said
“surprise in my trunks,” I remembered how he’d banned me from looking in his trunk when he’d picked me up.

Suddenly I pieced it together.

His guitar!!! He’s playing me a song...on the beach...under starlight. HOLY CRAP!!!

“Are you okay?” he asked, as I stood there beaming like a psycho.

“Sure I am, now open ‘er up.”

He popped it open, and underneat
h my luggage I saw...a folded lounge chair. And a blanket. No guitar.

I slumped my shoulders, but he didn’t seem to notice with his face buried deep in the trunk.  “Just ask yourself this,” he said
, as he managed to pull out the blanket. “Have you ever laid down under a canvas of stars, with the rhythm of the ocean waves as your soundtrack?”

Actually, I definitely haven’t
...

***

I craned my neck in the direction of the beach house, but Erik quickly snuggled me back into the blanket, on this lounge chair two bodies somehow shared.

“Relax!
” he said. “Nobody’s going to arrest us.”

He sat up and reached for the thermo
s, pouring another cup of what was the best hot chocolate I’d ever had.

I stayed where I was,
staring up at a million stars on a cloudless night. In my lifetime of limited geographic exploration, this was easily the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. If I became too aware of it though I would cry, and that was the one thing I wanted to avoid on my temporary break from reality.

Time to switch gears.

“I can’t believe this chair didn’t break,” I said. 

“You mean after the piggy-back incident?”

I slapped him on the thigh. “I told you to never speak of that!”

I sat
right up and stole the cup from him, taking a long sip before reclining back into position.

“Erik, what’s your opinion
on stars?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...do you think since all the humans in the world see the same set of stars, it means we’re all really close together, so actual ‘ground distance’ doesn’t matter?”

He slid back down the chair and we were face-to-face. “I thi
nk that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

I smiled. “Thank god
! I was afraid you’d get all existential on me.”

“
The only existence I know is the one where two people can connect, and stars don’t really help you in that way. They don’t help you to reach someone,” he stroked the side of my face, “to feel them. For that you need to be close.”

I did my best to think of something funny so I wouldn’t tear up.
Borat in a slingshot bathing suit.
I turned away and held back a smile so it must’ve worked.

“Romi...”

I was afraid of what he might say so I decided to take the reins. “Why did you come to New York in the first place? You never told me.” He looked a bit uncomfortable which was exactly where I needed him to be.
Better you than me.
Besides it was a legitimate question. “I mean...you had your kick-ass job...your friends and family close by...you were in a relationship...you were finally at that age when guys stop being immature losers,” I elbowed him lightly, “it was the perfect time to settle down!”

He
turned his head and stared up at the stars. “To be honest...that job didn’t just come up. I’d been looking for a job abroad for months. And I’d been doing that because...the idea of staying exactly where I was....well it made me wonder if my life had run out of adventures.”

In that one sentence I understood him more than in the whole last year.

I gazed at the seamless sky. “I’ve been feeling the same way. Only for me it’s like I’m ten years behind the curve compared to everybody else!” I sighed. “I don’t even know if there’s time to catch up on all this ‘living,’ because...what if I’m so busy being selfish, that I miss my actual window on sharing a life with someone? I do still want that, you know...” I trailed off, suddenly terrified by what the future might hold or wouldn’t hold.

He wrapped the blanket tightly around us and faced me, his pale blue eyes
searching deep. “Maybe what we’ve both realized this weekend, is that you don’t have to be alone to have your adventures,” he said. “You can share them.”

As his warm l
ips met mine it blocked out the cold night air, and I wondered if I could stuff him in my suitcase and bring him home...

Chapter Twenty-Four

Three a.m.

Erik parked the car on a side street by his apartment. I watched him pull my luggage out of the trunk, since I’d made him promise we’d say goodbye here instead of at the airport.
That would kill me.

As he closed the trunk I took a quick scan of my surroundings, where I noticed two drunk girls clambering out of a cab, an annoyed-looking cab driver, and a curious old woman wandering the streets at this ungodly hour. That’s when I knew for sure: Erik wasn’t the only thing I could see or hear anymore; the rest of reality was creeping in, and I hated it
.

Outside Erik’s apartm
ent, I remembered walking down that corridor last May after saying goodbye. I really didn’t think I’d ever see that almost-stranger again, but somehow here we were. I just wasn’t sure if we’d ever be that lucky again.

Erik opened the door and switched on the light
, but his place looked nothing like the apartment I remembered. Walls were bare of posters, guitars and recording equipment were gone...there wasn’t even any furniture, apart for one simple folding chair facing the television.

“Wow,” I said
quietly. “You really are leaving, aren’t you?”

He smiled briefly but said nothing as he helped me with my coat.

“Let me get you a chair,” he said.

He disappeared into his bedroom and returned with one more chair. He
positioned it to face the first one. “Sit.”

He took a seat in the
other chair and stared at me.

This
is what it all comes down to.

“So,” he said.

“So....”

We laughed.

“Why do I suddenly feel like the party’s over?” I said.

He stared at me fondly, but his expression quickly changed. “D
o you want to watch some Conan O’Brien? I recorded it.”

It wasn’t the line I’d been expecting, but I didn’t mind deflecting reality for a little longer
.
Two more hours and twenty minutes, to be exact.
Not to mention that he liked my favourite late-night host.

I nodded and moved my chair to face the television.

“Actually,” he said. “No, this won’t work.” I watched him curiously as he rose from his chair and scanned the empty apartment. “These chairs suck. I’ll get the mattress.”

“I’ll help!”

I followed him to his bedroom, which by now was just a room full of different piles of clothes, two suitcases, and a mattress. I grabbed one side of the mattress, and when I turned around to re-position myself, I saw it. A normal eye would’ve missed it, but my psycho eye saw the edges peeking out from behind his closet door.

I dropped the mattress carelessly
, heading straight for the hidden object before he could stop me. When I turned around he was already shaking his head “no.”

“Pleeeease?” I begged, as I held up his acoustic guitar.
“Please, please, please, please...PLEASE!”

“Romi, I can’t perform under pressure.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He blushed. “No
, that’s not what I mean. It’s just...I started playing music again because of you. You were my lyrical guru, but it was still a rough start from not having done it for a while. Even yesterday morning, when I started writing a song about you---”

I gasped. “You wr
ote a song about me? Well that settles it: you’re playing that song. Get out there and play it right now.” I gestured to the chairs and empty room, the perfect one-on-one performance ground.

“
Would you let me finish?” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

“I said when I STARTED writing a song about you, I quickly realized it was shit and I didn’t finish.” He fished a paper out of his pocket and quickly scanned it, looking more and more disgusted as he read. He showed me the scrawled out lines from far away. “See? Shit.”

As I stared at
the smatterings of ink on the page, I remembered a secret weapon I’d been hiding for a while.

“Stay right there.”

I scurried out of the room with his guitar still in my hand (in case he decided to smash it to win the battle) and returned a few seconds later, only now hiding something in my other hand.

“Remember when we were in that gift shop in Montauk?”
I said.

“You mean when YOU were in that gift shop
, and you made me stay outside for twenty minutes because you were buying me a present?”

I smiled. “Yes. And I lied.”

He looked confused.

“I kicked you out of the store so I could write you a letter. And here it is. On Montauk gift shop stationary.”

I revealed the perfectly folded paper that said “FOR ERIK’S EYES ONLY” on the front.

Erik’s defensive walls came tumbling down, as he stared at the letter like it was the secret to eternal youth.

“You can have this letter,” I said. “IF you play me that song. Or any song. It doesn’t matter how polished it is. It just matters that you express yourself, and I know you want to...so stop being so afraid.” I smiled at him warmly and whispered the last part. “Please.”

He sighed and stormed out of the
room like a petulant child.

What?

“Okay,” he said firmly as I followed after him. “You sit in this chair.” He moved one of the chairs so it faced the window. “And you’re not allowed to look.”

“Are you frickin’ kidding me?”

I’d never seen him look more serious. “Sit.”

I silently obeyed, but not before I positioned the chair at the perfect angle so I could see him in the
window’s reflection.
Loser.

I clasped my hands together and anxiously awaited the performance. I heard him clear his throat, and a few seconds later a beautiful melody began. He cleared his throat again.
And then a third time. Finally there were words.

“No one makes me laugh this way,

No one makes me sing.”

I beamed as he went on.

“Time don’t mean a thing---no, that was the wrong line. Shit.”

No
one had ever done something so uncomfortable for me before. I adored every second of it.

He started strumming again and cleared his throat for a fourth time.

“Don’t you dare be sorry, don’t you dare....aruggh!” His s
trange growling noise pulled me out of the moment. “You know what?” he said. “Fuck this.” Through the reflection in the window I saw him crumple up the lyrics and toss them across the room.

“You know what I think, Romi? Oh, and you can turn around now.”

I slowly slid my chair around, slightly frightened by the “crazy” in his voice.

“Here’s what I think.”

He s
trummed the guitar aggressively and started to sing.

“There’s this girl Romi;

She thinks she’s uncool.”

I burst into laughter.

“
But the first day I met her,

I knew she would rule
!

I thought I’d forget her,

I knew that I should.

But she stayed in my memory,

I liked her for good.”

I put my hand on my heart, quickly realizing that this
random song was the best thing ever. He continued to strum agressively and sing in a frustrated tone.

“Now she’s so special,

She’s stuck in my
heart;

I can’
t let her go yet,

I love her too hard.”

My heart exploded in my chest and I instantly died.

I actually didn’t die, but something inside me was bursting in a stream of light.

He slowed his angry strumming to a stop and dropped the guitar.

“That’s all I got,” he said, as he focused really hard on nothing at all on the floor.

I leapt from my
chair and landed in his lap, tears forming quickly in my eyes. When I wrapped my arms around his neck, my tears trickled onto his skin.
Oops
. “Sorry,” I quickly said, as I wiped the hot tears from his neck.

He moved his face so I had to look at
him. “First you drool on me, then you cry on me...you’re disgusting.”

I laughed through the tears. “Erik
, I’m about to leave which means you were supposed to hate me by now, but that song didn’t say the word ‘hate.’”

He smiled
warmly. “I already rejected your ‘Chinese computer geniuses de-programming our brains’ theory with my ‘elf’ theory, why haven’t you accepted that?” I laughed. “The elves created a girl so amazing that it turned my whole world upside down. From that very first day when they dropped her at my office door I could feel it.” He stroked my hair. “So I’d never be able to hate you...only love you. Which I do.”

Time stood still as the man of my dreams spoke the thr
ee magic words.

“I love you too.”

We kissed desperately as the time quickly ticked away...

***

With the lights now off, Erik and I lay on the mattress in his bedroom, both of us staring up at the ceiling. We never did manage to watch that episode of Conan O’Brien, opting instead for casual conversation between furious make-out sessions.

I
slowly sat up and straightened my tank top.

He pulled me back down. “Stay.”

His bedroom door was open, which revealed the digital clock on his microwave.

Five a.m. Wrap it up.

I sighed and tried to untangle myself from his arms. “Please don’t torture me; you know my time is up.”

He reluctantly let me go an
d we stared at each other. Two sets of hopeless eyes.

“
Listen,” I said, deciding once and for all to face reality. “You and I made our share of mistakes this weekend; like me, breaking my rule of not getting involved with a long-distance guy, and you...well I’m sure you know.” A shadow of guilt swept across his face. “But after spending all this time with you, I’ve realized that just because something was wrong for all these ‘circumstance’ reasons, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t right for a whole bunch of other reasons.” I traced my finger along the side of his face, resting it on the spot where his dimple would always appear. “You feel so right, Erik. And I hope in some way I feel right to you too. And...” I sighed. “I hope you’ll remember that ‘rightness’ once I’m gone, instead of suddenly regretting everything.”
He

“What if I don’t want
you to be gone?”

“That’s not an option,” I said grimly. “I’m leaving
. And you? Well you’re REALLY leaving. I mean look around!” I gestured to the piles of clothes. “So for now it’s the end.”

“Or maybe this isn’t over,
” he said quietly.

I clenched my jaw to stop myself from tearing up.
“Please don’t say random things you have no idea about. You can’t decide this sitting here.”

“You don’t think I mea
n it?!” His voice was suddenly loud. “You think I could throw this all away? I have experienced a lot of shit in my life, and I mean A LOT.” I scrunched my nose as I pictured all the wild European orgies he’d probably been to. “But this is extraordinary,” he said, taking my hand in his. “This is the peak of my existence.”

To me this was the worst part about
moving from fantasy to reality. The part when one of the two people just wouldn’t let the fantasy go. Usually that person was me, which made his behaviour surprising and difficult to deal with.

I frowned and pulled my hand away from his grasp.
“This all sounds great when you’re here beside me, but soon you’ll be across the ocean, answering to someone else who you do still love. That kind of stuff doesn’t just disappear!” I massaged my forehead in frustration.

He pulled me towards him
, his face looking serious and grave. “I can’t make you a promise right now, and I wish I had more choices than to hurt you or another.”

I pushed him away.
“But that’s what life is! You make choices. No one forces you to make a single one of them. You make them and you live with them.” My face hardened. “Just make the choices you can live with.”

He stroked my hair
gently, as his blue eyes started to glisten. “Here’s what I know for sure. You’re the exception to every rule, and all I ask is that you have a little faith.”

“You’re asking a lot,” I said quietly.