Memories Are Wonderful

Days went by slowly after that. My new job at the bookstore wasn’t as fulfilling as it had been before that Saturday, nor was class as interesting. My mind was absorbed with James and I was sent right back to where I was when I had left. There would be nothing worse than him knowing I still cared about him. But then again, he hadn’t even hinted that he recognized me.

I let the thought of him leave my head. I didn’t need to be worrying about him on my day off. He had come into my life and messed everything up. Since that night I couldn’t stop stressing about having him back in my life. But today, I was determined to not let it get to me. Instead I was going to focus on getting some things done.

I didn’t end up starting anything remotely productive until late in the afternoon by taking a load of laundry to the machines downstairs. While the washer ran I tried distracting myself by reading a book but the thought of James wallpapered my mind. The sight of his face at the table could be recalled with such detail. How did he manage to stay so cold? It took every ounce of composure to keep up the ruse in front of my friends but for him it seemed effortless. I hated this whole situation. For a brief moment I even thought I hated Elizabeth but then I realized how she was just as I was when I met James. It was a crime how easy it was for him to command the attention of any girl he wanted, and as he proved at Starbucks, how easy it was for him to forget.

It barely took any focus to put the clothes in the dryer, and another hour passed in the same way. I was starting to worry myself at how much I was obsessing over this. So he was with my friend? I barely knew her anyway.

I folded the last of my clothes and placed my book in the basket with them. With that final gesture I was resolute. I wouldn’t worry about it any more. I had a life that was going perfectly fine. Besides the fact that it was completely empty. Scratch that.

Unfortunately, life never really worked that way. As soon as I had decided to forget him and I was walking back to the elevators, I caught a glimpse of someone at the entrance of the building banging their hands on the intercom. I would feel rude staring but when I finally did look over I saw it was James. His hands slid off the box in defeat and he ran a hand through his dark hair, still unaware of my looking at him, frozen with shock.

He then proceeded to try opening the door. It was at that point he looked up and saw me. A look of surprise at first but it quickly turned to pleading to let him in and I couldn’t help but follow my feet over there and open the door for him.

“Thanks Daize.” So he did remember me, how nice. “I came here to see you. Can we talk?”

I surveyed him up and down and he shifted his weight under my gaze. That action alone seemed genuine enough for me. I remembered it being a nervous habit of his.

“Yeah, sure.” I gestured for him to follow me, “come on up.”

The elevator ride was awkward. I don’t think either of us knew what to say. We were beyond pleasantries and whatever he wanted to talk about he obviously couldn’t here.

Even the hallway seemed longer with the tension between us. He tried to make conversation as we headed towards my door.

“I see you’re still reading Bodart.” He gestured to my laundry basket.

“Not everything changes,” there was an obvious anger hidden in my words causing a silence to follow.

“I’ve just got to put these in the bedroom, feel free to make yourself comfortable.” I said as we entered my apartment. I was suddenly very conscious my appearance and tried to smooth my dishevelled hair when I reached the bedroom.

When I returned to the living room he was sitting uncomfortably on the couch, his whole body looked stiff, like if he got too comfortable he would compromise himself. I hated how I could remember the times when my presence brought him ease. How his face was engulfed by a genuine grin when I walked in the room, not some awkward smile. Back when we were friends.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, I’m fine.”

I nodded and sat down on the arm chair and waited for him to start saying whatever it was he came here to say. There were certain things I wanted to hear but none of them were what I was actually expecting.

“You look amazing. England did you well.”

“Yeah, it was fun. I learnt a lot. It was a good experience.”

Slowly he was getting more comfortable but I could tell there was still a guard up. This wasn’t like it would have been a year ago. “You changed your hair. I like it.”

“What did you come here to talk about James?”

He took a deep breath, realizing whatever it was he had to say he would finally have to spit it out.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what you’re doing with my friend? Or for pretending I was nothing?”

This wasn’t going to help anything but I wanted to be left alone. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him recoil at my words. I couldn’t help but look at him now. I needed to know if he was sincere.

“I didn’t want Elizabeth knowing about our history. What do you think I’m doing with her?”

“Stringing her along,”

“What would possibly make you think that? I like her.”

The conversation came to a halt. He was in love with her, or at least that’s what I took from it. Not me. I don’t know what I was expecting, logic was never my strong suit in situations like these.

“You didn’t have to be so cold.”

“I reacted like a child, I know. I should have told her that we used to be friends but it was just easier to pretend we weren’t.”

I ran my hand through my hair and groaned, “now I’m in an awkward situation.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s my friend.”

“And so am I, so just… be happy for us.”

On the outside I worked to portray a front unaffected by his words but they hurt to know that he wanted her. I wondered if she read with him or if they danced to Nina Simone.

“Well I don’t know what’s appropriate in these situations but I was going to make cheese ravioli for dinner, if you want to stay.” I would outstretch the hand of hospitality but I knew that deep down every moment with him would hurt, as much as I had wanted him back in my life.

“Sure. I mean, just because I’m with Elizabeth doesn’t mean I can’t have friends.”

In the kitchen we started getting the ingredients out. Like old times I worked on the sauce and noodles while James chopped the peppers. We talked about the time we had spent apart. I would steal a piece of pepper after he cut it, and he would stick his finger in the sauce.

It was sad catching up. Since I had left, his life had been all movies and fame and PhDs although he did mention some Oscar fiasco. I remembered when he called me with the news that he would be hosting but I didn’t have the heart to watch it in England. I avoided all things Oscars or James related. It served me well for the most part but I inevitably heard a bit about it.

When James finished chopping peppers he sat down on chair across the island, and I stirred the sauce over the stove.

“Clara tells me you got her some new business,” I tried to start a conversation again.

He was leaning on one forearm, his other hand in the air as he spoke, “just some friends of mine. No big deal.”

A feature of his I hadn’t even noticed I had missed was the way his hands moved when he spoke. He had large strong hands with veins I often caught myself staring at. That’s weird, isn’t it? To find someone’s arm veins attractive.

“That’s not what she told me. She said a bunch of new customers were buying her stuff. Her thread collection was nearly gone.”

I turned away from the stove to take another look at him. Somehow he had gotten his hands on a stick of celery and was eating it. I watched the vein on his hand and chuckled at myself under my breath. But that chuckle was equal parts a sigh in principle. I was laughing at myself but at the same time I was laughing so as not to be sad for the fact that after all we were still just friends. At least we seemed to be getting on better than before I left. Perhaps time does heal all wounds.

His bulky shoulders shrugged under his plaid shirt, a devilish smirk played on his lips. “I may have spread the word, a little bit.”

The sauce began to bubble in the pot signalling that it was nearly ready. “Well thanks. She was about to give up her gallery.”

“I’m glad she didn’t. I love her work.”

I turned the burner off and grabbed the chopped up vegetables and added them to the sauce.

“Do you still have all those pieces up?”

“Every last one of them.”

The sunlight coming in from the windows was merely an orangey glow as the sun began to set. We set the table by the window in a make-shift way. James put out napkins which he folded into triangles, and placed the cutlery we needed on the table. The last of the sunlight was pouring in on our meal as we sat down to eat.

I wondered how long this could last. This friendship was doomed to fail, was it not? I mean he had a girlfriend and I was still partially in love with him.

But as we ate I didn’t let it get to me. I ignored the questions and worries and just enjoyed the first pleasurable meal I had had with James since Telluride.