“Did I cry? I bet I was a crier.”
“No. You didn’t. You were so strong.”
As Tristan paid for dinner, Josie wondered where that strength had gotten her, half dead and with no memories.
They walked hand in hand through Seaport Village, pausing to window-shop, though neither one paid much attention to the items. Tristan focused on the way her tiny fingers wrapped around his, the click-clack rhythm of her shoes against the pavement, and their distorted reflection in the shop windows.
“What does this one represent?” Josie asked, tapping her finger over a watch face tattooed on the inside of his left wrist.
“My birth, the exact minute I joined the living.”
“What about this one?”
Josie reached up to the side of his neck, running her thumb along the two lines of script below his ear.
“‘Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt,’” he said. “Vonnegut’s protagonist in Slaughterhouse-Five coins the phrase regarding death. Sort of something to look forward to.”
Josie’s eyes searched his own, getting lost in his ability to make her understand such complicated notions.
“Come on,” he said lightly, tugging on her hand.
He dragged her into a hat shop, where they tried on hats and laughed at each other until their sides hurt. Tristan stuck an enormous beach hat onto Josie’s head and tugged on the floppy brim. She smiled and slid a fedora onto him. He pulled it down over one eye, and they stood in front of the large framed mirror.
“You look hot,” she said, staring at his reflection.
“Sold,” Tristan replied, winking at her.
Josie blushed and placed her hat back on the shelf while Tristan paid for his. She found it odd that despite all the deviant things she’d done, she’d never felt timid. Tristan could bring these alien feelings to the surface. He had a way of making her believe she was worthy of innocence.
When they stepped into Upstart Crow, a coffeehouse and bookstore, Josie could see how Tristan delighted in being surrounded by the written word. She just knew he could spend hours scouring every shelf for books. While she didn’t share his passion, she loved seeing him happy and in his element.
“Don’t worry, I’ll limit myself,” he said, placing a kiss on her cheek.
He pulled her down row after row of books. When something caught his attention, he would examine the cover as if studying a painting. Then he’d flip to the back and read whatever review or description was there. Last, he’d fan the pages a few times. Josie marveled at the ritual and smiled every time he handed her one to buy.
Thirty minutes and four books later, they shared a piece of cheesecake and an iced mocha in the coffeehouse.
Tristan persuaded Josie to ride the carousel with him, so they parked themselves on the bench surrounded by parading animals. The golden lights and mirrors reflected the couple, and Tristan couldn’t help but think about what a sight they were. As the ride began to move, he pulled her in closer with his arm around her shoulders.
“Did you know carousels were first used as combat training devices by the Turkish? There’s proof of their existence all the way back to 500 A.D.”
Josie smiled at his fact reciting, loving all the useless information.
“Really? Tell me more,” she teased.
Tristan rolled his eyes and placed a soft kiss below her ear. They watched as children bobbed up and down on their horses and tigers. The organ music lulled them into a state of ease as they spun, like two lovers rotating around their own axis.
When the ride was over, he led her to the water, where they stood beneath one of the lamps dotting the bay. One by one, the shop windows went dark. The day finished with Closed signs and locked doors. Tristan leaned against the rail, his back to the water, and pulled Josie in against him. He tilted his chin down and captured her lips. Josie moaned into his mouth as his hands slid down to her lower back. She could feel his racing pulse against her body, his warmth and heat surrounding her. She wanted more. She always wanted more.
Tristan spun them and held Josie against the rail, trapping her with his arms on each side. His body pressed into her back as she sighed and looked out over the water. The lights from Coronado shone from the island, bouncing off the water like rippling ribbons. The sky hosted a blanket of stars and the waxing moon shone just for them. Josie closed her eyes, wanting to memorize every bit of this moment. She just knew it would never get better than this.
Rob met Monica at her apartment. They’d made plans to stay in and watch a movie. She had no need for formal dates and grand gestures. They’d just skip over the usual dating rituals and get right to the heart of it, time alone and lots of it.
This feeling that engulfed them and held them to each other was powerful. Monica found it easy to be herself around Rob, though for so long she wasn’t sure who that was. She was so consumed with work and the children that she didn’t know what things made her whole.
He leaned against her doorframe, his dirty blond hair hanging in his eyes. His casual stance was pure confidence. The way his baby blues lit up when Monica was near made her want to run away with him and disappear into the night. Rob stepped aside and let her unlock the door while he peppered kisses on her neck from behind. Her attention faltered as she fumbled with her keys. When she finally unlocked the door, he pulled the giant bag from her shoulder and set it down inside.
“Damn, babe. What do you have in there? A dead body?” Rob asked.
“No, not today. Today it’s just clothes and accessories. All the essentials for a perfect date. Well, not my date, of course. Josie’s date. She’s a friend. Well, kind of a friend. She met this new guy, only he’s not new. She knew him before. Well, before some crazy shit went down. I was just helping her get ready.”
“Don’t even ask me to recap that,” Rob said, grinning.
Monica felt just a little reprieve from the suffocating guilt usually associated with Josie Banks. She’d done a good deed today. She’d been so excited when Josie called asking for assistance. Anything she could do to make amends with this girl, she would. If there was something Monica had practice with, it was dating. She’d been on so many in the last decade she’d lost count. While not all of them had been miserable failures, none of them had felt right. Not like Rob. He felt perfect and final, like the end of her searching.
“Can you believe I had to go shopping today because someone stole almost all of my underwear yesterday?” Monica yelled from her bedroom.
“What?”
“Yeah, I brought a load of laundry down to the basement but forgot my quarters for the machine. So I left it. Ran up here to get the money. By the time I got back down there, the entire basket was gone. Oh! I was so pissed off. I mean, who would want dirty laundry?”
“You have some weird neighbors,” Rob answered, troubled by the missing laundry.
“No shit,” Monica said absently, flipping through her mail.
“What movie did you get?”
“Some horror movie where everyone gets hacked up and no one gets out alive,” she answered. “I’m sure all the standard rules apply. Never say ‘I’ll be right back.’ Don’t go check out that strange noise.” Monica entered the living room and smirked at him. “And never, ever have sex. That’s a sure way to get yourself dead.”
“Those killers must be advocates for celibacy,” he muttered. “The idiots.”
“Well, we could just skip the movie and hump like bunnies,” she offered.
“Only if you can ensure our safety from psychotic serial killers, darlin’.”
“There are no guarantees,” Monica teased, unbuttoning her blouse as she backed slowly toward the bedroom.