“It wouldn’t’ve been fair to you then, and it isn’t fair to me now.”
“No.”
“I hope we can still be friends, though.”
“Me too,” I said. “And maybe if we see each other in the future…”
“And neither of us is dating someone else…”
“We might get together…”
“And rekindle the flame.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me too,” she said softly. She held the phone away from her mouth.
When she came back she said disgustedly, “I’m gonna kill Regan.”
“Low battery?” I laughed. “At least it didn’t happen at the beginning of the call.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m glad we talked, though.”
“Me too.”
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
“Me too. But I hope they do with you and Christy.”
“Thanks. And I hope
“I will. I think. Eventually. Maybe. If I’m lucky.”
“You will be. You’re smart, beautiful, and incredibly compassionate.”
“Try telling that to the guys around here! All they care about is the second one.”
“Then they’re idiots.”
“Crap! It’s beeping at me again.”
“Yeah, we’d better go.”
“I wanna keep in touch, though. I’ll be home for Christmas.”
“Me too. And we can still write letters.”
“We probably won’t, though.”
I started to object but realized she was right.
“I love you, Paul.”
“I love you too.”
“And I know this isn’t goodbye for good, but…”
“It’s goodbye for now.”
“Yeah. So I’ll say it first.” She paused to work up the nerve. “Goodbye, Paul.”
“Goodbye, Gina. Take care.”
“You too. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The line went dead, but I held the phone to my ear until the busy signal shook me out of it. I replaced the handset in its cradle and stared at the ceiling. I don’t know how long I lay there before someone knocked on my door. I dried my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Christy said.
I sat up and wiped my eyes again.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said through the closed door, “and I heard you talking on the phone. I thought you were done, so…”
“C’mon in,” I said after a moment.
She opened the door and hesitantly stuck her head in. Her expression changed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just a tough phone call.”
“Was it Sara?”
“No.” I looked at her steadily.
“It was Gina, wasn’t it?”
I nodded.
Her expression became unreadable, but she didn’t run away.
“Do you want to know?”
“It depends. Does it affect us? You and me?”
“Yes.” I hung on tenterhooks for a minor eternity while she thought about it.
“Tell me,” she said at last.
“Okay. But I have to warn you, it’s an R-rated story. Parts of it might be X-rated.”
“I can handle it.”
I started to ask if she was sure, but she was. Every inch of her said so.
She watched the questions play across my face. Then she came into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Are you sure you wanna talk here?” I said. “In my bedroom? We can go someplace neutral, like the living room.”
She shook her head and sat down beside me.
“Okay. Here goes…”
I told her about seeing Gina again at the wedding, and everything that happened during that weekend. I told her about the phone calls and letters. I fessed up to how I’d made it sound like I was talking to Sara when it was really Gina. I even told her about having phone sex, and how I’d avoided it the second time when it felt like cheating. Finally I told her about the last phone call and how we’d ended it.
Christy sat in silence when I finished.
Part of me felt like I’d just ended my
She finally drew a deep, uncertain breath. “And all this was going on when you and I were…?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“But you ended it with her?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
“For lots of reasons,” I said. “But you were the main one.”
“And you think you still have a chance? With me?”
“I
“You didn’t screw it up,” she said after a moment. “But… I don’t know how I should feel.”
“I understand.”
“Answer one question for me.”
“Okay.”
“Why did you choose me?”
“Because Gina is my past. And I’m hers. That’s one of the things we both realized. We were trying to rekindle something, not start something new.”
“And I’m the ‘new thing’? Is that it?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I said with a chuckle.
“Then how
I turned serious in a hurry and touched her knee until she looked at me. “I think about the future when I’m with you. I don’t think about things we’ve done and how I’d like to do them again.”
“We haven’t done anything.”
“Not sex. Other things. Like your sculpture. We created that together. If we’re lucky, it’ll outlive both of us. And my museum design. That’s
“Sure, I wanna have sex with you,” I admitted. “But that’s not what I mean when I talk about the future. I’m talking about art and buildings. Things that are beautiful and made to last. Things we have in common. And if we’re lucky, maybe a life and a family.”
She suddenly blinked back tears.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, “I’m getting ahead of myself.”
