“You talk about Bella all the time” he says, kissing her nose. “When will I meet this friend of yours?”
She scratches the base of his skull, stalling.
“Soon” she replies, belly sinking.
The truth is, she hates when worlds collide. Mama always told her she should let go, flow like water, but even back then, she preferred no overlap in the Venn Diagram of her life. Maybe on some level she knew this would happen, as if it was just a matter of fate, the fault of the stars – like the angle between Mercury and Saturn at the the exact moment of her birth.
…
When they lost touch the first time, she taught herself to love with her head. A theoretical love, one that felt real because the alternative was to let go of him, of what could have been. During this phase of her life she convinced herself that it was possible to love many – that love was nuanced and complex. Ironically she and Bella would spend hours on the phone talking about this, dissecting love from a safe distance.
“If I didn’t like men,” Bella says smiling “I probably would have tried something, you know!”
she laughs in response, heart full because she knows the feeling.
…
One day, when she was hiding under the covers, he promised he wouldn’t tell her when his eyes wandered. “Because I’ll never act on it” was the caveat he offered. Looking back, she can’t remember if his caveat was a promise too.
…
On really bad days the memories flood her mind, one after the other, of the times he broke his promise, of the times she should have realized the gravity of these worlds colliding
…
“Elliot is great!” he says on the drive home. “Bella too, though I’d like to meet her without him, see how she is on her own, you know?”
She looks at him, face dark, then light with the passing streetlamps.
“It felt like we were talking, and you two were talking, catching up… I didn’t get much of a chance to get to know her.”
She turns to the passenger window, eyes flicking, barely grasping the darkening scenery.
…
Home Sweet Home 