Bend Fly Run

Paris: January 2020

"What are you thinking?"

We were lying in bed. We had met hours before at the airport, navigated the metro with our hands together. The moment the door of our hotel closed I kicked my bag to the side. His eyes burned. He carried me to the mattress. Over three months we had spent without each other. The hills of Montmartre watched through breaks in the curtain, the sky changing. By the time I answered- flirting with dusk.

"That I missed you."

He kissed me. I let go of my breath.

"What are you really thinking?"

The chorus blared.

At the airport I thought sex would fix it. He was special, not another line on a page- "time-clearing," remember? Proof of universe and destiny and all things beautiful. It was beautiful. But after I lay weighted against the sheet, heavy from the metal of my rusted chest. I could hear the chorus. I could feel the warm slash of their stares. Choice after all. A cruel one; another next. Who wouldn't feel a spark amid the sapphire sea of Bondi, the sound of its waves? Who wouldn't want to dance beneath the orange light of Maui, laugh at the thrill of its ocean-carved cliffs? Who wouldn't fall in love in a city of centuries and millions, the history of romance bled within its every stone? How could I've been so naive to believe in destiny, paint over my wrongs with alignment and fate? Repeat my sin and parade it as progress- what had I been thinking? What was I thinking now?

That I hurt her.

That it would never be good if it began as that.

"When you and Sophie broke up, did you mention me?"

Elliot startled. He turned over. "Why are you thinking that?"

"Why won't you answer it?"

"I will, I'm just wondering why you're asking."

"And I'm wondering why you won't answer."

He frowned. He sat up in the bed, his back against the headboard.

I did the same.

"She wanted a break before Hawaii, she kept saying we weren't enough. After the trip, when I told her I agreed, she asked what changed my mind. I said I had spent time with someone else, that it helped me to see she was right. I didn't tell her we nearly kissed or anything like that. I wanted to be honest but I didn't want to cause her pain, or leave her with a bad memory. I'll always care about her. I didn't want to be an asshole."

My chest clung.

"What's going on? Did something happen at the wedding?"

I brushed him away. "But you were an asshole- we both were. You were dating someone else and we spent a week together. Just because you were on the rocks and she doesn't know it happened doesn't make it okay."

"I didn't say it was. If I could change the timeline I would, it's not something I look back on and feel good about. But sharing every detail would only hurt. We weren't going to last regardless. We had problems- it's better now. We have mutual friends- they say she's happy."

"You don't know that."

Elliot sighed.

"What were the problems? That you worked too much?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I need to hear it again."

He got up from the mattress.

"Please," I said. My voice caught. "Elliot- I need to."

He ran a hand through his curl. I thought of our day at Makena. I could smell the salt in his hair, wafting over from every turn in the wind. I rubbed at my nose and he sat on the edge of the bed. "We weren't right for each other; we had fights over small, petty things. We were together because we thought we were supposed to, because we're nice people. Because our friends were together. Because everyone else said we should be." He took my palm. "I could rewrite the breakup line by line but would that help?"