The Good Life Part 18

I nodded.

"I saw how happy you were in New York," he said, "and I want you to be happy. I really do want that for you. If you think you'd be happier there than here with me, I understand. As long as you leave knowing how I feel, that's enough for me."

He was giving me a way out. He was telling me it was okay for me to go back to bed and pretend this never happened. But it wasn't okay with me. I couldn't do that to him. I cared too much to walk away and let him think I didn't love him back.

But asking me to choose between him and New York wasn't fair. That was like choosing between chocolate cake and apple pie. I could pick one tonight if I could have the other tomorrow, but to let one go permanently? How could I? And what if I picked the wrong one, and by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late to change my mind? Ugh, why couldn't we just keep on pretending?

"Jake," I said quietly. "I ..."

"You don't have to say anything," he repeated.

"I think you're kind of amazing, too," I blurted out. "Not even kind of. You're all the way amazing. But I ... it's just ..."

"I know, baby." He put his arms around my neck and pulled me into a choke-hold kind of hug. He rested his chin on the top of my head, and I wrapped my arms tightly around him. The soft worn-out cotton of his t-s.h.i.+rt felt comforting on my cheek as I pressed it into his chest. His familiar smell put my mind at ease, if only for a moment. I clenched my fingers into a fist around his s.h.i.+rt like I was holding on for my life.

"I know," he said again and I felt his breath on my neck. "But it's really not that serious. Just relax. I can take it from here."

"Are you going to take it all the way to New York?" It was the first time the idea had occurred to me. If Jake came to New York, I could have my cake and my pie. If he loved me enough to come with me, I would owe it to him to give him a chance. I would feel a lot safer putting my heart on the line like that if he I knew for sure he loved me that much. It was easy to love someone who was right in front of you. But to move to another state, you've really got to mean it.

I didn't have to wonder for very long. He pulled apart from our hug and held me at arm's length.

"I wish I could. But my business is here. It's taken me ten years to get this far. I can't just throw it all away and start from scratch, Rox."

That was all I needed to hear. He loved me ... just not enough. And that was okay. At least he was honest.

"How about we compromise?" he asked.

I crossed my arms in front of me. "How would that work?"

"You'll go to New York," he said. "I'll stay here. Maybe one day you'll miss me enough to come back. Or maybe half of my clientele will move to New York, too, and I can follow them."

"Or maybe you'll find someone else."

He smiled. "My entire clientele moving to New York is more likely."

You know the way the vampires' faces sparkle in the Twilight movies? I felt like my heart was sparkling the same way.

"How long until you go?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. Two or three weeks. Could be less."

"So how about for the next few weeks we stop pretending?"

"We take it day by day?"

"I was thinking more like lay-by-lay, but I guess either term is acceptable."

"I can do that," I said.

"That means you're mine until you leave, right?"

"Yes," I said with certainty. "I'm yours. And that possessiveness is getting me hot, so hurry up and stake your claim on me."

I'll remember the way he kissed me then for the whole rest of my life.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Honesty really was the magic answer. The Summer of Jake and Roxie: Part Two was a spectacular, 5-star, A+, top-of-the-box-office hit. There was the kind of romance that created b.u.t.terflies in my belly, laugh-out-loud comedy, edge-of-my-seat excitement, p.o.r.n star quality s.e.x scenes and a great soundtrack, as well. We both knew this romance had an expiration date, but we didn't talk about it. We were too obliviously happy to think about anything except when we could touch each other again.

It was nearing the end of August when I got The Phone Call. Jake and I were entwined on the couch watching a Tigers game and trying to throw popcorn into each other's mouths when Hope called.

"Listen," she said.

"Listening."

"J.D.'s cousin's boyfriend finally asked her to move in with him."

I sat up straighter. This was intriguing. That kind of scenario could mean a hand-me-down apartment, and those were the best kind to get.

"Listening more closely."

"The Village. Rent-stabilized. One block from subway."

This was good. This was very good. The most important thing about any Manhattan apartment was its proximity to the subway. The Village was an excellent neighborhood, too. Rent-stabilization was just a cherry on top.

"How long do I have?"

"Ten minutes?"

"s.h.i.+t."

"Tomorrow morning."

"Okay. I'll call you."

I hung up the phone and saw that Jake was giving me a suspicious look.

"That was a vague conversation," he pointed out.

"Yeah."

"And a vague response."

"Yeah."

He sat up straight, which caused me to fall off of him and onto the other end of the couch.

"Something you need to tell me?"

"Hope found an apartment."

"Oh," was all he said. He looked disappointed, and I felt a little bit of disappointment myself. "You sure you can't go to school here?"

I fought the urge to laugh at his question. I could probably find a program around here, but I don't need a culinary education to work at Olive Garden.

"Are you sure you can't take pictures in New York?" was my reb.u.t.tal.

He didn't reply. I don't blame him. That was kind of a s.h.i.+tty thing for me to say.

"It doesn't mean we can't still do our day-to-day," I said hopefully. "I can be done with school in less than a year. I can visit. It could be like a month-to-month lease. I promise you won't be a liability."

He patted my knee. "Sure, we'll figure it out."

"I need to see the apartment first. It could be infested with c.o.c.kroaches the size of baseb.a.l.l.s, and the toilet could be in the shower."

"Then find a different apartment. I don't want to be the reason you are stuck in Ann Arbor. I said I want you to be happy, and I meant it. I'm not gonna be mad at you. I promise. Do what you need to do."

"I need to see this apartment."

"Okay then."

"I'm going to look up flights for the morning."

"If you wake me up, I'll drive you."

I didn't wake him up to drive me because I'd booked a return flight for later that evening. I drove myself and left my car at the airport. I did leave him a cute little love note on the nightstand though, letting him know I'd be home later.

I took a cab from LaGuardia straight to the apartment where Hope and J.D.'s cousin met me. When I walked in I knew I had to have it. It was tiny, as most of them are. But it was a cozy, homey kind of tiny and not a buried alive in a wooden coffin kind of tiny.

It was neglected. The hardwood floors were scuffed and dull. The paint was peeling and stained with cigarette smoke. The small kitchen counter was probably older than my parents. But all I saw in it was a blank slate. I could make it beautiful.

As is the norm for me, I got a little ahead of myself. As I stood in the doorway I was already imagining myself doing homework in the galley-style kitchen like a scene from Julie and Julia. I could speak with a French accent and boil lobsters, and Jake could laugh at me when the lid popped off and I went running from the kitchen ... oh wait, Jake wouldn't be there. And if I went running from the kitchen, I'd trip over the couch or run straight into a brick wall. But the point was that this apartment could be my future. My life was like a brand new notebook and this was the first page. This little apartment in The Village would be where my story began.

I celebrated my new apartment with a shopping trip down Broadway. J.D.'s cousin needed a few weeks to get completely moved out, but she said I could start bringing things in right away. I spent the afternoon at Crate and Barrel, Urban Outfitters and Anthropologie. I was so excited to have an apartment of my very own for the first time ever. Being able to buy window treatments and placemats and a shower curtain without having to ask anyone else's opinion was fun and liberating.

Not that I wasn't thinking about Jake. It bothered me he hadn't called yet to see how things had gone, but I hadn't called him either. It was probably for the best if we distanced ourselves a little now so when the time came for me to move and for us to distance ourselves a lot it might be easier. I knew I was going to miss him like crazy, but I kept telling myself if it were meant to be, it would be.

This was New York, my soul mate. I belonged here. And that was what I kept telling myself. Any time I felt a fresh batch of tears coming to my eyes, I put another item into my shopping bag. It's not called retail therapy for nothing!

Once I lugged all of my shopping bags back over to the apartment and stored them in a closet, I took a walk to explore my new neighborhood. The apartment was two blocks from Was.h.i.+ngton Square Park, in the same area as NYU and Peanut b.u.t.ter and Co where we'd had lunch last time.

I made my way over to the park. It was a beautiful day and, just like last time I was here, the ambiance of the city made me feel at peace. I sat on a bench near a dog run to people-watch for a bit and enjoy the suns.h.i.+ne.

I felt good to be home, but I couldn't deny the fact that something wasn't right. A few weeks ago, when Jake and I had sat on the bench outside of Zabar's, I'd had one of those rare moments in life where everything was perfect. The sun was s.h.i.+ning. I was in my favorite place in the world. There was great food in my hands. I didn't have to worry about money for a little while. I knew I had people in my life who loved me. My split with Caleb had ended up amicable. And to top it all off I was drinking a Zabar's coffee!

Theoretically, I should have been feeling the same thing in Was.h.i.+ngton Square Park. The sun was still s.h.i.+ning. People still loved me. My divorce was completely over and no hard feelings were left behind. I had my own apartment. I was starting school to do something I really wanted to do. I was in my favorite place in the world. There were even puppies around! Puppies! But it wasn't one of those moments, and I knew it wasn't the absence of coffee. It was the absence of Jake. It couldn't possibly be one of those moments without him in it.

My phone rang. Finally, I thought, thinking it was Jake. But it was my dad's number on the screen.

"Hi, Suns.h.i.+ne," he said cautiously. He sounded sad. My heart started beating faster at the sound of his voice.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, my voice shaking a little.

"It's your mom," he said. His voice squeaked a little at the end, which scared the s.h.i.+t out of me. "She's being prepped for emergency surgery in a few minutes. She has an aneurysm in her aorta."

I wasn't sure what an aorta was, but I thought it had something to do with the heart and I knew for sure than an aneurysm was a very bad thing. I stood up and started walking quickly toward the street to look for a cab.

"She only has a few minutes and wanted me to call you and Adam. I'm putting her on," he said.

"Hi, b.u.t.tercup." It was Mom. Oh my G.o.d! Could this be the last time I ever talked to her? It was so sudden. I wasn't prepared! This was one of those things I hadn't prepped for. Not that I'd never thought about it happening, but I'd be a seriously crazy person if I had a speech prepared.

Even so, you'd think with my expertise I'd be able to come up with something better than a high-pitched, "Hi, Mommy."

"What are you doing?" she asked, like it was a normal day and a normal phone call.

"I'm, um, in the city," I told her. "I found an apartment of my own."

"Excellent news!" she said, sounding genuinely happy about it. "I knew you'd be better off without him."

"What did they say about this surgery?" I asked. My voice sounded like that of a little girl. I got that panicky feeling in me again where I wanted to kneel down and cling to her legs and beg her not to go. "Is it risky?"

"Well," she said with a sigh, "not having the surgery is a sure death, so whether it's risky or not, it's the only option. They're coming in just a minute, and I've still got to call your brother."

"Okay, Mom," I said breathlessly as I was still running toward the street. "I'm on my way to the airport right now. I'll probably be there by the time you're in the recovery room."

"Okay, love, I'll see you then. And just in case I don't "

"No!" I interrupted. "You will!"

"I'm really proud of you, baby girl."

I couldn't even say anything because I was crying. It was the face-all-squished-up kind of cry.

"I love you, Mom," I managed to squeak out before the call ended.

Oh G.o.d! What do I do? LaGuardia, JFK or Newark? Who had the next flight to Fort Myers? Why didn't I just buy one of those phones that I could talk to and ask questions?

I sat down on another bench to gain composure and search for flights on my Blackberry. My fingers were shaking as I tried to type in the search bar. Then I had to watch the hourgla.s.s go round and round and round as my dinosaur of a phone took its sweet time to load a page. d.a.m.n you, hourgla.s.s! I hate you! I wanted to take my phone to a field with a baseball bat like they did with the copy machine in Office s.p.a.ce.

Once I knew which airport to head to, I stood up, signaled a cab and climbed in. All the way to the airport I searched on my phone for aortic aneurysms and felt worse by the second. Most of what I read was probably a bunch of nonsense, but I wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize that. All I was seeing were words and phrases like "50% mortality rate" and "highest cause of death" and "one of the riskier surgeries."