Page 120 of Only After We Met

“We should change our arrangement, right?”

“Like setting boundaries? I don’t know…”

“Just at the beginning, okay? When I leave, at least for a while, I’d rather not know what you’re doing or with whom. And then…” Without realizing it, I brought my hand to my chest, nervous. “Then everything will go back to normal, I’m sure of it. After the first few months. We’ll forget this…”

“What if I don’t want you to forget it?”

I stood up. Rhys let me go, and I walked out of the bathroom. I grabbed a towel and looked at him, thinking, while I covered myself up, asking myself if I could cover up other things too: my heart, my mind, my true nakedness. I realized I knew better than him the danger we were in. Or else we didn’t feel it the same way. Or we didn’t feel the same, period.

“I’m going to need it though, Rhys, because it’s the one way to move forward. We talked about that, right? We’re making this upas we go along. And then we’ll be friends again.”

“I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

“I’m not. It’s not that…” I hesitated, nervous. “It’s just… I think I should buy my return ticket, not because I’m planning on leaving yet, but just to have a date, you know? So we’ll know how much time we have left. It’ll be easier that way. More practical.”

He fixed me in his gray-eyed stare. His eyes were intense. Deep. Wounded.

“Do what you want.”

I bought my ticket on his laptop in his room. He spent a while longer in the tub, and when he came out, I heard him pour himself a glass of whiskey and walk out to the patio. I thought of the date: the day after his birthday. Just two more weeks. Did I make a mistake? I got in bed and rolled around.

A while later, I felt his weight on the mattress. The smell of alcohol. His hand around my waist pulling me into him. But I knew he was still angry. The problem was that we felt the same, but we still couldn’t understand each other. We weren’t aware yet that we were two mirrors.

66

Ginger

The days ran together: long drives on the motorcycle to watch the sun set in Benirrás, walks down to the beach, which was surrounded by trees and paths and hills, letting the serenity envelop us as we listened for the faint sound of nearby drums or the murmurs of the people. When we sat on the sand, Rhys would grab my hand and draw spirals on it with his fingers. I’d smile, close my eyes, and take deep breaths of sea air, feeling the breeze blow through the light T-shirts and dresses I’d bought at the markets on the island. I’d stopped wearing a bra one morning, when I went to the beach alone because Rhys was still asleep. I had splashed around, taken off my bikini top, and laid on the sunny shore, arms extended, listening to the seagulls coming close over the coast. Maybe it was stupid, but I’d felt freer than ever, lighter, happier. Leaving behind my life in London, the life that had tied me down and kept me from thinking about what I really wanted, was like tearing away a veil and finally seeing the light. Opening my eyes, but differently, seeing everything from a new perspective.

And Rhys had been the ideal companion on that voyage. He’dnever told me directly that I had to break free, but he had always been there waiting for me in case I ever did.

One afternoon, when the sky was red like a pomegranate that had exploded and shed its color over everything, I looked at him, squinting.

“What?” he murmured.

“Thank you, Rhys. Seriously.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking how good I feel, how lucky I am to be here right now, watching this sunset with you. Come here and kiss me.”

Rhys bent over and trapped my lips tenderly. When we separated, I rested my head on his shoulder and looked at the gathering clouds.

“I don’t want this summer to ever end.”

Me neither,I thought. But I didn’t say it aloud.

67

Rhys

Three days, eight hours. That was exactly how much time we had left until Ginger caught her plane back to London. I was starting to hate that city.London. And I hated the feeling pressing down on my chest. This had been the best summer of my life, but I kept noticing the bittersweet taste in my mouth every time I kissed her. It was our impending goodbye: a thorn in my side, a rock in my shoe, a stomachache, anger, selfishness…

“Stop scowling like that.” Ginger reached out and smoothed my forehead with her thumb, smiling under the light of the patio where we were having dinner. “You haven’t asked me again what I’ve been up to these past few days.”

Recently, when I’d been working, she’d stayed behind at the apartment, sitting at the table on the balcony and writing nonstop in a little notebook she carried everywhere she went. She was also looking up things on my computer. I knew what she was doing. Of course I did. My curiosity had made me look at her search history, but I didn’t want to pressure her or even bring the subject up until she’d decided.

“You want to tell me?”