Marie Sexton - Coda 05 - Paris A to Z (17 page)

he would take one look at me and somehow know what I had done. He would look in my eyes and see the desire I had felt for another man. And not just
any
man either, but Jonathan, the man hed always been jealous of.

It was absurd. I didnt want Jonathan back. Not really. It was far too late to try to reclaim what we might have had, and I wouldnt have given up Angelo for anything. But I couldnt help wondering how different my life would be if I had only faced Jonathan rather than driving him away.

I wandered aimlessly until I started to get cold. I was wearing only my jogging clothes, and while theyd been enough to keep me warm as I ran, now that I was walking, they were completely insufficient. I was getting hungry too. I stopped walking and looked around. Id been stumbling around with my eyes on the past, and now I was completely lost.

The buildings around me didnt help at all. Everything looked the same. I went to the next intersection, looking for a landmark, hoping to find anything that looked familiar. I could see the Tuileries Gardens only a block or two ahead, with the sun glinting off the Seine on the other side. That meant the hotel was behind me, but I wasnt sure if I needed to go

east or west. I checked the street signs, although I had no idea why. Knowing what street I was on told me nothing. I cursed myself for never having paid attention when we were out walking around. Id blindly followed wherever Cole led, never bothering to actually get my bearings in the city.

It took me another hour of wandering to find the hotel, by which point I was angry, bitter, and freezing cold. As if that wasnt enough, I was also starving.

“Where the hell have you been?” Angelo asked when I got back to the room. He didnt seem to be angry so much as confused, but it annoyed me nonetheless.

“I got lost,” I snapped.
“Wasnt Jon with you?” he asked.
Shit. I should have known that question would come next, and I

didnt know how to answer. I didnt want to tell Angelo what had happened, but I wasnt good at lying on the fly. I couldnt think of any reason to give him for having left Jon standing on the corner while I wandered around Paris on my own. I tried to cover up my discomfort by saying, “I need to shower.” I turned and headed for the bedroom, but he followed me.

“What happened, Zach?”
“Nothing.”
“I know youre lyin.”
Of course he did. “I dont want to talk about it.”
“Did you get in a fight?”
“No.” If only it had been that simple.
“Then tell me what the fuck happened.” He was suspicious now at

“I said
I don’t want to talk about it
.”
“Zach,” he said, his voice low and angry, and I knew he was about to ask me another question, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. I hoped he couldnt see how relieved I was.

Angelo walked to the door and opened it to find Jonathan on the other side.

Jon looked embarrassed. He barely glanced at me, and he couldnt look at Angelo at all. He looked at the floor and said, “Id like to talk to Zach.”

Angelo turned to glare at me. If he was suspicious before, he was doubly so now. The seconds seemed to tick by in slow motion as Angelo considered it. He had one hand on the doorknob, and I wouldnt have been surprised to see him shut it in Jons face. My heart was pounding. Part of me wondered what Jon wanted to say. Part of me was scared to find out.

Angelo was still looking at me with accusation in his eyes. “Zach?” he asked, obviously expecting me to say either yes or no.
I couldnt stand it. I didnt have the strength to deal with either one of them at the moment, and now both of them were staring at me, both of them waiting for me to answer. One was hopeful and the other angry. One wanted me to say yes, and the other was demanding that I say no.
I had no idea what to do, and in the end, I took a page out of Angelos book and said simply, “What the fuck ever.”
Angelos eyes flashed and his jaw clenched, but he opened the door for Jon. He didnt even look at me as he pushed past me on his way to the bedroom, and I knew Id be working to smooth things over with him once Jon was gone. I hoped I could handle it.
Jon came in and closed the door, not quite looking at me, and I sat down on the back of the couch and waited for him to speak. He seemed to be working up the nerve to say whatever it was that was on his mind, and I waited. It helped because it gave me time to calm down a bit. I took some deep breaths and made myself relax. My heart slowed to something like a reasonable pace, and the anger Id felt before faded. It left me feeling slightly sick. And exhausted. And incredibly guilty. In the end, it was me who broke the silence.
“Im really happy for you and Cole,” I said, and I was surprised to realize how much I meant it. I noticed, too, how just hearing Coles name made him smile.
“Thank you,” he said. “Im happy for you too. I wasnt before, when

we saw each other in Vegas. But I am now.”
“Do you think were both finally where we need to be?”
“Yes,” he said. “And its a good place for both of us.” He was right. Id known from the moment Id watched Angelo washing paint from the brushes in the back room of A to Z that he was going to become my whole life. And I had no regrets about that at all. “Im glad you came. I knew youd have reservations about it. About seeing me again. But I dont want things to be bad between us.”
“I know.”
He turned to look at me, and he looked hurt and confused. I tried not to think how many times Id seen that look on his face before. And every time, it had been my fault. “Id hoped wed be able to put the past behind us,” he said. “Isnt that what you want?”
“Yes,” I sighed. More than anything, I wanted that too. I wanted to look at him and not feel the guilt bearing down on me.
“I want for us to be friends.” There was a tightness in his voice that surprised me. He was fighting tears. I still knew him well enough to know that. “I want for us to be able to see each other without so much pain.”
“Id like that too,” I said. “I just seem to have a harder time with it than you.” He nodded, and for a moment there was only silence. I hesitated, debating how much to say. It was hard, but it seemed that this was my chance to finally set things right. I knew if I let it pass me by, Id regret it in the end. “I dont know how you can not hate me,” I finally said.
“I never did,” he said, shaking his head. “It might have been easier if I had. I wished for a long time that things had been different.”
“I feel terrible about the way it ended,” I said, “and the things I did.”
He waved his hand at me dismissively, although the pain in his eyes belied his casual gesture. “It was twelve years ago.”
“That doesnt excuse it.”
He sighed heavily. “I know. Im not saying it does. But I spent a long time looking back. A
long
time.”
“Im sorry about that.”
“Dont be. Its part of what got me where I am today.”
“Im not sure that excuses it either.”
He thought about that for a moment, then he stepped closer. We were close to the same height, but with me sitting on the back of the couch, I had to look up to meet his eyes. “You know that Robert Frost quote, „the best way out is always through? I finally know what that means, Zach. Looking back doesnt get you anywhere. For the first time in twelve years, Im looking forward. And I like what I see.”
“Can you ever forgive me?”
He put his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers in my hair, his thumb brushing my cheek. After twelve years apart, it was a gesture that was still heartbreakingly familiar. “I already did.” He stopped, hesitated, much as I had done. Like he was trying to decide how much to say. And like me, he apparently decided that this was the best opportunity we would ever have. “We loved each other so much, Zach,” he said quietly. “Sometimes Im still not sure how we let it go so wrong.”
“It was my fault—”
“It wasnt.” He shook his head. “Not yours alone, at any rate.”
“If only I had talked to you—”
“If only I had let you live your life the way you wanted to live it, you wouldnt have felt the need to push me away.”
That hit home—the fact that he knew what he had done. Maybe he hadnt known back then, but he did now. I felt a lump form in my throat, and my voice was shaky when I said, “I wanted so much to be good enough for you.”
“You were,” he said quietly. “Im sorry I didnt realize it.”
“Jonathan….” My voice was thick with unshed tears, and I fought hard to keep them from forming. I had a feeling if I allowed myself to start crying now, Id never stop. “Im so sorr—”
“Shh,” he said, and his thumb brushed my lips. “No more apologies. It doesnt matter anymore. I have what I want, and you have what you want. You need to stop looking back at what we lost. I finally learned to let it go, Zach, and I think its time you did the same.”
The lump in my throat threatened to choke me. My voice failed me completely. I could only nod.
“Take care of Angelo,” he said, “and let him take care of you.” His eyes darted to my lips, and I realized what he was going to do only a second before it happened. I closed my eyes. And I didnt stop him.
It wasnt erotic or romantic. But that brief kiss—his hand holding the back of my neck, the still-familiar softness of his touch, and the trembling of his breath against my lips—was one of the most powerful moments of my life.
It was closure.
I hadnt realized until the moment he gave it to me how much I had needed it. He let me go, and I sat there, eyes closed, my whole body shaking, until I heard the hotel room door close. When I opened them again, Angelo was there, waiting.
I couldnt even face him. I knew hed be upset or jealous. Part of me knew I should be jumping up to reassure him. But I just didnt have the strength. I put my head in my hands and asked, “How much did you see?” I was fighting hard to get myself together.
“Enough,” he said. But there was no anger in his voice. No accusation. I heard him cross the room to stand in front of me. I was afraid to look at his face. I was afraid of what I might find there. He put his hand on my shoulder. Just that tiny touch, so soft and yet so understanding. I was still sitting on the back of the couch, and I slowly looked up into his eyes. I saw only compassion.
“Im so sorry, Ang,” I said. “I didnt mean—”
“Shut up, Zach,” he said. His words were harsh, but his voice was gentle. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and I felt my control breaking. Emotions Id been fighting since wed arrived in Paris— maybe longer—welled up in my chest, threatening to suffocate me. The shame of not having been strong enough to make Jonathan happy, and the guilt for having hurt him so much, and the pain of losing him when all along, Id loved him so much. Angelos voice was a quiet whisper in my ear. “Just let it go,” he said. And the next thing I knew, I was sobbing in his arms. I had no strength to stop it. I gripped handfuls of his T-shirt, buried my face in his chest, and lost myself to the grief. My whole body shook with the force of it, and he only held me tighter.
Id comforted him many times, but now our positions were reversed. For the first time ever, it was me who was broken and him making soothing sounds in my ear as he held me. “I know how much you loved him, Zach,” he said quietly. “I know how much it hurts.”
And my sweet Angelo, who only two years earlier couldnt even bear to hear Jons name, comforted me while I finally mourned what Id lost twelve years before.