Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

Romance

Romance

From then on, I started to see Lucy differently. Maybe because I was so desperate for something to hold on to, or just maybe because, in all her brave complexity, she was the right woman for me at that time.

“We both like it messy and that’s all right,” Lucy said one night after we’d decided we didn’t care what our co-workers thought anymore, and walked home together. “Before you know it, it all becomes too romantic and incredibly boring.”

“You really get me, Lucy. I wish I’d seen that when we first met.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Too romantic.”

“What about all those months of pining after me?” I joked. “You have to see the romance in that.”

“But that’s the right kind, the tragic, painful kind.” She turned her head towards me. “And trust me, being with Joan was plenty painful.” She rubbed her behind in memory of more smarting days.

I giggled stupidly. “It looks like we made it in the end.”

“Against all odds,” she said and drew me closer to her. “Let’s enjoy this moment, though.” I could feel her breath in my hair. “Because who knows what will happen next?”

Heartbreak and failure at love had driven me into Lucy’s arms, I never forgot that. Claire and especially Lou still occupied much more of my thoughts than what was strictly necessary. But once Alex had quit working for Sanders & Burns our lives had no reason for colliding anymore. And slowly, with every picture I crumpled and every formerly treasured text message I deleted, I took one more step away from them. Lucy and I carved out our own story, with our own little hang-ups and frustrations, but mostly with a good deal of unmistakably romantic happiness. I breezed into my thirties, leaving my romantically challenged twenties behind once and for all, and it felt like a new beginning. Blogging The Globe began setting up offices around the world and whenever possible, Lucy took me with her. Months went by without a hint of drama. We were simply too busy being content and, in ways, oddly satisfied with each other. I loved Lucy, that was clear, but it wasn’t the all-encompassing devouring I’ll-take-anything passion I’d had for Claire. It was a more stable kind of emotion, more human as well, with a much better chance at survival. Maybe this is it, I thought. Maybe it doesn’t have to be difficult. I’ll just grow old and dull with Lucy Rowe. If only I hadn’t let myself believe that. I should have known better, should have known myself better, but I was blinded by something. Love or foolishness or both, or maybe they were just the same. 

It started on a cold damp day in January, my last January in London for a while, but I didn’t know that yet. I’d finished an interview with an up-and-coming digital artist at a Costa Coffee in Covent Garden when Theresa, my former boss and the Sanders in Sanders & Burns, walked in.

“Oh Lee,” she said. “I thought the earth had swallowed you whole.” She hugged me with her typical zeal, nearly crushing my windpipe on her collarbone. “What did I tell you about keeping in touch?”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to. The circumstances haven’t been particularly inviting, that’s all.”

“Excuses, excuses. Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

And so it all began to unravel, again.

To be continued…