Page 30 of Like It's 1999

“Oh my god, these are amazing.” Kate’s snuck up to my side. She picks up the photo of both kids on the couch, and the expression on her face is exactly what I was hoping for. I’d propped Billy up next to Immie while she pretended to read him a book.

“We took them to a studio to try and get pictures before Christmas, but they both just cried the whole time. These are… they’re like art.” She sets the photo down and shifts Billy onto her shoulder, patting his back and bouncing. “How did you get them developed so fast?”

“I did it.”

“You did it? How?”

“I took a class at an arts center last year.” I shrug. “Yesterday, in the Yellow Pages, I found a darkroom in Cambridge that rents space.” I pull the unframed shots out of an envelope and fan them out on the table. “It’s calming, watching the images come alive. Even magical. Like I’ve preserved a little moment of time.”

“Well, obviously, the subjects here are extraordinarily beautiful”—she grins as she bumps my shoulder—“but I’d say you have a gift. You should be doing this, like, professionally.”

I stifle a groan. “Yeah, I don’t think I could spend my days taking pictures of other people’s kids.”

She winces. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Before I can come up with other reasons why I can’t do this as actual work, she asks, “But what about, I don’t know… as a journalist?”

I sigh. “Well, I do have an idea. But I’m not sure it’s worth anything.”

“Come sit with me. I need to nurse Billy on the other side.”

I follow her to the den, but I can’t sit down. I’m too nervous. Kate knows me better than anyone in the world and will always be supportive, but she won’t bullshit me either. If this is a dumb idea, she’ll tell me.

STEVE

On my flight back to California, I can’t stop thinking about Alice, to the point that I feel guilty, like I’m cheating on Susan or something. But it’s not like that, exactly. It’s just—it was like the Alice I planned Kate’s wedding with has been papered over by this woman from a different decade. Some 1950’s housewife.

It’s sad.

But if I’m being honest, have I really done much better? I went out west to do something new, but I’m still floating along, bouncing from a job that a friend got me to one that Susan’s cousin got me. I’m making tons of money—not enough to really save since it’s stupid expensive to even breathe in Silicon Valley—but I feel like I’m still skating on the surface of life, just like I did in my twenties, when it was all about the next deal, the next girl.

Susan’s great, but sometimes I wonder if I love being a part of her family more than I love her. I’m honestly not quite sure how we got from casually dating to being serious. I don’t even remember asking her to marry me. I was pulled into her orbit and then suddenly a wedding’s being planned. I’m just along for the ride.

Kind of how I do everything.

Something else has been niggling at me. Something that has nothing to do with Susan, or Alice for that matter. I have an idea for a start-up of my own, but I’ve never done anything like it before. My gut’s telling me that it’s time to get out of the venture capital game and out of Silicon Valley. This bull market can’t last forever. Going in a completely new direction scares me, but in a good way.

Which brings me back to Alice. Hugging her felt like… well, like I was truly awake for a minute there. I swear I could actually feel every single one of my nerve endings firing at once.

But she’s married, and I’m about to be.

Guess I’ll have to figure out a way to fire up my life without her.

Part Four

December, 1999

“You had me at hello.”

Dorothy,Jerry Maguire

STEVE

I’m unpacking boxes in the new Boston apartment when my phone rings. After lifting it from the dock to check the screen—man, I love the new features in my Palm V, so worth the splurge for the new model—I don’t recognize the number, but something makes me pick up anyway. “Hello?”

No one answers. I’m about to hang up when I hear, “Shit!”

The voice sounds familiar, so I ask again. “Hello?” almost like?—

“Steve?”

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