Page 26 of The Now in Forever
STICK AND POKE
TEN YEARS AGO
At seven, Kat shows me how to close, and after sweeping the store, I head out into the summer evening. The sun’s still going strong, and the air is thick with humidity. It feels like I have to swim, rather than walk. Unlocking my bike, I ride the short way to Boulevard Park with my heart in my throat. Ed probably won’t be at the park, not that I can blame him. He did just get fired.
And I’m right. No one is there. That’s inaccurate… There are a ton of people. People rollerblading like it’s 1996. People eating ice cream from the stand set up in the corner of the park. People smoking weed, trying to be discreet, but the skunk smell gives them away. Tons of people, but not the one person I want to see.
Ed.
I lean my bike against the back of a bench that faces the water and sit down. Maybe I’ll run into him again this summer. New Haven’s not that big. Although in all the summers I’ve been here, I’ve never run into him before.
As I gaze into the water, looking for seals, behind me I hear the sound of small hard wheels on concrete. I turn, but no one’s there, and the sound has stopped too. A few minutes later, I smell clove, orange, and strawberry.
Ed is standing there, his suit jacket gone, his skateboard tucked inbetween his back and his backpack, with a strawberry-vanilla swirl cone held out to me.
He’s here.
Sparklers glimmer in my chest. Not only is he here, but he has my absolute favorite flavor of ice cream. I take the cone.
“How’d you know I like strawberry?”
He pulls a chocolate-vanilla swirl cone from behind his back. “I didn’t. Covered all my bases.”
Taking a lick, he sits on the bench close to me, so close our thighs touch if one of us moves. So of course, I can’t sit still.
We eat our cones, listening to the chatter of the crowded park and the water lapping far below. Eventually, I break the silence. “Sorry you got fired.”
He crunches his cone and says through a mouthful of sugar, “Couldn’t be helped. I’m not cut out for retail.”
I want to ask a million questions, like how will he pay rent? Will he get another job? Is he going to be okay? But he doesn’t seem worried about it, so I shouldn’t be either. Instead of asking any of those questions, I take a lick of my ice cream as he watches me the way a wolf watches an elk, and to my surprise, I like it. A lot. “What’s the plan?”
He stands and holds out his hand to me. “Plans are overrated.”
I take his hand. “Um, no they’re not. If anything, plans are underrated. More people should have a plan.”
He shrugs. “What truly good thing in your life came from planning? Did you plan to meet your book club friends? Did you plan to write the first story you ever wrote? Did you plan to meet me today?” He pulls out his board, and I grab my bike. “The universe has its own plans. Let’s just see where it takes us.”
He hops on his board and skates away, fast. I get on my bike and pedal hard to keep up. The water sparkles as we ride the trail, dodging walkers, strollers, dogs, and other people on bikes. We ride into town and through the back streets, stopping at a light-green house, the paint so dingy it’s almost gray. There’s a ratty plaid recliner on the porch next to a massive glass ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and a charred action figure. The door is wide open.
“You can put your bike up on the porch or inside if you want,” Ed says.
“Will it be safe on the porch?”
Ed purses his lips. “Bring it inside, and then we don’t have to worry about it. We won’t be here long; we just need to grab snacks.”
Ripping a paper off the door, he reads it as he goes inside. The living room is surprisingly clean—filled with light, house plants, and an adorable yellow floral couch. We walk through into the kitchen, where a girl with a short, bright-pink pixie cut is holding the arm of a man with dark-black hair and light-brown skin. He’s looking away, almost wincing as she takes a needle and pokes his arm, stopping every now and then to dip it in ink.
“Hey, Sasha. Hey, Lenny,” Ed says.
“She’s torturing me,” Lenny cries.
“Oh please. You asked me to turn your ex-girlfriend’s initials into a ghost, and that’s what I’m doing. We’re almost done.”
Ed sits at the table to watch. I take the open chair next to him. He crumples up the paper in his hand and throws it on the table. “Did you both see that?”
Sasha frowns. “You’re leaving tomorrow anyway, right?”
He’s leaving?
