And then he’s gone.
Did that really just happen?
I look down at the paper in my hands and I’m nervous to even open it, wondering what homework assignment could possibly be worth the purchase of a plane ticket.
Fallon,
I lied. Kind of. I don’t have a lot of homework for you because I think you’re doing a good job at adulting. I mostly wanted to give you this letter because I wanted to thank you for showing up today. I forgot to thank you earlier. It sucks that you have to go a day without sleep, but it means a lot that you sacrificed that sleep to follow through with our arrangement. I’ll make it up to you next year, I promise. As for this year, there’s only one thing I want you to do.
Go visit your father.
I know, I know. He’s an asshole. But he’s the only father you have, and when you told me you haven’t spoken to him since last year, I couldn’t help but feel at fault for that. I feel guilty for the fight you guys got into because my butting in didn’t help matters. I should have stayed out of it, but had I stayed out of it, I wouldn’t have had the privilege of finding out what kind of panties you had on. So I guess I’m saying I don’t really regret butting in, but I do feel bad that maybe your relationship with your father wouldn’t be so strained had I just minded my own business. So for that, I think maybe you should give him another chance.
When I realized I forgot to ask you to do this one small thing, it was worth the $400 plane ticket I just had to buy. So don’t let me down, okay? Call him tomorrow. For me.
Next year, I want all the hours of November 9th I can get with you. Let’s meet an hour earlier and I’ll stay until midnight.
In the meantime, I hope you still get laughed at.
Ben
I read the note through again before folding it. I’m happy he’s no longer on the plane, because the smile on my face is embarrassing.
I can’t believe he just did that. And I can’t believe I’m going to suck it up and call my father tomorrow simply because Ben asked me to.
But even more than that, I’m in shock he spent that much money on a plane ticket just to give me this letter. That seems like more of a grand gesture than an inconsequential moment. And I love it just as much, if not more than the inconsequential things he does.
Maybe I don’t know the first thing about falling in love, because I’ve been telling myself I’m not falling for him yet. That it’s too soon.
But it’s not. What’s happening inside my heart right now is way too consequential to deny. I think I’ve been misjudging the whole concept of insta-love. Now if I can just figure out how we can finish these next few years with a happy ending.
Third November
9th
She “loved me” in quotations
She kissed me in bold
I TRIED TO KEEP HER in all caps
She left with an ellipsis . . .
—BENTON JAMES KESSLER
Fallon
I brought a notebook to the restaurant with me.
It’s a little embarrassing, but so much has happened this year, I started taking notes back in January. I’m also a neat freak, so Ben is lucky in that regard. He won’t have to do much research on me, because it’s all here. All four guys I went out with, all the auditions I went on, the fact that I’m speaking to my father again, the four callbacks I received, the one (very small) role I actually landed in an off-Broadway play. And how as excited as I was about it, I miss the community theater more than I expected to. Maybe because I enjoyed everyone wanting my advice. Now that I’ve got a small role in a slightly larger production, it feels different. Everyone is trying to climb their way to the top and they’ll crawl over anyone to get there. There are a lot of competitive people in this world, and I’ve discovered I’m not really one of them. But today I’m not going to dwell on what is or isn’t going right in my life, because today is all about Ben and me.
I have our entire day mapped out. After we eat breakfast, we’re doing typical touristy things. I’ve lived in New York for two years now and I’ve still never been to the Empire State Building. After lunch, though, is the part I’m the most excited about. I was walking past an art studio a couple of weeks ago and noticed a flyer for an event called “The life and death of Dylan Thomas. But mostly the death.” He’s brought up Dylan Thomas’s name a couple of times, so I know he likes his work. And the fact that the event takes place in that studio today of all days isn’t nearly as fascinating as what else I learned from the flyer.
Dylan Thomas died in New York City in 1953.
On November 9th.
What are the odds? I had to Google that information just to make sure it was right. It is. And I have no idea if Ben even knows that about Dylan Thomas. I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t so I can see the look on his face when I tell him.
“Are you Fallon?”
I look up at the waitress. She’s the same waitress who has refilled my Diet Pepsi twice. But this time she has an apologetic look about her . . . and a phone in her hands.
My heart sinks.
Please just let him be late. Please don’t let him be calling me because he isn’t coming today.
I nod. “Yeah.”
She pushes the phone at me. “He says it’s an emergency. You can bring the phone back to the counter when you’re done.”
I take it out of her hands and pull it to my chest with both hands. But then I quickly pull it away, because I’m afraid he’ll be able to hear my heart pounding on his end of the line. I look down at it and inhale a slow breath.
I can’t believe I’m reacting this way. I had no idea how much I’ve been anticipating today until the threat that it might be taken away from me. I slowly lift the phone to my ear. I close my eyes and mutter, “Hello?”
I immediately recognize the sigh that comes from the other end of the line. It’s crazy how I don’t even have to hear his voice to recognize him. That’s how embedded he is in my mind. Even the sound of his breath is familiar.
“Hey,” he says.
It’s not the kind of desperate greeting I wanted to hear. I need him to sound panicked—late. Like he’s just walking off the airplane and he’s terrified I’ll leave before he has a chance to get here. Instead, it’s a lazy hey. Like he’s sitting on a bed somewhere, relaxed. Not at all in a panic to get to me.
“Where are you?” I utter the dreaded question, knowing he’s about to give me an answer that’s almost three thousand miles from New York.