The first thing I did when I made it back to my apartment was fling open the curtains. I had a view a lot of people would kill for. The rise and fall of New York’s skyline glittered in front of me as the sun bounced from window to window. At night it looked like a jeweler’s case, sparkling with lights. “The city that never slept.” Max had picked out that view for me. Now it seemed it was a view he’d never wanted.
I pressed my hands up to the cool glass and tried to focus as far in the distance as my eyes could, all the while envisioning him standing there, telling me how great the view was. I’d laughed at his exuberance, but now I wondered if it was real. Had he really stood in front of the view wishing, somewhere deep inside, it was a suburban spread of lush lawn? Or by that time was he completely dead to any hope he’d have an idyllic version of a picket fence life? Had he really lost hope or just decided that life wasn’t for him? Was it a specific event that had changed him, or just the passage of time?
What changed it for me?
I jumped a little when that question crossed through my brain. I didn’t know where it had come from and didn’t intend on dwelling on it. Turning around, I looked over my apartment in hopes of seeing something to occupy my time. Instead I heard the question, “Is this what you really wanted?”
I leaned entirely against the glass and tried to think of what to tell myself. It seemed the most logical thing to do was answer the questions and move on, but I didn’t exactly know what the answers were. Was this what I wanted? It wasn’t what I expected. I never thought I’d be a successful career woman living with a view that would bleed out the lifesavings of most people. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t relatively satisfied with it. Relatively?
I shook my head and pulled away from the window, intending to go in search of something to eat, but that first question nagged me. What changed it for me?
It nagged me because there was an answer. An event. It changed any dreams I’d had in high school into a need for a good job.
It was the moment when the foreman of the jobsite my dad was working on showed up at the door to tell us there had been an accident. That’s where life had become about surviving day to day.
I yanked a water bottle out of my fridge then went in search of something with at least a little nutritional value.
Someone knocked on the door and I instantly knew who it was. “It’s open, Georgia!” I called out and returned to my water bottle.
She opened the door with a little grunt. “I didn’t think I had to tell you that it’s not safe to leave your door unlocked in New York.”
“The killers know I’m too obnoxious to bother with,” I replied dryly and took a sip.
“Well, it’s good to see you’re still talking to me.”
“Wait until tomorrow when my senses come back. I’ll tell the doorman I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Georgia leaned up against the stubby half wall that was supposed to delineate the end of the living room and the beginning of the kitchen. “I’m sorry, okay. That didn’t go…as well as I would have hoped.”
“I’m not even going to acknowledge that statement.”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t either.”
I pulled another bottle of water out and tossed it to her. “Where’s Dave?”
“At his mother’s.” She unscrewed the lid, but just swished the contents around. “We were supposed to visit her. I told him I should check on you first.” She shrugged and finally took a sip. “She wouldn’t approve of what I’m wearing anyway. Supposedly purple doesn’t suit me.”
“Tell her Dave bought you the sweater.”
She gave me a slight smile. “He’d probably assume he really did and play right along.”
I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms. “You’d better get going then.”
“You really want to be alone?”
I nodded.
“Okay.” She hesitated, but finally pushed away from the wall. “Call me if you need to talk.”
I nodded and watched her walk to the door, but just before she opened I called out her name.
“Yeah.” She turned back, obviously attentive.
“Did you lose something?”
Georgia’s forehead wrinkled. “What?”
“As the years passed, was there something in particular, some dream, that you lost?”
I watched as she bit her lip, then a small smiled crossed her features. “Well, I still hope we’ll have children someday.”
And I knew she meant it. That was the difference. She still hoped. I couldn’t. It had been too long.