Page 56 of Paradigm

“Yeah, me too.”

Arlowe looked around, trying to think about what they could talk about now that she’d pretty much exhausted the topic of the office building and the lake’s origin story.

“You look nice, by the way,” Eline spoke. “I didn’t tell you that earlier.”

“Oh, thanks. You do, too, but I always think you look nice.”

“Even in the morning when I just wake up?”

“Haven’t seen that in a while, but from what I remember, I even like you when you wake up and have those little eye crusty things, messy hair all over the place, and terrible morning breath.”

Eline gave her a playful shove with her shoulder, which made Arlowe laugh.

“For what it’s worth, I like you like this, too.”

“Like what?”

“The broccoli-loving, blazer-wearing, older and wiser Arlowe,” Eline answered.

Arlowe stopped walking, which made Eline stop, too, and look at her in confusion, but Arlowe decided that now was the time. She’d been playing it safe, and she knew it. Maybe she should keep playing it safe, continuing this slow path they were on toward whatever might happen, but something in her told her that playing it safe hadn’t gotten her anywhere back then, when she’d left her heart behind, so if she wanted things to change, she should do something to try to change them.

“Do you know why I wear blazers a lot now?”

“No. Should I?”

“I don’t walk around with a purse – a little too femme for me. And I have my laptop bag, but I don’t always bring my computer places, obviously. Sometimes, I wear an actual jacket or coat, but I don’t always need one, and I don’t love putting it in the pockets of my jeans unless I have to because I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

“Lose what? Your phone?”

“Not my phone,” she said and reached into the interior pocket of her jacket to pull out the letter. “I pretty much always carry this with me. I have since I took that plane out of Amsterdam. I read it at least five times on the way home while I was crying and trying to hide it from the poor confused guy sitting next to me.” Arlowe let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t bring it places where I think it could get damaged or something. Like, one time, back when we were all maybe twenty-five, we decided to go to an amusement park – I didn’t bring it on any roller coasters. Day to day, though, I usually have it with me, and I read it sometimes. I have it memorized, but I still pull it out, unfold it very carefully because it’s delicate, and read it to myself. Sometimes, I think it still kind of smells like your old cucumber melon body spray stuff, but I’m not sure if it actually does, or if I’m imagining it, but I like it.”

“That’s my… letter?” Eline asked.

“My letter, technically, because you gave it to me, but yes. I wear a lot of jackets or blazers, as you call them now, because they have inner pockets. Safer that way. I can keep it close to me and always have a part of you with me when I can’t wear one of your shirts that I stole.”

“You kept the letter?”

“I couldn’t get rid of it. I had other things to remember you by, not just the shirts, but I don’t know… This felt important. Even though it made me cry every time I read it back then – a bit less and less over the years now – I didn’t know what else to do with it. I kept wanting it to say something else, I guess. Like, if I reread it again one day, the words might change and tell me that you wanted me to call you, talk to you every day, figure out how to stay together, or be friends even until we could. It never did, obviously, but I keep rereading it. I even scanned it. I have it on my phone now, so I guess, in that way, it is always with me.”

“Arlowe…” Eline said softly.

“Eline, I want this. I want you again. I know we said we would keep talking and getting to know one another, and we can keep doing that for as long as you want to, but I want you.” She took a deep breath. “I want to put this letter behind us because we’re moving forward. I want to take you out on a date where we don’t say that we’re hanging out, but where I can hold your hand and kiss you again. God, Eli Fay… I want to kiss you again.”

“I want that, too,” Eline replied.

“You do?”

“And I would like you to have a new nickname for me, since I’m not really Eli Fay anymore.”

“You’ll always be Eli Fay to me,” Arlowe said.

“I liked it when you called me something else better.”

“I remember,” she replied. “And I could call you that again if you agree to go on a date with me, but I can’t call you ‘babe’ if we’re just friends, Eline.”

“I want to move forward with you, too, Arlowe. I’ve missed you so much. Do you have any idea how many times I picked up the phone or went to search for you online and didn’t hit enter?”

“Same for me. And we can still talk about that stuff, but I want to talk about new stuff with you, too; like what we did tonight. I want us to have a real second first date.”