Between Hello and Goodbye

by Emma Scott

Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation. —Rumi

“You’re a mysterious person, Asher Mackey.” And you’re making it difficult to dislike you, Faith Benson.

“Shoo.” She waved a hand. “There are other damsels in distress waiting for you to save them. And I have your number if I need you again.” “I didn’t give you my number…” “911?” She arched a brow at me. “You walked right into that one, Asher Mackey.”

“Four days,” she said, “and then I’ll reevaluate my prospects. And I’m not going to sleep with you, firefighter.” “I don’t expect you to,” I said and couldn’t help but grin, “but let’s leave that door open.” “Closed,” she corrected with a sly smile. “But I’ll leave it unlocked.”

“It sounds stupid or cheesy, but I feel connected to something bigger when I sit with the ocean. Like I’m a part of something old and deep.” Asher grasped a handful of sand and let it sift through his fingers. “I felt untethered to anything real or permanent when I was a kid. Maybe this is me making up for it. But I’m grateful, and I think it’s the gratitude that makes me feel connected. I’m grateful to the ocean just for being here.”

“Are we in trouble, firefighter?” I understood her meaning. Because I could read her, and she could read me, and neither one of us wanted to do much else besides figure each other out. “Not yet,” I said quietly. “But we’re getting there.”

“But I can’t help myself around you. I know, rationally, we’re different people. There’s a literal ocean between us, and yet…” He reached across the table to take my hand. “I don’t see how this can go anywhere, but the last fucking thing I want to think about is saying goodbye.”

“Everything you do and everything you are, Asher, just makes me want you more.”

“Aloha means to hear what is not said, to see what cannot be seen, to know the unknowable.”

I nearly replied sweetly that I knew Asher very well from all the sex we had last night, but I must’ve matured in the last twelve days.

Each time, you happen to me all over again. —Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

“We’re stuck, aren’t we? Trapped somewhere between hello and goodbye.”

I’m trying to picture me without you but I can’t. —Fall Out Boy