Once Forbidden, Twice Shy

by Carrie Aarons

That you will, without fail, cry on the first day. Always, at every single company. Whether it’s in your car at lunchtime or in the bathroom when you manage to slip away and feign a bathroom break. Fat, ugly, tears of confusion at not knowing how the new-to-you copier works, or waterworks of frustration when the boss sends you to find something or someone and you get lost.

Jack Merrick is all professional charm as he commands the tile floor, his cognac leather sneakers carrying strong legs encased in black denim. A white button-down, rolled up to the elbows, the top button loose, an easy swagger about him. Jack always did have that innate way of making people feel both extremely relaxed and flirtily flustered. His hair, the shade of a cinnamon-laced cappuccino, is longer than when I saw him last, the waves curling around the nape of his neck in a styled way. Like he uses gel. Damn, I guess the stylish capital of England is kind of getting to him. The chunky gold bracelet and leather watch around his right wrist are also evidence of that, but I see the hint of an earring in his left lobe and know that’s old hat.

I still know the dips of her body though, and in those black and white pants that hug her hips and the soft cream-colored sweater that molds to her breasts, my hands itch to touch her. The one and only time I got to taste heaven, I memorized her body, and traced every inch of it. Taylor Arnold is my nirvana.

And, of course, I know the exact hue of her strawberry-blond hair, so soft when I ran it through my fingers all those years ago. I know how she sighs instead of yawns when she’s tired and that she has the smallest wrists and fingers I’ve ever seen. Kit and I used to tease her about them until one day, we got a lighter stuck in the back seat of his parent’s car, and she was the only one who could get it out. I know the scar on her left knuckle came from a baked beans can on a camping trip I invited myself on and that her head fits perfectly under my chin when we dance. Because one time and one time only, when Kit was in the bathroom making out with his date, she danced with me at my senior homecoming.

“I earned this job, and I’m going to be damn great at it. I’m not going anywhere. No one needs to know how I know you. You’re my boss, I’ve worked with people I communicated with less. So, to you, I am no one. That should be a pretty easy rule for you to follow, considering you’re the one who created it.”

While getting out of New York was necessary, it’s not like I wasn’t excited to move to London. I’ve only been here once before, on a summer trip in high school that took us to a couple of European cities. I remember walking through Hyde Park and standing outside the gates at Buckingham Palace, thinking this was the most sophisticated and dazzling place I’d ever been to.

Then we’re at our desks, in our pod, just the team of ten that I’m managing on this new product Homeboty wants to roll out. We don’t have a timeline, but there is a lot of pressure to get this right. I’ve already been dialed into some calls and meetings with people much higher in the company than me, and they’re extremely anxious and excited to see what we come up with.

Sally proclaimed herself Hacker Barbie when we met this morning. Platinum blond hair, pink-framed glasses, and a top that definitely has the guys at this company checking her out. She fits the moniker. But I was told by her last project manager, since she’s been at Homeboty for about a year, that she’s a good coder … though the guy said it rather begrudgingly. Either he has a problem with her, or something happened on that team. I guess I’ll find out over time.

Except, if I’m being brutally honest? That isn’t the reason I haven’t found anyone to settle down with. All my high school and college friends are getting wifed up, putting rings on their girls’ fingers, and walking down the aisle … I can imagine all of it. I can imagine getting down on one knee, moving a couch up steep apartment stairs, and trying to plan our first dance song. I can imagine all those things with her.

I go over it again and again in my head. I have for six months. It still makes zero sense, but then again, a lot of the crime in New York is born of opportunity and not malicious intent. I happened to be pushing inside my apartment when he stormed me, my forehead smashing into the door swiftly. The next second, I was trying to shove him out and scream. But it was more of a yelp, and I didn’t know a single one of my neighbors despite living in the building for two years prior to that moment. A door must have sounded somewhere, and the person spooked, leaving before he could ever get inside.

“I don’t want to know that you thought about me. I don’t want the excuses. All I want is for you to leave me alone. We’re trapped in this impossible situation, and all I want is to do the job I came here for. I don’t want to mend fences, I don’t want to laugh about childhood memories or make Instagram slideshows of our travels as old pals in London. I don’t want a second chance at what we could have been, because if you haven’t forgotten then you have to remember what you said to me. How you promised me everything I’d ever wanted. Did you also not forget how you left without a word? How you claimed to love me and only me for years? Or how my texts and calls wouldn’t send because you got a new number once you left? One I couldn’t even ask my brother for because we lied about it all, to everyone. I never forgot those things, Jack. I didn’t forget the days and weeks and months I spent crying over you because of what you’d done. So do me a favor and forget. Pretend. Do whatever you have to so that I never have to talk about this, and very sparingly will I have to talk to you.” “Taylor …” That gorgeous face is sheer horror, lines of heartbreak bracketing his mouth.

Taylor laughs at that, and they smile at each other. Over the last week or so of working together, those two seem to have become rather chummy. The Taylor I know doesn’t open up easily and isn’t usually the type to giggle or fawn over girl-related things. She’s also a more nose-in-a-book, head-in-a-coding-problem type of person, and it’s half the reason I was fascinated with her our entire childhood.

Walking through the park, renting a bicycle part way through, and then sitting on a striped lawn chair to people watch makes me feel less alone. Odd, seeing as I’d done it alone, but there’s something about exploring my new city, where I felt much safer than I had in New York, that was freeing. The curiosity pulsing through me had me feeling more like the old me than I ever anticipated.

When I lived in Hoboken right out of college, takeout and fast food were my go-tos. I rarely grocery shopped, and it wasn’t like my parents even checked what I was charging to the credit card they gave me out of guilt. It was supposed to be for incidentals, but I said fuck them and charged most every expense to it. They never cared enough about me to bother scolding me over it, either, so I figured I earned that luxury.

“Yes, but some people have a harder time getting numb. I could give you pain meds, but this is relatively shallow. Enough that Tylenol will suffice. I’m not of the mind that everyone needs a prescription of oxycodone every time they walk in with a bump or bruise.” The doctor, an Indian man who looks to be in his forties, gives me a little smirk.

Stunning me into stupidity with that kiss was a good plan, I admit that. But I’m not about to give up or not follow through like she accused me of doing all those years ago. My fists were probably bruised by the time I gave up and went home, resorting to asking Kit for her international number and then bugging her with texts.

The scent drifts to my side of the table and I inhale. This Thai restaurant, five minutes from the London Bridge tube stop, is a beautiful place swathed in colors of orange and yellow, nestled down a side street. It’s quite romantic, and the moment we stepped inside, the hostess ushered us to a candlelit table and winked at Jack like he was taking his girlfriend out to a nice place.

So many moments over our lifetime that have been solely ours, that made us … us. And none of them amounted to anything, yet they amounted to everything.

Sure, there were many close calls, but the first time I truly had to take a step back and take my hands off her was this night at a party in high school. It was the summer before my senior year, when Taylor was going to be a sophomore, and there was a party at some kid’s lake house. Taylor had begged Kit to come along, and he finally relented with just two weeks of August left.

I’m two months into my life here in London, and the homesickness hit me like a ton of bricks this week. My life consists mostly of staying at the office for many hours of the day. While I enjoy the work Homeboty is challenging me with, it’s a small company. I have to do the work of a lot of people, even on a team of almost a dozen. There is so much expectation from the C-suite about our new product that I can see it’s getting to Jack.

I don’t know how to cope with the curveball life has thrown me. It has taken me years to truly get over him, and even then, there was no real moving on. It was just me lying to myself. But now that we’ve been thrown together and I have to see him almost every single day? My entire universe feels flipped. Revealing too much about why I left New York was such a mistake, and it has me spiraling. Then there is the Seb of it all and worrying myself sick about whether or not he’ll tell other people.

Twenty people who are all part of the same wedding party and trying to ask questions of the bride while she tries to dole out tasks and schedules … that’s my personal hell. Not only do half these people not know how to mute, but nothing is getting accomplished. And from half a world away, with a five-hour time difference, I’m both tired and irritated at how long this has stretched on.

I asked Sally to accompany me to the nightclub with Penny and her friends. Not that I don’t trust Penny, and not that Sally and I have become close friends, but it makes me feel safer to have someone from work here. Someone who I know in everyday life, who I’ve seen interact with people. Sally has a good character, from what I could tell, and we’ve had a few good lunches. She seems like the type of person who knows this scene a little better than I do, and if I agreed to go, I needed moral support.

It’s past midnight at this point, closer to one, and I had been nodding off in front of Planet Earth when the phone rang. But the minute I saw her name, my heart was in my throat, and I knew something was wrong. With the way we left things after my measurements appointment, I expected an icy reception at work for the foreseeable future, and no contact outside of the building.

No shirt, just full abs on display as the waistband of the pants sinks dangerously low. His hair is disheveled, waves and curls every which way. If mine looked like that, I’d resemble an electrocuted clown, but of course, my brother’s best friend looks dashing and effortlessly sexy.

My heart stutters to a stop. Did she just admit she’s in love with me? It’s not like I didn’t suspect it because I’ve felt the same for as long as I can remember, but Taylor has never said that out loud.

My eyes fly open, and I fight for them to stay that way because my climax threaten to steal all five senses. But I want to watch Jack. I need to see the tic of his jaw and the wild intensity of his dilated pupils as he makes me come.

It’s the first time I’ve spoken to either of my parents in nearly four months. They will send a text here and there, probably to check that I’m still alive, but aside from that, we don’t communicate. There was no real fight, no falling out, and I’ve never explained my upset over how disinterested they seem in having a child or me being alive. But once I left for Sweden, what little relationship we did have seemed to completely vanish.

Jack tells me he loves me nearly every day, and obviously, I love him too, but I haven’t been able to say it yet. Right now, we’re in the honeymoon stage where we don’t fight over anything but who gets the last bite of ice cream and which one of us should pay for dinner. Okay, I’m always fighting him to let me pay and haven’t been successful yet, but still.

Our first prototype was delivered to our team yesterday, and we spent this morning picking the entire thing apart. Its functions, designs, and maneuverability were all examined and cataloged, and everyone had some great suggestions and starting points for improving it. We all realized we have a long way to go, but some solid strategies to deploy, and everyone feels good. I told them all to take a longer lunch and come back refreshed, since the meeting this morning ran for hours.

In the office, in front of our coworkers, she acts like a nun. A perfect, giggling angel who couldn’t possibly be threatening to out my relationship and cost both Jack and me our jobs. That anticipation of the worst has me so on edge, and I can tell Jack doesn’t know how to play it either.

Walking into my boyfriend’s apartment using the key he gave me feels especially adult. Of course, I’m in my mid-twenties, have lived out of the house for many years, and hold down my own bills and job. But there is something about carrying on a real relationship that makes me feel like a grown-up.

“He’s right, I dated this girl last year who took forty minutes to slap some stuff on her face. And she was gorgeous already!” Marcus, one of our high school buddies, chimes in as he brings me over another IPA.

Ireland’s Cliffs of Moher were on my bucket list, but I didn’t realize just how much I wanted to see them until I got here. Before we left for the bridal party weekends, Jack had the great idea of booking our return flights straight to Dublin so we could have a little celebration of our own. We’d already taken the time off work, what was three more days, and it let us sneak in a trip together under the radar. Throw in that it’s his birthday, and I knew we had to make it happen.

“No, this is bloody everything. I’m obsessed. So it’s all been a big secret? This taboo ‘she’s my bestie’s sister’ kind of thing? Gah, make a movie out of it, I swear I’d watch it all the time.” Penny claps her hands together where she sits across the table from us.

Being back in New Jersey is a surreal experience since I haven’t been here in over four years. I’ve spent every holiday in Sweden or London, considering my parents don’t give a shit if I come home to relive our nonexistent traditions. Most of the time, they don’t even call on Christmas or Thanksgiving.

Someday, I’m going to take away an Arnold and add Merrick to her name.

“The only thing I see is you. In a room full of hundreds of people, I can’t look anywhere else. You’re my sun. You’re gravity. There is nothing else in my orbit,” he chokes out, pulling my dress straps down as he seduces me right up against the back of the door.

We make our way to the front desk, checking out of our separate rooms, and then I help her put her luggage in her car. As we walk back into the hotel where Kit and Winnie had their reception, I grab her hand out of spontaneity. Sure, someone could see us, but I no longer care.

I detailed my attack in detached sentences to my parents and brother when they brought me back to my childhood home, telling them the story from start to finish. My mother hasn’t stopped weeping since, even though she’s trying to hide it from me. But I hear her when she thinks she’s in private, silently sobbing into a dish towel as I stand on the other side of the kitchen door.

Now I touch down in my adopted hometown with nothing but worry and doubts. The last five days have been one of reflection, healing, and lots of talking with my family. About the attack, about Jack, about how I need to stop bottling everything up and instead let the people in my life help me through things. I left New Jersey with a renewed sense of spirit and a promise to communicate more.

We’ve been back in London for nearly three weeks since the wedding, and each day is spent in the office while each night is spent with each other. I’ve essentially moved into her place, my flat just a storage unit at this point, and we’re so ridiculous, goofily happy I know that our job situation has to change. Now.

“I’m not dead guys. I’m not even leaving London for the time being. It just wasn’t a fit, but that doesn’t mean you guys weren’t a fit. You’re some of the best people I’ve ever worked with.” Minus one very vengeful blonde.

“Sometimes confronting things head-on isn’t the way to heal. I’ve learned, in my short but challenging year, that sometimes the best peace you can give yourself is just dropping whatever it is and just moving on, knowing that your truth is your truth and maybe not everyone needs to hear it. There is a contentment in ‘quitting,’ in not having your side heard, if it means you get to keep your safe space. Sometimes, the drama and uprooting and chaos that drawing attention to a problem creates isn’t worth any settlement you might receive from it. In the context of our lives, Sally means nothing. She will be found out, but we get to keep our love, what we enjoy so much about our life together, and not blast it apart just to make sure she gets punished. In other words, sometimes it’s better to lie down, quietly let it go, and to give yourself the win in your own head. As they say, they can’t win if you’re not playing.”

His interview for the space program went so well that they hired him three weeks after he left Homeboty. On the month mark of his resignation, he left London for DC with a promise that nothing between us would change. And it didn’t, aside from the tears and distance. I hated being across the world from him in every single way and knew by the fourth day that I couldn’t do it for much longer.

The damn Oreo pack won’t open, and I’m trying to make as little noise as possible so I don’t tip her off. Our beagle puppy, Milo, is not making that easy as he’s sitting at my feet nearly howling for a cookie. We adopted him a month ago, and even though he pees on my shoes and wakes us up at five a.m., he’s so fucking cute I can never be mad at him.