I’M DEFRIENDING YOU—RIGHT NOW
Mercifully, five o’clock was way too early for Jackson to have been home from work, so Cady let herself into the apartment and found it empty. Just three days since their fight and already the place had ceased to feel like home. She quickly located the jacket just where she thought it was—it wasn’t in such bad shape, though she wished she had actually hung it up instead of just tossing it on the floor of the closet. But she obviously hadn’t been her best self that night, what could you do?
She Metroed to Preamble, not bothering to tell Parker she was coming. She kind of hoped it would be busy enough there that she could just leave it with one of the bartenders and then disappear. She just wasn’t feeling particularly social.
The place was in full swing, so many Hill staffers and even a congressman or two swigging beers and watching the TVs oscillate between news and sports. Still, somehow, amid the happy hour ruckus, he seemed to spot her the minute she walked in.
“One Sour Suffragette coming up—unless this is the end of another pub crawl for you,” he called out.
She tried to smile, embarrassed. “Nope, not drinking tonight,” she said, but it came out a little too sour indeed, so she added, “There’s a first time for everything, right?”
“Just don’t make a habit of that, last thing a bartender wants to hear.” He smiled as she approached the crowded bar.
“Thank you for this,” she said, handing over the jacket. “I think it probably looks better on you, so I’m returning it.”
“Nah, I’d have to disagree. You’re welcome to borrow it anytime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She wanted to laugh, but feeling that her spirit was dulled, looked away a moment, noticing the spray-painted mantra on the far wall as she did. “Oh, almost forgot. Thank you, also. For the poster. You’ll be happy to know it’s hanging proudly in my office.” She said it all just a little too flat.
“Anytime,” he said, squinting at her like a cop who wasn’t buying a suspect’s alibi. “Although, it looks like you’re still not living up to Thomas Jefferson’s dream.”
“Huh?”
“Thomas Jefferson? Pursuit of happiness?” he said, a little impatient.
“Exactly, got it, that’s—” she started to defend herself.
“What’s goin’ on here?” he cut her off, waving his hand. “Your whole…energy…or something…is off.”
“Oh, yeah, no, I’m about to pursue my happiness, any minute now. I just had other stuff to do today. You know, emails to return, groceries to buy, exes to evade—it was not easy going back to get that.” She gestured to his formalwear.
“I appreciate your sacrifice.” He smiled kindly. “So, no drinking, got it. You know, don’t tell the others but we actually do serve nonalcoholic beverages too.”
“Thanks, I think I’m good today. Next time.” She waved, turning to walk away.
Jay had been kind enough to give her a key, so at least she could get in to his place if he was still at work. She thought she might even walk for a little while. But in a few steps Parker was by her side again.
“You know what?” He stopped her.
“Whoa,” she said, startled. “Hi. Again.”
“I don’t think you’re good today.”
“Well, that’s not very nice to say.”
“As a bartender, who was also a psych major, I think you have what we in the business call…the blues.”
“That’s a scientific, medical term?” she asked, still walking to the door.
“And I don’t know where you’re going right now,” he said, following her. “But it’s probably not as fun as this place.”
“For a walk. And then Metro.”
“Yeah, that sounds terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you at least go do something, anything, better than that if you’re determined to not be here?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can think of a thousand places you could go to get a jump on pursuing your happiness.”
“I told you, I’m going to put that off just, like, one more day.”
He held the door open for her. “Okay, how about if I put you in a cab and send you somewhere, and then you can get to your pressing matters of walking and taking public transportation?” His arm flew up to hail a cab and somehow, instantly, one arrived.
“It never works like that for me,” she said to herself.
He opened the door and closed it behind her. “Hey there,” he said to the driver. “She’s going to…” He paused to think. “Natural History Museum.”
“I don’t like dinosaurs,” she called from the back seat, like a grumpy child.
“The dinosaurs are under construction, you’re safe. No, go to the second floor, butterflies.” He paused for a moment, just as the driver nodded and hit the gas. “Wait!” he yelled. The cab stopped, and Parker yanked the door open. “Move over.”
“You’re very bossy today.”
“I don’t trust you. I’m coming with you.”
* * *
The ticket area for the butterfly pavilion was empty, the cashier pointing to a sign to explain why: they had just missed the last viewing of the day. Cady didn’t mind so much, she felt like she wasn’t the best company right now anyway. She still couldn’t believe Parker had come along.
“Look, Chris,” he said, reading the cashier’s name tag. “I didn’t want to have to bring this up, but she just got dumped.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“And, metaphorically, she needs to remember how to fly again, you get me?”
Cady gave Parker a look, not appreciating his commentary.
“I was a poetry minor. Very minor, I wasn’t very good,” he explained.
Still, the cashier agreed to speak to the butterfly wrangler and in no time they were standing in the vestibule, just waiting to be let in for their own private session.
“Trust me, it’s impossible to be pissed off in here,” Parker said.
The wrangler arrived, and they stepped into the humid room lined with so many plants and trees. A puff of water-misted air pumped in, and the butterflies that had been lounging on the leaves and flowers, hidden among the vegetation, spread their wings and took flight, swirling around the two of them. Suddenly the winged creatures were everywhere. Cady watched them fly and laughed as they touched down on her bare arms and then flitted away again.
“Don’t move,” Parker said, taking out his phone and snapping a picture: a monarch had landed in her hair, perched there like a beautiful barrette.
* * *
“You know what’s almost worse than the emotional shit after the breakup?” he asked, taking a bite of his ice-cream cone. Parker had insisted they patronize the ice-cream truck outside the museum. “The practical shit. Like, ‘Oh, thanks, now I have to find a new place to live.’ ‘Great, what do I do with all my stuff now?’ Who has time for all that? We’re busy people with busy lives!”
He didn’t say any of it bitter or angry, but in a funny way that made her smile.
“Ugh,” she groaned dramatically, licking her ice cream. “I forgot that I even have stuff. Like real baggage not just the emotional kind.”
The sun had set and the sky was just beginning to dim. The Mall still hummed with the activity of early August: joggers, tourists trickling out of museums, staffers on recess taking the scenic route home.
“I know, it sucks,” he said. “But I’ve got a great storage unit in Alexandria. Supercheap. And there’s plenty of room if you want.” He shrugged.
“Eek, I feel like that’s maybe where I went wrong,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe my stuff shouldn’t cohabitate with anybody’s stuff anytime soon. What if your stuff got sick of my stuff and just kicked it out one day with no warning?”
“My stuff is very friendly. I don’t think that would happen. But I respect your decision, very levelheaded.”
They cut across one of the paths, walking the width of the Mall to the opposite side, and stopped before the carousel. Patriotic music filled the air. A few kids were still riding before it closed for the night.
“We’re going on that,” Parker said, tossing the rest of his ice cream in the trash and taking hers to do the same.
“Hey!” she said, but he was already buying tickets.
“We have to get the sea dragon,” he explained, bolting as soon as the gate opened and yanking her hand. They ran halfway around the carousel until he finally stopped at a turquoise serpent.
“I saw you glare at that child.” She laughed.
“Gotta do what you gotta do,” he said, gesturing for her to take a seat on the sea dragon as he climbed onto a nearby horse.
“It is pretty cool,” she admitted, petting the dragon, then leaping up to ride sidesaddle. An attempt to be ladylike since she hadn’t expected to end up here when she put on her dress and heels that morning. Maybe she should have been more embarrassed, but being there, it was just so ridiculous. She kind of loved it. Besides, they weren’t the only adults unaccompanied by minors.
The music cranked up, and they set off with a boom. She laughed, almost kicked off her serpent. “I’ve got a feisty one,” she said.
They began spinning, wind whooshing through her hair as the sea dragon glided. She watched the Mall pass by, surprised to find her mind was finally at peace.
* * *
She had expected to head back to Jay’s after the carousel, but Parker said there was one more place to see and hailed another cab. “It’s near your apartment anyway,” he said.
Curious, she decided not to tell him she was staying in an entirely different neighborhood.
The cab dropped them off where 22nd Street dead-ended. In the dim streetlight, nestled in among trees, mysterious steps led to a fountain flanked by two curved staircases. It felt like a secret hideaway, tucked in this nook so close to the bustling center of Dupont Circle.
“I give you, DC’s version of the Spanish Steps.” He gestured. “You’re welcome.”
She followed him up to the fountain, where the statue of a lion stared back at them.
“I never knew this was here, and I’ve been living just a few blocks away all this time,” she said, taking it in.
“I know. That’s what’s so great about it,” he said. “I used to live near here and found it by accident one day, and I wondered why no one had told me about it.”
“Probably because everyone who knows it’s here wants to think they’re the only ones who know,” she said.
“Exactly. But, you know, secrets don’t keep that long in this town,” he said.
They climbed the staircase to the landing above the fountain, which connected to S Street, and sat on a ledge overlooking the lion’s head.
“So anyway, my point in all of this is, there are plenty of distractions here, no matter how messed up you feel,” he said, staring out into the darkness.
“Point taken,” she said.
“Have you done the purge yet?”
“The what?”
“It’s pretty key, for your well-being. Gimme your phone.” He held out his hand, shook his fingers. “C’mon, you’ll thank me.”
She dug her phone from her bag and relinquished it.
“Let’s delete him,” he said, all business.
“Seriously?”
“Delete him and block him or just delete him?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You know what? We’ll go easy for now, just delete.” Parker fiddled with her phone. “I’m all over this. I just did this stuff. I’m like the Geek Squad for Breakups now.”
“Thanks?” she said, unsure.
“I promise, you’ll be glad. Then you won’t be tempted to call, and let’s face it, no good can come of us calling these people. He’s not blocked though, so you know, nothing that can’t be undone.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I think it’s done,” she said quietly. “I mean, I know it’s done. I guess.”
“It won’t always feel this bad,” he said, tossing pebbles into the fountain below.
She watched them fall. Several long seconds passed, so many that she forgot for a moment that Parker was there beside her. Her mind was all over the place, sorting through and trying to make sense of things, a jumble of conflicting impulses. Finally, she was drawn back to the present, her voice lower now, more cautious, as she spoke.
“I find you kind of annoying,” she said slowly, just stealing a quick glance at him. She liked how his lips seemed to curve into the slightest smile, even at rest.
“Possibly not the first time I’ve heard that. But what’s your reason?” he said.
“Why are you handling your breakup so much better than I am mine?” She had vowed to move on, fast, not be one of these sad sacks with plenty of other good stuff in their lives but with their self-worth tied up in a guy.
“Me? Are you kidding?” His tone just a shade darker than it had been. “I am a complete disaster.”
“You don’t seem that way,” she said, almost accusatory. “Aside from the broken arm a while back, you seem all healed, overall. I’m sure you’re meeting babes at your bar every night, no problem, living the good life.”
“Well, I appreciate that you have this warped idea of me. I probably should just agree with you, yes, that is exactly how it is to be me. It’s awesome. But seriously, I’m a mess. Still. And just because I’m a nice guy, I’ll tell you all about what a fuckup I really am so you can feel better about yourself.”
“Oh, good,” she said, cheerful.
“Yeah, settle in, there’s a lot. So. Despite all of the great press, all orchestrated by you, I might add—thank you—”
“Anytime.”
“—we are still barely breaking even, which freaks me out. I heard that Melanie moved in with the guy she left me for. Which I totally don’t care about because I’m done with her, but she’s allegedly fully moved on. And has a new place. Meanwhile, I am living in my office at the bar. No joke. Sleeping on the sofa.”
“It is comfy,” she argued.
“Yeah, well, not every night.”
“And some congressmen do that, stay in their offices.”
He continued. “I can’t get those guys from my old office to stop coming in and harassing me.”
“This isn’t sounding so horrific.”
“My arm is still messed up and my elbow stiffens up—” he held his arm out, studying it “—and, like, won’t bend when it’s about to rain, which is practically every fucking day in the summer in Washington.”
“Okay, true. That kind of sucks.”
“And even though it’s gross, I saved my cast after they sawed it off, and I have it in my desk because it was signed by the girl I’m kind of, maybe, completely in love with even though she probably thinks I’m just a friend, with the exception of when she’s drunk, which doesn’t really count. And it’s probably not smart to be in love again yet. But—”
Cady felt the blood in her veins run green, envious. “Wait.” She looked at him, disappointed. “I thought I was the only one who signed that cast.”
He was quiet for a moment, throwing endless pebbles into that fountain. “You are.” He sighed.
Her heart beat too loudly in her chest, and for a second she remained frozen.
But then she felt a gravitational pull, a rip current. It swept her, and she didn’t want to fight. She leaned into him.
“Jeez, it doesn’t help when you look at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?” she asked, unsure, taking a breath.
“Like that. With your eyes.”
“How else am I supposed to look at you?”
“No, with your eyes all deep and whatever. That messes me up. It’s not a nice thing to do.” He looked away again.
“Really.” She said it as a statement.
“Yeah, really,” he said, meeting her eyes again, focused.
“Then you’re definitely not going to like this.” She inched toward him, her lips finally landing on his and finding them willing participants this time. His hand gripped the back of her head, pulling her closer, while his other arm held her firmly against his body. Her arms wound their way around his neck.
“I don’t know why you think I’m your friend.” Her words came out just breathless enough, her eyes locked on his. “I don’t want to be your friend,” she said, just now fully understanding it herself.
“Say that again,” he whispered into her lips before kissing her again.
She breathed him in. “I am defriending you. Right. Now.”
“Me too,” he said softly into her ear, tightening his arms around her, kissing her again, lowering her along the ledge as he did.
Each breath he took she could feel in her own chest. She felt a good kind of dizzy, like that other night, but not from any drug this time. His hold on her the only thing keeping her from sliding, it was a considerable feat they hadn’t fallen down into the fountain by now. But she couldn’t think of that. Only physical; only him.
She thought the siren was in her head at first, some kind of internal flare telling her to take another breath. But then he pulled away too, and they both jumped, startled. They turned back as a police car raced down S Street, followed by another, to a destination unknown.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her as they took off running, not stopping until they reached her block.
“I don’t know why I ran.” He laughed as they slowed their pace to a stroll.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said, their fingers still entwined.
“It’s not like they were looking for us, right?” he joked. “Worst thing I’ve done in months was bounce a check, and it was just the one and there were extenuating circumstances.”
“Hardly the stuff of police car chases,” she said. She was still drunk on him, not paying attention as he stopped in front of her building.
“I have to tell you—I wanted to kiss you the night you showed up at the bar, but I’ve always had this policy about not kissing girls who won’t be able to remember it.”
“That’s a good policy,” she said. “I have to tell you, I’m kind of not living here right now.”
* * *
By the time they finally arrived at Jay’s U Street apartment, she was feeling as she had before the sirens; she didn’t want Parker to leave.
“I hate that I kind of don’t really live here,” she said into the golden flecks of his eyes.
He answered her with another kiss and then, “I hate that you kind of don’t really live here too.”
“You should—” She was about to say come up. He should definitely come up. Now. Maybe Jay was out. Or else she could just kick Jay out. Of his own apartment. Or something. She would figure it out during the elevator ride between here and there.
But Parker ruffled his hair, in that shy way of his, and said, “I should probably quit while I’m ahead—I mean, I’m ahead, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “You’re definitely ahead.”
“For the record, I’ll regret this as soon as I get back to the bar,” he said, like it was a promise. “But as mistakes go, there are worse, right?”
Mischievous smile, hands in his pockets, he turned and walked away.